Trek 2 (Cont'd)
Admittedly,
I've been avoiding this post. I haven't been sure how to write it. I'm not even
sure now. I've started it over several times, but it hasn't come out right. It
felt like I was trying to cover it up, gloss it over, water it down. I'm not
going to do that now. I was depressed. I was feeling down. I had too many
doubts, and I no longer felt sure of myself. The truth is, I didn't know if I
was doing the right thing. It's been a while since I started sweating while
writing, so I guess this is the right way to go about it. I'm going to be completely
honest.
Day 6 (Cont'd)
After
wrapping up the previous post at the McDonald's, having sat there for far too
long, I was ready to set off. I barely made it across the street before noticing
the DragonWagon was dragging a little on one side, pulling slightly unevenly. I
looked back to see a completely deflated tire on one side. Well, they did last
longer than the smaller original ones did. I looked at it closer after pulling
over and noticed the tread seemed fine, just the inner tube had deflated. I
tried pumping up the tire, but it stayed deflated, wouldn't keep any air
pressure. The inner tube must have been punctured. Okay, time to change the
tire then, but I'd never changed a bicycle tire before. Nothing like a good old
trial-by-fire. I had to somehow suspend the wagon in the air so the tire could
spin freely, so I ended up using my foldable shovel. Lifting awkwardly with one
hand, and with the other trying to balance the load on top of the shovel, I
somehow managed to set the wagon up for repair. I used my the screw driver from
my multitool to pry off one side of the tread from the rim, and then removed
the tube from inside. I found it had a little hole on what looked like the seam
where the two ends met. It didn't look like anything had perforated it, so it
may have just been stress from the load that burst it open. I checked the
inside of the tread to be sure there wasn't anything where the hole was, ready
to damage the next tube. Seemed fine. I set in one of my two back up tubes,
then struggled to get the tread back on. As I was attempting to lock in the
last section of tread, which of course turned out to be the hardest part, a guy
on a bicycle asked me if I was okay. I looked up to see him riding a sleek
white bicycle. I told him I was fine, just working on replacing a flat, and
asked if he knew where a local bike shop might be. He said he didn't know, but
that he had some spare change if I needed it. I respectfully declined his
offer, but thanked him for it. I finished reapplying the tread, inflated the
wheel, then awkwardly lifted the wagon to remove the shovel from underneath.
All was well again.
I reached Scott's house a few hours after
fixing the flat. I got there while he and his wife were putting up their Christmas
lights. They had a beautiful home, I'd been there once before. It used to be an
old nurse's dormitory to an old hospital down the road, which they'd been refurbishing
for some time. When I last visited they had most of their doors down, and were
in the process of sanding and staining them. They had come a long way since
then. All of their doors were up, the place was fully furnished, and it seemed they
had only the kitchen left to do. Their home was pristine, the furniture
flawless, and I was not. I carried on me a week's worth of the outdoors. I
carried a stench of rain, sweat, and dirt. I was filthy, and couldn't have felt
more out of place. They welcomed me warmly into their home, but I felt like an
intruder. They couldn't have been better hosts, and I did my best to be a good
guest, but I absolutely felt like I didn't belong. They invited me into the
living room, on a gorgeous couch made of a material I could not recognize, much
less name. I considered sitting on the floor instead of the really nice couch,
but decided against it, thinking doing so might make them uncomfortable. I tried to sit on as little of the couch as
possible. After a conversation of what I was doing, and what they'd been up to,
I went to take a shower.
After
what seemed like an eternity in the hot water, I grabbed my bag of clothes out
of my rucksack, and found to my complete horror that all my clean clothes were
soaked. They had been soaked from the rain a few days back, and even though I
had hung them out to dry, they had somehow become completely wet again. Whether
there was still dampness in the rucksack, or something else had been the cause,
there they sat, drenched. I was absolutely embarrassed. I may have stood in
that bathroom too long, willing my clothes to not be wet. I hung up some of the
clothes around the bathroom, hoping they would dry by morning, and was forced
to get back into the clothes I'd been wearing. Correction, I was not forced, I
forced myself. I could have, at any moment, come to them to explain the
situation and ask to use their washer and dryer. I should have done that. At
one point they even offered it, but for some reason I had said, "No
thanks, I'll be okay." This was a stupid response. The correct response
would have been, "Thanks, that'd be great." Was it pride? Was it the
pure embarrassment of the situation? It may have been that they had been so
kind to offer me a place to stay, that I felt I was asking too much of them
already. Maybe it was a combination of all of these. I have put myself in these
situations throughout my life, and have yet to learn from them.
