6/27- Over Heated

Todd and I both have talked on many occasions here about this idea of synchronicity. The idea that things or people will appear right when you need them, assuming that you've got your head on straight to begin with. We've also gotten into how it works in reverse as well, such as down in Maryland as we tried to be the great explorers of the known world, and south Jersey insisting that we Forest Gump our way north rather than just friggin' hop on a train and get there. There'll be a quiz at the end of this chapter on these principles. I bring them up, however, because this week in June I was to be slapped in the face with the wet fish of the world to tell me to sit down and shut up again and let other things out of my control play themselves out.

This little display of Heavenly spanking took no time in making its disappointment in me known. Tuesday's god awful heat was just the beginning of an impressive heat wave that would hang in the area through Thursday. Todd talks about Beaver Cleaver being a cutter, well, Ole Blue returned to his sadistic ways of Colorado and had been chopping at my lower back from the excessive weight and poor hip belt design. Then, on Wednesday morning, I rose from my briar patch to the hum of waking mosquito wings and quickly executed my exit to the road thinking of how much I'd really like a breakfast that morning but had no intention of lingering. Instead, I returned to the black top and made for a guard rail over a creek a hundred yards ahead where I could set up my nifty little alcohol stove, and cook one of my nifty little camp meals of ham and eggs that Todd's friend Steve had sent us.

Everything worked splendidly. There was a nice patch of shade to cook in out of the omnipresent heat, and those camp meals really do cook up incredibly easy and taste incredibly good; surprisingly it actually tasted like ham and eggs almost exactly. The problem was that its so easy it only requires a smidge of boiled water, so the amount of fuel I'd put in the stove was a bit much. Me being me (i.e. needlessly time oriented and dumb as a stone) I tried to pick the burning stove up with the pot handle to toss the remainder of the burning fuel into the creek so that the stove could cool down enough to pack by the time I finished eating. Instead, the fire of this portable kitchen hearth ran up my arm to my elbow freaking the bejesus out of me causing me to spill some of said burning fuel onto my pack burning a hole through the side and through the back of my rain parka. Good job, Chris... dumb ass.

The ham and eggs really were good though. I let the fuel burn out in its own time after that and sat down to enjoy my scrumptious breakfast to that outdoorsy smell of burnt arm hair. In good time I packed everything back up and sauntered off down the road again toward Swanton, my hand stinging just a bit from 2nd degree burns. Three miles later I arrived in town dripping of sweat having taken three or four breaks along the way. The heat was some where in the mid-90's that day with the embelishment of probably 100% humidity to complete that nice oven fresh feel. I plopped in at the library in town for a good two to three hours of air conditioning, which normally I'm not a fan of but today it felt amazing.

By 3pm, however, I decided I was going to head back out on the road again having lingered long enough toying on Facebook and checking my email every half hour on the half hour in complete procrastination to going back out again. I was heading to Shelly's to retrieve my Rt. 66 mug that I'd left in her car on Sunday. My plan at the time was to pop in, say hi, then hit the roads in full swing and possibly see if I could hitch down to Indianapolis for the weekend to see an acquaintance down there. I say acquaintance because I don't really know the guy all that well, it just seemed like a good place to head to and say hi to someone familiar instead of sitting around waiting to see if Todd was going to want to stay yet another week or not in Hillsdale. While at the library, however, I saw that I was not to be received down there, and returning to the heat once more I was beginning to see the folly of my wanting to be Mr. Wanderlust Man for the weekend just to feel salty again.

I was a wet sponge of steam heated sweat being dragged over a tar marble road. Downing the last of my little energy-in-a-bottle things, like that one Karen had given me back in Denver, I cast out my last ditch effort to not making myself miserable and boosting my energy to crawl seven miles. I made it three before a guy pulled up next to my wandering carcass and asked if I needed a ride. The usual flash of my typical Walking response of "Oh no, I'm walking across the country" dawned briefly in my mind and the rest of my sun fried brain bitch slapped that little quote across the face managing to expel "that would be amazing, please" with a dopey smile suddenly crossing my face. Five minutes later I was sitting on Shelly's back patio, splayed out on her lawn couch.

Shelly would be a little while longer at work, however, so I made my way up to the A/C of the Delta library where I confirmed with her via Facebook that it would be okay for me to stay the night that night. By evening, we were back to sitting around the TV, relaxing, and eating dinner.

"We humans are a little dumb sometimes" was an apt quote to kick off my week that week, no wonder it had struck me so. Sitting here in the luxury of Shelly's hospitality I was still of the confounded mindset of wondering whether or not I'd be staying the next night. The heat, the humidity, the absurd weight of Ole Blue, and the cuts in my lower back from it had still not convinced me entirely not to drift off and fuck around on the road just because I had the time on my own to. I was even consciously reading the signs that were telling me quite specifically "Dude, sit down, shut up, and take this time to refocus your stupid ass." The omniverse can be quite crass in its language, you know, says spiritual guru Friar Chris. Instead it took two days of languishing procrastination, and the thick barricade of a humidity wall outside, to make me realize I was in the most perfect place for myself right there on Shelly's couch. Even with that giant burn blister on my right hand knuckle staring me in the face telling me disaster loomed if I set off again.

Thankfully I did listen in the end, though I fear that this display of obvious indication was the world at large's last straw with me and that the next time I don't listen to such signs I'll be on my own. Time to sharpen up and start paying attention again. It was a good few days, however. After moaning about not getting to go out and play I did manage to sit myself down and recognize that something else is brewing out there that needs me to just wait here a little longer. I talked with Todd some about this, and he seems to be in a similar state of mind. He seems to want to go, but knows he needs to stay just a bit longer. Had we pressed ourselves into leaving last weekend he would have missed his shot at meeting his Dad again this upcoming Sunday. There was a reason it didn't occur to us to just set off despite both of us wanting to. On that same logic (which I know many of you would argue is not logic, but it is to me after this concentration of experiences) I think the gateway west will open up after that meeting and something will lay itself out. If I were to guess when, I would say next Wednesday, but I couldn't say how or why, I just think things will work out that way despite me wanting to go now.