Friday, July 30, 2017 (Day 88)
I sit atop my mat at a campsite near Pochohontas Spring. What a beautiful, clear, cold spring it is. I dumped the water I gathered in town, from the drinking fountain in the Hamburg Wal-Mart. The crickets sing…or is it a cricket? It is echoed all around me. First a group to my West, then a response from the East.
I enjoy this spot. It has a certain sense of openness. There is even a small round clearing in the trees, framing five brightly shining stars overhead. It is a beautiful clear night, a pleasing temperature, a gentle almost imperceptible wind.
A train calls out in the distance. So many life-forms and styles and missions co-existing within such a tight radius: the bustling of the city below, the chirping of the crickets, the hunting of the snake, the powerful deliverance of a train, my human observance of it all. It is quite beautiful.
My trip in to town was nice and so well facilitated by the kindness of others.
As I walked through the small town of Port Clinton, following the blazes to where it re-enters the woods, I saw a lady with her dog, returning from a stroll. I asked her about the direction of Hamburg and the Wal-Mart. She offered to give me a ride there. How lovely!
I resupplied and sat atop the speckled grey cement, back against the roughly textured building, facing row upon row of shopping carts. I repackaged my food, waited for my things to charge and hitched back to the trail. I had barely raised my arm, thumb extended, before someone greeted me with a ride.
I made the climb out of town and came to the lovely Pochohontas Spring.
I knew when I came to the site, that I did not wish to head any further.