On the way to my sister's house in South Portland from where I spent the night in Scarborough, I noticed that the rear wheel of the bike was dragging. Despite how many times I examined it I could not see what the problem was. I rode it down a few hills but I could tell the friction was getting greater.
By the time I reached the border of South Portland it was just easier to push the bike. Traffic was very heavy too, and that section of Route 1/9 has hardly any break-down lane. Things were feeling a bit unsafe. The sun was really beating down now and though I had left my hat out to bring, somehow I had forgotten it. And here's a weird thing that happened: I was working so hard to keep the bike on the road pushing it without getting hit by cars that my eyes began to tear. But it was more like sweat. It was like I was sweating around my eyes. This is something I'd never experience before. I had to constantly stop and use my sleeve to dry my eyes.
After what seemed like an eternity I finally reached my sister's house and set about ditching the bike in her garage and consolidating only the useful items. She came out and was very helpful finding a way to secure my sleeping bag under the backpack. After several failed attempts we got that sucker on there. I have a regular backpack, not a hiker's pack, so there just aren't enough hooks and straps. But we did it anyway. And before long I was back on the road. As I stated in my last post, the idea now was to find a good place to sleep. I headed down to Mill Creek Park in downtown South Portland.
Mill Creek is a nice little place. It has a small pond that is always populated with ducks and the ever-present, squawking, screaming seagulls. I sat for a long time on a bench just resting and eating some nuts and seeds my sister gave me (which were very satisfying by the way), I decided to spend my last $3 on a meal that would get me through to the next day - Monday - when I'd be able to withdraw some money from my bank. I had brought with me two whole wheat hamburger buns. I walked over to Hannaford Supermarket and was able to find a package of four pieces of ham for $0.99 and a half gallon on pomegranate-lemonade for $1.29. I was in business!
Though I look a little bit like a bald, pudgy, gnome, I actually don't eat very much at all--two meals a day at the most. I'm very conscious about what I eat. I only eat high protein, natural fats and complex carbohydrates (except for juice which has simple sugars). Also, as I've explained in past posts I've been walking several miles every day for over a year. I must have a slow metabolism or something, although I am quite strong and can handle quite a bit of exercise each day. My impression is that maybe someone of my physical type is more suited for hard travel of this sort. Maybe if I was a thinner, less stocky person I would be actually harming myself by doing what I'm doing. Thankfully I don't seem to be ill-effected by all this exertion. My only issues in these last few days were a little mental confusion from lack of sleep and the stress of not knowing what the hell I was gonna do to get back into the human race.
There are some other chronic health issues that I deal with too, but I won't bore you with them. And very frankly, it appears that the high amount of exercise I get has done nothing but good for these other problems. I am on no medications. I don't drink. I don't smoke cigarettes and even Cannabis has been off the menu for many months now (unfortunately). Besides the last item, I don't miss any of these other things.
I made my sandwiches and ate them as I walked back to the park. I found a good spot and when I was done laid down with my head on my rolled up sleeping bag as a pillow. I couldn't bear to detach it from the backpack after all the work my sister and I went in to getting it on there. The irony that I was carrying around a 20 pound sleeping bag that I refused to use for the purpose of sleeping in was not lost on me. And that irony would play into my decisions for the next few days. Besides, I thought it would look pretty strange for folks visiting the park to have some dude in a sleeping bag snoring away. Certainly parents would avoid that side of the duck pond for sure. This notion - concerns about looking like a transient - also played in my mind for the next 24 hours. I'll get into that more in Day 2's post.
After a very light 2 hour snooze, I decided it was time to get moving so that I could do the rest of the day's exploring in an attempt to find a more permanent place where I might be able to spend the nights. Nighttime is the bitch. You can't rest your head anywhere or even sit. Police do not take kindly to strange visitors meandering around their town or holed-up in shadowy places. One night might work out, but the cops have a good memory and they will quickly recall the gnome with the attached sleeping bag that he doesn't use, wandering their streets.
The decision was made by the holy trinity of loneliness (being: me, myself and I) to head out to Fort Williams (for some reason I have since high school called it Fort Henry, as I did in the video above--though I have no idea why). It is a bit of a hike from South Portland (nearly 3 miles), but not as bad as the Scarborough to South Portland run, and much better than the Gorham to Scarborough run.
And so I set out on this beautifully sunny afternoon to one of Southern Maine's nicest and grassiest state parks. The rest in South Portland really helped, but about a mile into the run to Fort Williams, my feet really began to hurt. It wasn't my ankles, but the bottoms of my feet and my toes. My left foot particularly had the distinct feeling of a blister developing under the tough skin of the heel. Everyone knows that feeling. Whether you've been shoveling snow or raking leaves and a finger gets rubbed raw, or, say, walking many miles irritating the feet, the feeling is unmistakable. My sleep-deprived and somewhat panicky mind wondered what would happen if in fact I could NOT walk any more because of an abscess or something. I just needed more rest. That was the key. And I was really depending on Fort Williams itself to be that place of rest. I knew there plenty of little areas where I might be able to spend the night.