This
began a spiraling series of doubts in regard to my little
"adventure." This is when I really began thinking about what the hell
I was doing with myself, and how I could have brought this upon my friends. The
voice in my head was ringing loudly and constant, "You see? This is why
you can't do this. You don't belong in a nice place like this, with wonderful
people like them. They have worked so hard on this house and here you are
bringing in the filth. If they'd known this is how you would've shown up, they
probably would never have offered to let you in. You are disgusting, and you
need to leave this place. Leave these great people alone. You should have
checked your bag before getting close, you should have made sure your stuff was
clean, you should not even have come here. You should have never left on this
ridiculous journey. This is all for naught. How could you do this to them?
They've been so kind and all you're doing is intruding on their home, dirtying
up the place. You don't belong here." I walked out of the room they were
letting me stay in for the night, in the same clothes I'd come in with. I did
my best not to let them see how out of place I felt, but I have a feeling they
sensed something was wrong.
We went
out to dinner with a couple of their friends, but I had already eaten just
before arriving to their house, so I didn't order anything. Instead, I ordered
a water since I felt parched from my walk, but I think they took this as me not
having enough money to pay for what I actually wanted. They took it upon
themselves to order extra appetizers which they vehemently shared with me, and
took to ordering pitchers of beer for the second half of the night, and pouring
me a cup along with theirs. I was humbled, and did my best to be as thankful as
I could. The voice in my head, however, didn't let up on the situation.
All in
all, it was a great night. We had fun, we talked, we laughed, and there was
even some karaoke involved. I did my best to shake the negative feelings, and
just enjoy the night, enjoy my time with friends.
Day 7
My body
woke me up at 6 in the morning, as I'd been used to on the road. I listened for
anyone else who might be up, but heard nothing. I thought I might as well sleep
for another hour or so, and get up when I hear someone get up. I woke up again
at 7:30, but still heard nothing. We'd been out pretty late the previous night,
and maybe they weren't early risers on a weekend. I decided I should get up in
another hour, maybe start drawing in the living room. The next time I woke up,
though, it was well past 11, and I heard them both in the kitchen. Shit. I
hadn't meant to sleep that long at all. I wondered how long they'd been up. I
felt like an ass for sleeping in like that. I went out to find them both in the
kitchen, drinking their coffee. They cooked a delicious breakfast that morning,
after which I asked to see Scott's recording studio. He's in a couple of bands,
and records for some other musicians as well. After admiring his facilities, I
decided I needed to head out. I hadn't made it clear how long I'd be staying,
so I think it took them by surprise that I was leaving after only one night.
Maybe it was relief. They had been nothing but gracious and kind hosts, but I
didn't feel like I was being the best guest. I decided it was better if I went.
I couldn't shake the negative feelings I'd been feeling the night before. That
afternoon, I packed my wet bag of clothes back into my rucksack, loaded up the
DragonWagon, and set out.
As I
walked down the road, the voice in my head echoed with every step, "Dirty.
Gross. Unwelcome. Intrusion. Burden. Quit. Stop." I stopped at a Subway
for a sandwich, and ate in sitting on the grass behind the building. I felt
more at home sitting outside, sitting on the ground. It felt right. After
finishing my dinner, I saw the sun was close to setting, so it was time to find
a place to camp. I shouldn't have left their house so late in the afternoon, it
had given me little time to find a decent place. I found some trees behind a
bank, but it was too visible, and too close to the road. I kept going, and as I
was coming to a construction zone with a dirt driveway, a car pulled over right
in front of me. It was Scott. He rolled down his passenger window, and was
holding out what looked like a long stick with something yellow attached to the
end of it. It was my walking stick. I hadn't realized I'd forgotten it at their
place He drove out to get it to me, and had attached a yellow bag of M&M's
to the end. He said he'd driven quite a distance down looking for me, and had
turned around when he decided there was no way I could've walked so far in so
little time. He must have driven past when I was eating behind the Subway. I
thanked him profusely, and apologized for being such an idiot. Like I said,
they were really kind.
After
Scott drove off, and I walked past the construction site, the next lot I came
to was overgrown, seemingly abandoned, with an old "for sale" sign
out front. It had tire tracks indented down the center of the tall grassy area,
which led to a thick formation of trees. I decided to go in. Halfway down the
path I found a less treaded upon track which cut to the left, so I turned into
it. It lead me far from the road, to a section littered with old trash that
seemed like it had been there for years, untouched. I set up my camp among the
trees where the litter hadn't reached. I didn't go to sleep right away, though.
My mind was racing that night. The doubts were building. The voice was loud.
The depression was setting in.
"Why
are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? You are just a burden on
people. You have nothing to gain from this. Stop being childish. Go back to
what you were doing before, and stop all of this nonsense. He had to drive out
to get you your stupid stick. He was kind enough to give you candy with it. Do
you understand what an inconvenience it must have been for him when he couldn't
even find you, and ended up driving who knows how far down the road? There you
were eating your stupid sandwich while he was looking for you, because you
couldn't remember to pack your stupid stick. You need to quit all of this, and stop
inconveniencing people."
