Big Sky and One Meter Around Me

The rain from yesterday cleared out in the afternoon, and we were able to find what we thought was a primo “Stealth Camping” site at an undisclosed location in Walkerton, Indiana. We checked the surroundings for security lights.  That’s a mistake from the Duanesburg, NY airport that we didn’t want to repeat.

No lights.  No clear line of sight from any roads or parking lots.  Access to a convenience store and power outlets. Well drained grassy spot that would accommodate our tent. Check, check, check, check, and check. We set up the tent, and were just crawling in for a good night's sleep.

Dad in our train infested camping site - Walkerton, IN

Pro tip.  Always check your surroundings for an active railroad track that might be about twenty yards away from your campsite and hidden by a thick stand of trees.  Fortunately, not more than fifteen, but definitely not less than twelve trains passed through announcing their presence with a piercing shriek of their whistle followed by five or six minutes of metallic rumbling as they lumbered through the area.

The morning dawned bright and clear, and we headed west.  Today was almost all county roads. The traffic consisted of a couple of garbage trucks, an odd tractor or three, and a small handful of rural mail delivery cars.  The postwoman drove from the passenger seat, and I’ll tell you that I haven’t quite gotten used to seeing a minivan or a jeep headed my direction with apparently no one at the wheel.

Other than that, it was quiet.  The sun warmed our skin, and the breeze carried away our perspiration leaving a glorious cool sensation. The sky stretched overhead in a light blue dome from horizon to horizon.

Westbound county road - Indiana

The only distraction was the crunch of our feet in the gravel, the twitter of birds, the occasional irrigation pump, and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. That last one always sounded to me like a driverless minivan delivering the post, so I spent a little time looking over my shoulder which is surprisingly difficult while walking with a pack.

Long story short, it the silence prevailed. The road arrowed westward, the blue sky arched overhead, and I was left with my thoughts.

These quiet times are when I realize the extent of my own internal chatter.  What were we thinking? What’s our destination going to be like? Will I run out of water three miles out and have to endure cotton mouth at the end of the day.  Then I catch myself and look at the sky and the road fading into the distance.

All is well right now.  In this moment, I’m good and safe and secure in this one square meter around me. Take the next step, and the rest will work itself out in the time that it’s needed. That’s the rhythm of the road and the message of the blue dome floored in greens and browns, broken by the occasional farmhouse or barn all around me.

Donation Boxes

The clouds parted, the sun came out, and although the weather was still a little cool I shifted my focus today and started locating (or at least trying to locate) donation boxes. I'm coupling this foray into minimalism with at least two other aspects of my daily practice. If possible, I'm walking to the "excess stuff" drop off locations, and I'm spreading the wealth in a fit of exploration. I don't know if it will all work out, but it feels pretty righteous right now.

Today, the walk to the donation box took me a different direction primarily along one of my more familiar routes. Due to the foot, I haven't walked this one since the middle of January, and this afternoon proved to be quite a bit more pleasant than 28 degrees and a north wind.

College Creek Under a Spring Sky

The watershed around College Creek shows signs of awakening, and the cherry blossoms around the Maryland Statehouse are still in full bloom.

Cherry Blossoms on State Circle

The sky was clear and blue, and although the air was chilly the sidewalks and streets and businesses were crowded with more than a handful of people eager to get out of their dens and start sucking the marrow out of life again.

Maryland Statehouse on a Glorious Spring Day

All the people out milling around forced me to think a little about some of my habits. It occurred to me that while I'd walked past the Maryland Statehouse at least a hundred times, I had never walked up the hill to get up close and personal. The one time that I ventured off the sidewalk facing the street, I took a quick picture of a statue and beat a hasty retreat to my familiar trail. I walk to explore, but somehow, during the execution of my ambulatory affairs, I forget that spirit of new horizons and push my nose right back into the comforting grindstone. It's a peculiar lack of creativity during an activity specifically designed to break my mold and reintroduce me to a touch of artistry and wonder. Weird.

Maryland Statehouse and Some Sort of Red Tree

However it happened, today the mold cracked a little, and some new vistas caught my eye. They showed a curious mix of the routine coupled with a whole new perspective, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to mix things up just a bit.

Adding the challenge of offloading things that have bound me to my past has been a good exercise for the first four days of the journey. I look forward to sending five more books out into the wild tomorrow and seeing just what kind of adventure those relics of a time past its sell by date bring to bear in the present.

Back Again after a Day of Rest

The pace I was taking during the month of December finally caught up with me yesterday, and I ended up falling asleep on the couch and didn't manage to get anything written. I thought about finishing something up earlier this morning, but decided against it and let things ride for a day.  That left me with two panoramic shots from yesterday that I'll go ahead and post in keeping with my loose rule set, but frankly they're not close to my favorite photographic work to date.  I suppose the weariness was being reflected in just about everything I did yesterday.

Severn River from Triton Light

The day was crisp, but clear and the sun was a welcome addition from the recent spate of cloudiness. Although Triton Light is more than a little washed out from the sun, the flying gull was a happy surprise.  I did not realize at the time I'd caught one in the air.

Fitch Bridge over College Creek at Night

The clarity of the day extended into the evening hours leading to some bracing temperatures, but during the walk that led to this relatively uninspiring shot I saw a great many stars for the first time in a very long time. Orion, the Hunter, was low in the eastern sky, and it was warming in spite of the cold to have the suns of other solar systems back in my sights.

After some much needed rest, today was a much better day. It worries me some that although I'm putting in some credible distances a month of less than half the N2N-TCP goal leads to a degree of weariness that, so far, is quite difficult to push through.  Be that as it may, the only thing for it is to keep pressing I suppose.

Severn River Sunrise

I happened to be crossing the bridge in the foreground of the last photo just at sunrise this morning, and at about the mid-span point I decided to turn around and try to capture some of the unfolding grandeur from a park on the northeast side of the Severn River.

Sunrise over the Severn River

The content of the last two photos is similar, and I waffle between which one I like better than the other. The warmth of the second shot is enticing, but I think the first picture more accurately captures the calm cold feeling of the morning.

Abandoned Docks in the Shadow of the Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard Bridge

The abandoned docks on the banks of the Severn in the shadow of the Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard high bridge over the river bring me back to a simpler time when the watermen of the Chesapeake plied their trade to harvest the bounty of the Bay. There is no doubt that the industrialization of these activities has allowed more efficient use of folks time, but it seems to me that we've lost some of the connection to the natural beauty and connection to our environment in the process.

Boat Stored for the Winter on the Severn

This boat in its left has become part of the landscape for me. I actually don't ever remember seeing this boat lift empty. It's something that I'll have to watch for going forward because a boat out of water most of the time strikes me as a little sad. She seems like she wants to run, and I'd like to see her out there cutting the water.

New Day on the Severn

This picture capture the beginning of what turned out to be a remarkable January day on the Severn River. The air was still crisp, but the golden sun rising out of the east telegraphed the warmth with a bit of a nip that would follow for about the next seven hours or so.  Although I hadn't yet hit the trail, I like to think that the practice of walking prepped me for taking the moments required to witness the sun ushering in a new day. Being well rested didn't hurt a bit either.