Saturday, July 22, 2017 (Day 80)
I don’t want to be tired any more.
I long to be out there further. Away from the wooden benches and potable water from a faucet, and streets and streets and cars. I want the silence of the woods.
I stopped in a clearing off of the trail. When the wind blows, more rain falls, having collected in the trees. I long to set up my tent and sleep. Oh, sleep! but I can not. I must keep going.
I boil water for coffee. I must keep going, I repeat to myself. The thought settles in, taking on the form of something that could almost pass as motivation.
I crossed US Route 30. The trail on the opposing side offers an entirely different feel. Green with vines and low hanging musty clouds, fallen lychen covered trees, the woods are suddenly filled with birdsong.
I knew the rain would fall with the sun. That is why I am here, under this overhang atop the grey cement at Caladonia State Park. The black, metal gate, has been pulled down from the roof, like a garage door, protecting the ticket booth and the entrance to the pool. Signs are posted on the booth: “Cash Only” “No Refunds Due to Weather” “No Coolers Allowed”. There is a light bulb overhead, with a cloud of frantically dancing bugs. This light makes me clearly visible; me and all my things displayed in the corner of a brightly lit rectangle of cement, kept dry under a wood planked ceiling supported by stone pillars. This light will be on all night. Oh, how I wish it was not so bright. I watch the cars in the distance.
I pull my sleeping back over my eyes. Darkness.