I did not
sleep well that night.
Day 8
I didn't
want to get up. I didn't want to do anything. The doubts were heavy. As the sun
rose over the trees, my tent start heating up, but still I didn't move. The
only thing that made me finally get up was the desperate need for the bathroom.
I decided to get dressed, and head out to the road to find Burger King or
McDonalds. I didn't feel like breaking down the camp, didn't want to pull the
wagon, and didn't feel like traveling, so I thought I'd stay another night. The
location was well enough into the woods that no one would happen by my tent, so
off I went, leaving the tent up with the tarp over it. I went out to the road,
and found a Taco Bell nearby. I used their bathroom and their wifi. I thought
the best thing to do right now was to wash my wet clothes, and make sure it was
all dry before doing anything else. I looked up the nearest laundry place, and
found one just a couple of blocks away. I went back to the encampment, and
gathered up every piece of clothing I had. It was time to wash.
I got to
the coin laundry, and picked out a washer closest to the bench I was going to
sit at. A small Asian looking lady asked me if she could use that machine,
since it was right next to the other one she was already filling. I didn't mind
letting her have it, so I obliged. "You'd be better off with that smaller
washers down there, anyways. Your load isn't that big." I thanked her for
her advice, and did just that. It was still within view of the bench, so it
worked just fine for me. I loaded it up, and sat down to draw while I waited.
The old lady sat next to me, and we got to chatting while I drew. Her name was
Jackie, and she was living with her mother since her husband had passed away.
She had three kids, whom I later found out she had adopted. She was putting one
of them through college, raising another, while the third was in the Marines. She
mentioned she only used these washers to clean her mother's sheets, since
they're so large. When we got to talking about my situation, I think my doubts
and depression was coming through clearly. She obviously felt sorry for me, and
seemed to think my situation was more desperate than it was. She seemed very
concerned for my well being. "Aren't you scared?" This question hit
me hard on this day. Telling her I wasn't scared was more to convince myself
than her. I think she meant to ask "Aren't you scared that you'll get hurt
or worse?" but on this day I took it as "Aren't you scared that
you're making the wrong decisions? Aren't you scared that you've completely
fucked up?" As we chatted a while longer, she glanced over at my washer
and informed me I hadn't used enough detergent, and insisted on giving me a few
of her dryer sheets to help with dryer. She even told me if she wasn't so busy,
she would've driven me to Ocala. She was a very nice woman, and very kind. I
wished her the best with her family as I left the coin laundry, and thanked her
for her help.
When I
got back to my tent, I got a hint of the fear I should've been feeling, the
fear that Jackie had asked about. The tarp covering my tent had been pulled
back, and a note had been taped to my tent: "DO NOT STAY THERE. LEAVE
TODAY." I took a look around, wondering if whoever had left the note was
watching from somewhere in the trees. Was it someone who was staying around
here? Were they marking their territory, upset I'd treaded on their precious
spot? Or was it someone who owned the place, angry someone had trespassed?
Maybe a construction worker from the lot next to this one, giving a kind
warning? I didn't know, and at that point it wasn't important. I needed to pack
up and leave. I took the note off my tent, and stuck it to the tree I was next
to. I put everything away as quickly as I could. I considered how lucky I was
that whoever found my camp was kind enough to leave a warning, not just take or
destroy everything. Before leaving I wrote a response on the note, "OKAY,
THANKS. SORRY ABOUT THAT." I was really thankful all they did was leave
the note.
I moved
on until I got to a town called DeLeon. I found a heavily wooded area there,
and went deep, deep into the tree line. I broke through some heavy spider webs,
which assured me no one had been through here in a long time. I set up camp,
still kicking myself for having left the tent up at the previous site. My mind
was still not at ease that night. My doubts still weighed on me.
Day 9
I set out
early in the morning, shaken by the discovery of my camp the previous day. I
didn't want that to reoccur, so I moved before the sun came up. I thought it
highly unlikely anyone would find me this far into the trees, but I didn't
care. I was in no mood for it. I broke down the camp, and hit the road just as
the sunlight hit.
I walked
for several miles, stopping a couple of times to draw some monkeys my sister
had requested for her Etsy shop. I walked the bicycle lane on the road, since
there were no sidewalks that far out from town. I always walk against traffic
so I can see them coming. I had to veer off into the grass a few times due to
negligent drivers drifting into my lane. This happened quite a bit on this
road. It really surprised me just how many people are either not paying any
attention, or are giving all of their attention to their phones while traveling
at high speeds. I reflected on how often I was guilty of it. How important was
it for me to send a text that could've taken my attention for the most crucial
of seconds? Why was it so necessary for me to look up that one piece of
information I was curious about in at that specific time? I surprised a couple
of people as I walked, when I saw their eyes lazily leave their screens to look
up, suddenly seeing a person walking on the road. One woman swerved a bit out
of shock as she passed by me. I wondered if I might one day cause an accident
just for being there.
