Looking Back East

After yesterday’s thirty mile sprint very nearly ended with a dehydration bonk, I woke up early this morning to pack up the tent and hit the road to knock out the next twenty mile segment.  

An early start would, I hoped, allow an early finish when the day was a little cooler.  Also, I was stealth camping in a spot far to visible from the side of the road to allow it to endure the illumination of the light of day.

Packing the tent up in the dark was not my favorite experience of the journey, but once I had it all broken down and stuffed away, I glanced over my left shoulder and witnessed the blush of dawn creeping up over the eastern horizon.

Sunrise - Paw Paw, IL

This morning’s sunrise was a beauty, and shortly after taking this shot, I grabbed a final round of red Powerade, ate a convenience store Italian sandwich, and hit the road.

It all worked out, although I walked for literally miles today on what the county creatively calls an unimproved township road without seeing a single car. I’d just call it gravel, but the limited car encounters were nice. I’m fifty miles into a pretty tough seventy mile, three-day stretch, and I’m hoping to wrap that all up tomorrow.

Until then, enjoy the sunrise whether you see it here or get up and watch it unfold in real time.

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.

One State Down, Eleven to Go

Today, we passed out of the northwest corner of Rhode Island and into Massachusetts.  One state down, eleven to go. I’m pretty excited that we cleared our first state. I know, I know.  It’s te small one, and the rest are going to be quite a bit bigger and more challenging. Acknowledging all that, I’ll take he wins where we can get them.

Rhode Island-Massachusetts State Line Marker in the Background

There were and handful of other firsts today as well.  We’re camping for the first time tonight, and we’re breaking the rules to do it.  Stealth camping at its best, but we’ve already been caught.

It would not be camping if it wasn’t raining, and that’s a first for the trip as well.

We had our longest day walking today clocking in 19.22 miles.  Although we’re not quite on pace, I’m pretty pleased with the 14 miles per day we’ve averaged over the last five days.  We started off strong, and we're both settling into the daily rhythm of he road. Camping and moving was the net big hurdle to clear, and we’re giving that a shot as we speak.  More to follow on that tomorrow, but I’m optimistic.

Finally, it is hard to believe that  week ago today, I was hanging out with a great group of friends and celebrating the end of my Navy career.  it seems like so much has happened in those seven days. The travel has helped of course, but the massive life changes have been truly astounding in the bes of all possible ways.  I don’t know any other way to put it. I just feel that I’m on the right path right now, and I can't wait to see where it leads.

Route Planning III - "Stealth Camping"

The plan Rory and I are counting on is a combination of hotel/motel stays, couch crashing, and stealth camping. The majority of that time will be spent stealth camping.

Stealth camping is the art and practice of finding a nonconventional place to set up your camp and sleep without leaving any trace of your being there and without getting caught. It sounds illegal, but this is not universally true. That said, when I talk about stealth camping with my cubicle mates, they pretty quickly conclude that stealth camping sounds a lot like being homeless. That’s because stealth camping is exactly like being homeless, but at least you have a tent.

Although Rory and I are planning on the tent/sleeping under the stars version of stealth camping, there are actually at least a couple of versions of the ninja camping arts. Stealth camping really got it start in the long distance bicycling community. This foray into the art was followed closely by through hikers and long distance walkers. Finally, the van life folks got involved and started stealth camping in their vans within the confines of urban areas.

From the research I’ve done, it seems that stealth camping really is more of an art than a practice. There are only a few rules.

1. Stay one night
2. Leave no trace
3. Don’t get caught

Rory and I plan on attempting mostly legal stealth camping. Options for this type of stealth camping are plentiful, and we plan on taking advantage of them to the greatest extent possible. Federal land offers a couple of options for legal “stealth camping.” In National Forests dispersed camping is an option. On Bureau of Land Management this practice of dispersed camping or camping outside of designated camp areas (within the rules set forth by each district manager) is generally called boondocking by the full time RV crowd. Generally speaking, you are allowed to stay for up to 14 days in the same campsite on BLM land unless prohibitions on camping are posted.

Borrowing another technique from the full time RV band of nomads, Rory and I intend to “stealth camp” legally by using an exotic technique known as asking for permission. The RV’ers call it moochdocking, and I really like the idea conveyed by that name. Though we haven’t had the opportunity to test this approach in real life, there are a number of folks who have used it to great effect.  The plan is to find a promising location, knock on some doors, and ask if the owners or tenants know of any place in the area that might be available for a night of camping.

Other folks that we’ve talked about contacting in a populated area for ideas on where to camp are police and fire stations, churches, and even locally owned businesses. We’re basically counting on the social nature of people and putting our night’s sleep in the hands of the trail angels we meet along our path.

At least one important aspect of this pilgrimage is to reconnect with the people of America that Rory and I have somehow lost touch with in the day to day grind of our working level existence. I’m looking forward to the opportunity to meet new folks and the prospect of asking them for help along our journey. Wish us luck, and if you have a campable piece of ground somewhere along US Highway 20 that you’re willing to share for an evening drop us a line (bwalthrop@gmail.com). We’d love to hear from you!