While packing I cleverly devised a much better method of tucking my bivy away that made everything in my pack quickly accessible, saved on space, and cut packing time from forty five minutes down to five. When I excitedly told Todd about this he gave me a blank look of what I interpreted as awe. Either that, or because my bright idea was suspiciously exactly like what he'd been suggesting I do since our test walk in March. I believe the former.
It was a really beautiful day on that back country road. Reminded me a lot of going through Georgia, actually. The days of The Walk were swarming around me, which was silently building some mental confusion.
It was the first continuous walking day, and I was back to my old routines. We'd walk a few miles, plop down for half an hour, then ramble on. We did this down our back road, then turned down 309 which was a hair busier, but only a hair, until we finally reached 404.
404 was the main road we were heading toward when that cop turned us around the day before. It is highway busy, and had a gas station on either corner of the intersection. We stopped in for reorientation and a bit of a rest. As far as the day was going I was feeling pretty good. Todd was seeming a bit beat up with his heel blistering, and feeling like a bit of an anchor since I was still bouncing along in my element.
This brought on the topic of the gas station stop the day before. As we shifted from resting at one gas station to moving to the other for water he adorned his serious topic face to address a concern we had, admittedly, been skirting since probably last summer, and one that even my friend Ang back in Denver had showed concern about.
It was the obviousness of the different modes of travel we're used to. There's actually quite a bit that is wrapped up in a simple difference like that which would drive into the very purpose of this excursion on a whole. Todd's initial concern that he mentioned was us stewing under petty grievances until it boils into a 
roadside explosion in the middle of nowhere and ends in a split. We've both been through this. Todd with Bruno on his bike tour as I found out in this discussion, and me with Angie for very different reasons just south of Wyoming. Those explosions ended those trips for both Todd and Angie.
These were the concerns but getting at the root took longer than that one talk. It was, however, a very good beginning. There are control issues involved that I think were hinted at, though we didn't squarely face them. At home, I'm a very easy tag along. I rarely care what we do or where we go as long as its interesting or fun. Out here I think of it as my time, and limited at that since I don't want to be doing this for life. As Ingrid would testify, I can become a little demanding, though my demeanor stays the same which can be confusing.
Todd too, I believe, thinks of this as his element. He has a way he likes to live and this trip, I believe, is a push on how to figure out how to do it sustainably. It is for me too, but I think his investment is more sincere for that reason. Either way, all of that boils down to figuring out a blend of our methods for a few reasons. One being the obvious of finding a common balance between our two headstrong approaches to this way of life to be able to stomach one another. The other, and more important, is to free ourselves from being stuck in our ways so that even if we do split ways later on, which we both foresee, that we'll have grasped and gained the others experiences.
That was just the beginning of the conversation. We left the gas station at that point with vague solutions of alternating methods by day. That seemed to me like an idea that would immediately fall apart as situations arose, but was a good starting point in the vain of compromise. We went just under two more miles and made camp in what Todd deemed a spider den.
That night, while Todd wrote, I lay awake thinking about what the hell I was doing. All point that I had seen back in Denver as I prepared to go was invisible. I ran through my head what was it that I intended to explore that I couldn't have done back there. I've already proven to myself I can walk long distances with heavy packs on my back. 
Which, dumb as that may sound, was absolutely something I needed to prove to myself. I had wanted to explore this notion of synchronicity. By all rights, if it is something that exists should be just as valid standing still following a business plan as much as it seems to be while traveling. Traveling just seems to heighten the instincts to tune into it easier. My worry started to grow, especially with my insistence that "the trip" didn't really start until we started walking on Tuesday, that I was just rehashing my glory days of the walk. This notion was abhorrent to me.
The reason I said "invisible" rather than vanished before is because the idea of going home again just didn't seem right either. It did occur to me as this surge of confusion came over me. I'll admit as well that the reason I rejected it at first was due to pride. Four weeks out and my travel bug is satiated is a blatant self lie. The underlying reason I rejected turning back was because I did indeed come out here to do something, I had just lost sight of it at the moment in all the hubbub of being back out here.
Often, in times like these, I remember a day I had in New York back in the early years of school there. I was battling extreme highs and extreme lows. My film career was just starting to go well with demand going up for me to work student sets. I was running a clothing store for some friends of mine that was starting to do quite well despite being way out of that sort of shopping district. I was living in a building where I knew everyone in it, my friends felt very much like a tight knit family, and as I walked around the city I knew people most places I went. Those were the good days, king of the town in the greatest city on Earth.
The very next day I'd be able to look at every one of those things I'd be beaming about the day before and convince myself they were all gross exaggerations of the true situation. Suddenly I was running some crappy clothing store that wasn't even turning a profit. I was only working occasional sets, and just student ones as a lowly boom operator, leaching off a deal made with my best friend to split any money we made because he had no appreciation for money anyway. I suddenly had a lot of distant acquaintances, but few friends. You get the idea. I could flip anything I was proud of around to be some bastardized version of an over hyped achievement.
That one day I recount, however, was when I was able to clearly see myself doing it. I still do it now, but when I start really having a go at myself for being a waste away, detached, or too listless, I don't try to recount anything good about myself, instead I just think on that realization and know not to do anything drastic, as I'm prone to, and just wait to see how I feel tomorrow.
Click here for Todd's perspective.
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