I
eventually made it to SR 40, and after a quick lunch at the gas station Subway,
and making sure my water tanks were filled as far as they could be, I started
heading west. I was heading into the Ocala National Forest, which spanned about
40 miles. I wasn't taking risks. I soon came across a sign, warning of bears
for the next 30 miles. Something new to look forward to.
I walked
several miles without stopping. I had some energy to burn off. I was still
conflicted, still with doubt. I hadn't yet shaken off the voice in my head.
"Quit. Stop now." I walked past a couple of places I could've stopped
for dinner, but couldn't bring my body to stop. My mind was racing. One pizza
place advertised "free wifi," which surprised me this far out in the
middle of nowhere. Sold, you have my attention. I locked up the DragonWagon in
their parking lot, behind some bushes and went in for their "world famous
pizza." Their connection took a few times to work, and it was slow, but it
was enough to tell the family I where I was, and how long it would be before my
next contact. It even managed to send the picture of monkeys to my sister, to
see if they were what she needed. The pizza was, in fact, delicious. After
almost draining my batteries due to the slow connection and lack of outlets, I
set off, close to sunset, in search for a place to camp.
Not far
down the road I found another patch of woods. The sun was setting, so I
couldn't get too picky. I went in, a picked a patch of grass off the path,
nestled between some thorn bushes that put up a bit of a fight. After a few
tears in the tarp and my skin, the camp was set up. I lay in my tent, bummed
out. I wasn't tired, despite all the walking I'd done. I was restless. I was
unfocussed. I tossed and turned, but nothing came of it. I decided I needed to
draw. I remembered seeing a restaurant close to the tree line, so I figured I'd
go there to draw for a while. That should take my mind off things, and let off
some steam. I got dressed, wrestled through some of the thorn bushes, and
headed over. With my flashlight I caught a shiny reflection off one of the
trees near my tent. I walked up to see what it was. It was a metallic sign
posted to the trunk, reading "Bearing Tree." I thought back to the
sign that said "Bears 30 miles," and wondered if I'd walked into some
sort of bear reserve or something. I had no idea what a bearing tree was. That
left me unnerved for a while as I walked to the restaurant.
*I now know, after a little research, that a bearing tree
shows that there is a boundary marker nearby. That meant there was a marker showing
the boundary of a property buried somewhere near that tree.*
The
restaurant was a small place, with a bar and a few tables behind a wall. It
seemed a few regular locals were hanging out, and only one waitress was working
both bar and tables. I decided to take a small table in the corner, with some
decent lighting, away from people. I didn't feel much like interacting with
anyone that night. I noticed they were running some sort of special for $1
beers, so I ordered one. I didn't get any food since I'd had the pizza not too
long before. I huddled over my sketch book and started drawing. The waitress
chatted with a couple of her regulars, sitting at their tables, catching them
up on her Thanksgiving dinner she'd cooked the previous week. Everyone seemed
calm and friendly. The place had a very soothing atmosphere. After a couple of
hours of drawing, I felt better, more relaxed. I finished my drawing and asked
for the bill. When the waitress came by to give me the check, she noticed my
drawing for the first time, since I wasn't huddled over it anymore. She laughed
out loud when she saw it, "Did you jus' draw that jus' now? I thought you
were doin' paperwork. I told mah friend over there, here you were, drinkin'
beer and doin' some kinda paperwork. Do ya mind if I jus' show this to
her?" She took my book over to the bar where a few of the locals were
sitting together, and they laughed when she told them what I'd been doing. They
seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, complimented me on it, and one even suggested I
could do children's coloring books. This boosted my spirits more than I can
say. I'd been so down for the past few days that this really affected me in a
positive way. It wasn't receiving compliments that hit me, it was that people
who had been quiet and calm for the couple of hours I'd been there, were
suddenly laughing out loud and conversing excitedly after seeing what I'd done.
We got into a short discussion of how a couple of them used to draw, and they
wished they hadn't quit. I encouraged them to take it up again, telling them
it's done wonders for me. I hope they do. I hope they at least try it once.
This small, seemingly meaningless interaction with these people made my day. I
felt positive again, refocused.
Day 10
I walked with a spring in my
step for most of the day. I rarely stopped since I felt motivated, positive. I
charged forward, and found myself taking the uphills almost at a jog. Nothing
was breaking my pace. Nothing was stopping me. Towards the afternoon, I walked
by a lake with a sign that showed it was for swimming. I almost stopped in for
a swim, after all my walking, but for some reason I didn't want to break my
stride. I had a good pace going, and didn't feel like stopping. A few miles
later I wished I had stopped. A quick swim would've been nice, refreshing. I
decided if I came across any other swimming holes, I'd stop in for a quick dip.
As luck would have it, a few more miles down the road, I came to Juniper
Springs. My heart leapt nostalgically. This was a spot my friends and I had
driven out to a few times while we were in high school. My family and I had
even stopped in once. It was a beautiful place to swim. I decided not to miss
out on this opportunity, so I went in.
I walked
up to the guard shack at the entrance, and looked over their pricing. $5 to go
in, $21 to camp. As I spoke to the red headed girl in the guard shack about the
pricing, she suddenly looked back at my wagon, "Actually, I can't even
charge you, you don't have a car. We charge for people to park their vehicles,
and they put the ticket in the dash. No one will bother you with this thing.
So, you can come in for free, and if you were to camp on the Florida Scenic
Trail, it would be free, too." I thanked her graciously for her help, and
walked in. I pulled my wagon right up to the spring, locked it up to a nearby
bench, and went into the water. The water was freezing, but divine. It was
crystal clear and full of tiny fish. If I didn't keep moving, the little fish
would swarm me, nibbling at my skin, mouths too small to bite. Also, if I
didn't keep moving, I froze. I swam around for a long while, enjoying the small
patches of sunlight that cut through the gaps in the trees. There were a few
people scattered about the spring. One family seemed to be British, another
American, and a third German. Everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves, enjoying
the spring between themselves.
As I swam
to the opposite side of the spring, trying to maintain my body heat up, I heard
a woman ask, "So are you on a spirit quest?" I looked around to find
a couple of women sitting on the wall by the water, presumably speaking to me.
I couldn't get a good look at them, since I'd taken my glasses off to go
swimming. They were two blurry figures who seemed to be facing me. "I
guess you could say that." I explained briefly what I was up to, and we
got to talking for a couple of minutes. I was swimming in my underwear, so
didn't feel much like stepping out to continue the conversation, but staying in
the water in one spot was really cold. I stayed in anyways, moving my arms and
legs as much as I could. We talked for a short while before the lady who had
started the conversation left, but the second woman remained. It became clear
very quickly that she just wanted to speak, since her conversation didn't leave
many opportunities for me to respond. She told me of her life in the country,
her time in California, her home in Canada, her stint in Mexico, the health
insurance in Canada, the injustice of Native Americans of her decent (I can't
remember what tribe she claimed to belong to, but they'd apparently been
excluded from several benefits the other tribes receive). By this point the
cold water was beginning to be torture. Several times she said her goodbyes and
had made to leave, but just continued talking. At one point she turned to a
couple of gentlemen who had sat down nearby and seamlessly aimed her
conversation at them. I took this as my opportunity for escape. I swam back to
my side of the spring, got out and dried off, trying to warm up again.
I'd went
back to the DragonWagon to put my clothes back on, as another woman walked up
to me. She had been on the other side of the water, the German family. She
confessed her curiosity, and we got to chatting about what I was doing. She
seemed like a very nice lady, and I enjoyed speaking with her. She and her
husband had also been traveling for some time, but just recently settled down.
After answering a few of her questions, she returned to her family. I was
getting a few things put away in the wagon, when she returned with a small
child, her son. She told me he had a few questions himself, which he asked her
in German. She would translate the question to me, I would answer, and she
would tell him in German what I'd said. He seemed excited, but shy. I pulled
out one of my sketchbooks, and showed him a few of my dragon pictures. As I was
showing him I asked her if he liked dragons, "Oh he is a boy like any
other. Dragons, dinosaurs, you name it." As they started walking away, having
seemingly satisfied their curiosity, she turned back and invited me over to
their campsite for dinner and drinks later.
I hadn't
planned on staying at Juniper Springs. I figured I would go in for a quick swim
and get a few more miles in before sunset. I debated for a while whether I
should stick to my plan, or stay instead. I decided to take the opportunity to spend
time with this family. After all, a big part of my journey is to meet new
people. One of my goals is to not be as introverted as I have been. This was a
good step for me in the right direction. I walked back out past the guard
shack, to the Florida Scenic Trail the girl had told me about. I found a
clearing big enough for my tent, and set up my camp. I put on the cleanest
clothes I had, and used maybe too much deodorant. I didn't want another repeat
of the depression I had a few days prior. I wanted to be clean and presentable.
I wished I could bring some offering to the table, though. A bottle of wine
would have been swell, that seemed like a thing to bring to a dinner one was
invited to. I had nothing to bring, nothing to offer in return for their
kindness. That's when it hit me, "Dragons, dinosaurs, you name it." I
just so happened to have a print of one of my dinosaurs. It could make a decent
offering for her son, who seemed to like the dragons. I put the print in my
bag, and I set off to meet them at their RV spot. As I walked over to their
place, however, I realized I never asked her her name. I didn't know whose camp
I was heading into. What if she wasn't there, and it was just her husband? What
would I say to him? I wondered if I should just turn around, tuck tail and run.
I decided to keep going. Meet new people. Have new experiences. Don't shut
down.
I reached
their RV plot to find the three of them having dinner already. She told me I'd
gotten there just in time. I sat down with them, and finally managed to formally
make our introductions. Her name was Caty, her son was William, and her
husband, whom I was just meeting for the first time, was Oliver. We drank, we
talked, we ate, we had a great time. William, who was 4 or 5 years old, kept
switching back and forth between speaking German and English. After he finished
his dinner, he seemed to become restless about not getting to his routine time
of TV viewing. He apparently didn't watch much normally, but it was habit to
watch after dinner. He seemed to be too young to fully grasp the concept of
being out in nature. I thought this to be as good a time as any, "I have a
gift for you William, I heard you like dinosaurs." Caty spoke excitedly to
him in German, presumably reiterating what I was saying. He looked eagerly at
me as I pulled out the small print of the dinosaur I'd brought for him. I
hadn't expected such a great reaction, he loved it. He completely seemed to
have forgotten about the existence of television as he ran around the campsite,
playing with the picture of the dinosaur as if it were a toy. It roared, it
flew, it ate, it destroyed cities. I was amazed what an effect it had on him,
and how happy he was with it. After some conversations with Oliver and Caty,
William returned to the table making some requests of his parents in German. They
translated that he wanted to cut the blank parts of the paper around the
dinosaur, which he named Terry the T-Rex, to make it more lifelike. It was
fascinating to see how meticulously he instructed his mother in the appropriate
way to cut around the outlines, all in German. Once this was done, he continued
to play with it as we continued talking.
I stayed
with them for about 3 hours, talking about travels, people, the differences
between countries, adventure, and nature. We played a couple of games with
William, where we were to pretend to be dinosaurs, dragons, and racecars. His
parents had to remind him a few times that I couldn't understand German, so
he'd explain in English instead. I guess that meant he was warming to me. After
a while he had wound down, but refused to go to bed, not wanting to miss
anything that was happening with the grownups. He fell asleep outside, on a
hammock next to the table we were sitting at, cuddling Terry the T-Rex. This
was, by far, one of the best, if not the best night of my journey so far. This
connection I made with this wonderful family was priceless. I was so glad I
decided to stay, and brave the meeting with strangers. I was so thankful they
allowed me to join them. I went back to my tent happier than I'd been in a long
while.
Day 11
I awoke to a very foggy
morning. I couldn't see the guard shack from the entrance to the trail, which
was just a few feet away. Packing up the camp was dirty work, since the trail
was all sand and dirt, and the foggy morning had dampened everything. As I
tried to fold the tarp into its place, it tracked dirt, which mixed into mud as
I rolled it. The bottom of the tent was completely covered in dirt and sand, so
I got it all over my pants as I rolled it up to put it away. Everything ended
up with dirt on it, stuck to the moisture. I quickly learned, that in the
future, I'd have to avoid dirt patches for camping in. I set off into the foggy
road, with a slightly soar left ankle from all the nonstop walking the previous
couple of days. I paid extra attention to oncoming traffic, since the fog hid
them until they were only a few yards away.
Several
miles up the road, I couldn't ignore my ankle anymore. I had to stop to try to
ice it, get some of the swelling down. I tried stretching the Achilles Tendon,
but to no avail. It was time to break open the first aid kit for the first
time. I'd combined two different kits into one, so I had a fair variety of
supplies, including two different ice packs. All I had to do was break the
contents inside the pack, and it should have gotten cold. I pulled one out,
crushed it, and waited. Nothing. I folded it, nothing. I read the instructions
more carefully, followed the little diagram as well as I could, to no result. I
smooshed everything inside the pack with
my fingers and thumbs, but still got nothing. Must have broken while in the
kit, or maybe expired? Maybe it was a dud. I pulled out my second ice pack,
read the instructions a couple of times, and crushed the contents. This time
something happened. It went from being warm, to being not-so-warm. Great, good
thing I brought these along for emergencies. Still, the not-so-warm ice pack
was cooler than my ankle, so I pulled a bandana out of my pack, and used it to
tie the pack tightly to my ankle. If nothing else, it served to put pressure on
it with some liquid padding. It seemed to be helping. I sat around for a bit,
drawing, trying to get my mind off of it. The thoughts of serious injury in the
middle of the woods admittedly started creeping in my mind.
I
continued on after some rest, and found that the pressure on my ankle was
helping quite a bit. There was no cooling from the ice pack, but the cushioning
was comforting. I walked a couple of miles up the road, and saw a car pull over
onto the grass ahead. A woman got out of the driver's seat and went to the back
door, rummaging through something. As I got closer, she emerged from the car,
and looked up at me, and started walking in my direction. When she got within
earshot I asked, "Are you okay? Do you need help?" She kept walking
towards me, and as she got closer she asked, "Would you like a
sandwich?" Not at all what I was expecting. She took me quite by surprise.
I told her I was fine, but thanked her for her kindness. "I just saw you
walking there with all that stuff, and it gave ME an appetite. I already made
the sandwich, and I have Dr. Pepper." She told me she was on her way to
work at the hospital with her mother, who was in the passenger's seat. I
accepted the offer of a sandwich, which she gave me two of, but politely turned
down the soda. I thanked them both for their kindness as they drove off,
honking their horn when they passed. There are truly some selfless people in this
world, and they continue to surprise me.
A few
miles later, I came to a small town, and stopped at a small restaurant that
served burgers and hotdogs. I sat down for a decent meal, and took advantage of
the table to draw for a while. After my break, since the sun was getting low, I
began to get ready to set off again. As I was adjusting a few things into the
DragonWagon, a kid on a bike stopped next to me. I had a hard time
understanding his thick southern accent, but by the sound of it, he was trying
to sell me pot. I guess I fit the profile. I thanked him for the curbside
offer, and after a few words, he sped off in the opposite direction. I set off
again.
As I
walked, and the sun was setting, I couldn't decide on a good spot to turn into
to set up camp. I was losing light, and there were too many farms around, too
much private property. I finally saw a place just before a curve in the road
ahead, but didn't want to be seen turning into it, since the tree line was
really close to the road. I waited for a moment when there were no cars coming,
and turned in. I wasn't exactly sure if this was a good spot or not, but I
didn't have much time to be picky. There was a seedling patch to one side of
the trees, and a farm to the other, where I heard a dog start barking as I
walked in. Every step I took crunched loudly on the ground covered with dry
leaves. I stopped moving when I heard the barking getting louder and louder.
Was the dog running towards me? Could it hear me? Was it actually barking at
me? I sat down and waited for about 20 minutes, as the sun was setting and the
darkness set in, before I decided the dog was just barking. It may have gotten
louder, but it wasn't getting closer. I set up camp in the dark as the
mosquitoes started feasting, and the dog continued to bark. My tent and tarp
both smelled from the mud they'd tracked from the foggy morning, and the dog
continued to bark. I settled in for an early night, and the dog barked for two
more hours. Finally, it stopped barking, and I got some sleep.
Day 12
I got up early in the morning
to make sure there weren't any curious dogs that may have been let loose. When
I didn't hear any barking, I did my best to clean off the now dried dirt off
the tarp and tent by dragging them across the thick layer of dry leaves on the
ground. It seemed to work quite effectively to scrape off the sand and dirt
that had been stuck on from the moisture. I packed up, and set off up the
curve, taking note that my ankle was not hurting anymore.
Several
miles up the road, I got to a bridge. I really don't like bridges. The bike
lane was narrow, and the climb was steep. This meant I would have a hard climb,
drivers would get little time to see me over the road, and I would have nowhere
to go if they happened to veer into my lane. I decided my best course of action
was to go with the flow of traffic, instead of against it. I crossed to the
opposite side of the road when there were no cars coming, but nearly fell when
I tripped on my own pant legs. That would've been great. I was glad no one was
around to see the awkward recuperation from it. As I climbed the incline of the
bridge, I got to look over the ledge at the beautiful view of a stream cutting
through the woods. As the bridge climbed higher, it passed over another body of
water that came to an end along the tree line, trapping green plants along the
edges. The bridge scaled well above the trees, giving a beautiful view of the
canopy. As I reached the peak, I noticed how many pieces of broken glass and
dislodged metal were littered along the bike lane. Having such a narrow space
to travel, and with cars and trucks whizzing by, I had no way of avoiding the
debris. I took the downhill at a near trot since the angle was so extreme.
As I came
to the end of the bridge, I saw a car pulled over ahead. I wondered how long
it'd been there since I hadn't seen it pull over. A dark haired woman emerged
from it and started walking in my direction, with something strapped over her
shoulder. Again, I waited until she was within earshot, and asked, "Are
you okay? Do you need any help?" She shook her head and said, "No,
I'm fine. Mind if I walk with you for a bit?" I was, again, surprised by
the response. "Sure, if you'd like." She told me she'd seen me
walking the previous day, and again today, and asked me what I was doing. I
explained a little bit of what my journey was, and she seemed intrigued. I
noticed it was a camera strapped over her shoulder when she explained she
worked for a magazine. She told me they were doing a special issue which might
fit my adventure, and asked permission to take some pictures and ask some
questions. I humbly obliged. We spoke for a while, she took some pictures of
the DragonWagon and some of my drawings, we exchanged contact information. Before
she got back in her car, she said, "I'm glad I decided to wait for you at
the bottom of a bridge." I was flattered and humbled.
After she
left I crossed back to the opposite side of the road, so I would be facing oncoming
traffic again. I noticed as I was crossing, though, that the load on the wagon
was a little off, so I stopped in the grass on the other side to adjust it. As
I was hooking up the last bungee cord, a jeep pulled right up to my wagon on
the grass. A tough looking man came out, and walked up to me. I stayed close to
my walking stick. "Are you here for the gathering?" Being the nerd
that I am, the first thing that popped into my mind was Magic: The Gathering, a
card game. Then I thought cult. Then I imagined robed figures standing around a
virgin sacrifice. Next I wondered if it was some kind of local code for drugs
or something. I responded, "Umm... I don't know of any gathering, so I
guess not?" He laughed. "I thought you were here for the Rainbow
Family gathering, what with your bandana and wagon and all." He explained
that every year, hippies from all around got together at different national
forests around the world, calling themselves the Rainbow Family. They joined
together to celebrate peace and nature and the like. Apparently there was a
gathering in the Ocala National Forest around February, but people often
started showing up as early as December. I told him I hadn't ever heard of it,
but it definitely sounded like something I might look into. He gave me a couple
of websites to check out, and even gave me his own email, in case I was in the
area and needed any help or a ride, said his name was Ron. I thanked him as he
drove off.
I made
sure my pack was secure, and started walking up the street. I didn't get a
quarter mile from the bridge before I realized I had a flat tire. This was my
last replacement tube, so I'd have to stop somewhere to fix or replace the
punctured ones. It didn't take me long to replace the tube, since I'd figured
out how to do it the previous time. After fixing it, I started walking again,
but didn't get a hundred feet before noticing the other tire was now flat. Fucking
shit, come on. Best I could figure, all the debris on the bridge I couldn't
avoid must have done a real number on my tires. I was now out of replacements.
As I was evaluating my situation, a thick bearded man on a motorized bicycle
pulled up and stopped. "You with the Rainbow Family?" Okay, that was
weird, it had barely been an hour since I was asked the same question. We spoke
about the gathering, he told me he'd been involved with them for years. He
mentioned how they were all really kind, really giving, and since he was part
of the cleanup crew, he got to keep a lot of equipment that was left behind
every year. I eventually asked him if there was anywhere nearby I could fix my
tire, and he mentioned a Walmart just a couple of miles up the road. I thanked
him for his help, and asked him his name. "My name is Ron." What the
hell?? Two Ron's within one hour, and both asking about the Rainbow Family I'd
never heard of before? Creepy.
I
continued on up the road the couple of miles to the Walmart. I reached a Burger
King just outside of it, and decided to go in for some food first. I contacted
the family for the first time in a few days of walking through the forest,
letting them know I was alive and well, despite a few hiccups along the way. I
found I was in Silver Springs, just outside of Ocala, and that I had just
passed my turn. The road I passed was CR 35, but on the map it read as 58th
Ave. Thanks for that one Apple Maps. When I finished communicating with
everyone, I went to throw my trash away.
There was
a couple sitting at the table by the trashcan, and as I walked by, the man
said, "You must be here for the Rainbow Gathering." You have got to
be kidding me. "No, but you're the third person to say that to me today.
At this point I'm starting to think I might as well be." I spoke for a
little while with the couple, who were homeless. We talked about the Rainbow
Family for a little while. They were telling me their experiences with it, and
what they knew about it. I introduced myself, and I shamefully forgot the
girl's name, because the man introduced himself as "Ron." No fucking
way. I meet three complete strangers on
the same day, they all ask me about these Rainbow people, and they're all
fucking named Ron??? I can't write this down in a blog and expect anyone to
believe me. "Ron" must be some kind of code name. That must be it. If
you ever ask anyone about the Rainbow Family, it must be a rule of some kind
that you have to refer to yourself as Ron. There's no other explanation for it.
It must be something like "Friends of Dorothy."
After my
non-credible experience at the Burger King, I went to the Walmart to get
replacement tubes for my tires. I fixed the tire, and set off down the road I'd
passed. I reached David's house just as night fell, and thus ended my second
trek.
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