When I finally arrived, the sun was low in the sky. I made my way to the ocean edge, where I shot the video above. There were families all around and tourists stumbling over the large round stones that filled the beach. I was a little disappointed to hear how many people were arguing with each other. One mother was screaming at her very young daughter, "You're gonna pay for that, missy!" Another couple was yelling at each other across the parking lot so that everyone ended up being spectators to their issue; it was something important like forgetting the Diet Pepsi.
An ironic sign read "Swim at Own Risk" (seen to the right, behind me in the video). I had to chuckle at that. No one in their right mind would swim in that surf and be pounded against those rocks. Even in mid summer the water would be chilllllyyy. And because I was not quite in my right mind, the water DID look inviting.
There was a cold breeze that blew up from the water. The grass of the large field away from the beach was VERY luscious and green already. And the nice thing about this time of year is the lack of insects (though the black flies are just getting started). I could imagine sleeping in that field on a soft bed of grass. In this fantasy I would have plenty of time to detach my sleeping bag and reattach it in the morning. But, it was not to be. The police made more and more frequent drive-throughs around the perimeter of the park. It was becoming obvious that there would be no rest there. I read the sign and it said nothing about not camping. Still, I definitely felt that it might be a mistake. Now I wonder if I was wrong and have not had the chance yet to look it up on the web. But at the time I went with my instincts to leave. As I say in the video the plan was to rest as long as possible and then make my way back to Portland over night. It wasn't until I was halfway back to South Portland that I realized I didn't need to go all the way to Portland since there was a bank branch right in South Portland.
By the time I got all the way back to South Portland, the temps were dropping fast. I felt like I hadn't been indoors for a year. I was weather-beaten and truly becoming exhausted. My feet felt as though they were going to fall off and I'd just be walking on my shin bones. By 7:30 the sun was shooting its last shards of light through the distant hilltops of Portland, across the bay...then darkness descended.
I loitered at Hannaford Supermarket as long as I could, until at 9:00 they closed up and it was time for me to find a nook somewhere in South Portland, preferably, I thought, near my sister's house.
The reason why I wasn't staying with her inside the house is because she is very busy with two kids and a daycare business. I didn't (and still don't) want to disturb her routine or her life. And I want to avoid the probing questions of her two brilliant little kiddos, like, "Uncle Chuck...[their name for me]...why are you sleeping here? Where are your kitties?" etc... It isn't that THEY bother me. It is more that I can't even answer those questions for myself yet, and so I will try to avoid answering them from the kids as long as possible.
On my way from my sister's house earlier in the day, I had noticed that the tennis courts of the high school were located beyond a sharp grassy drop-off. I walked by them now at night and saw that if I were to venture over the edge of this drop-off, I might be able to be shielded from the view of traffic in both directions. I found a dark spot that wasn't directly across from any houses and rushed over the edge. It wasn't bad. I was fairly well shielded. I decided not to get the sleeping bag out just in case I had to beat a hasty retreat.
There on the grassy hill I listened to NPR's American Roots on my ipod radio and rested. I began to slip in and out of sleep. It seemed this was going to work. Then suddenly I heard the gravel sound of tires and looked up to see headlights beaming across the void above me. I hadn't taken into account that someone might pull into the parking lot. Worst of all was that I could tell it was a police car. I debated whether to get up and walk away while his/her light shone-out or whether to just lay there and pretend to be asleep should the officer decide to get out of the car and walk over the edge. She/he couldn't see me yet. I decide the best course of action was to just remain still and wait.
After some time the lights went off, with only the parking lights on now. I carefully grabbed up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. I plotted out a course that would allow me to get back up to the street gradually. Apparently he/she never saw me, because I got back up to the street and continued on to my sister's place. In desperation, and starting to feel defeated, I figured I would just sleep between her minivan and the garage wall outside for the rest of the night. She was already in bed and it was quite late.
Then it occurred to me that I could just sleep in the passenger's seat of the minivan. It would be warm and dry and I could tip the seat back so that the neighbors wouldn't freak out. Slowly, carefully I crept the door open and climbed in. I took the sleeping bag off my back pack and crawled into it while reclining in the seat. Finally, I felt secure and able to really try to sleep. I slipped my radio ipod back on just in time to hear the following special announcement: "We have just received word that Osama bin Laden has been killed at a compound in Pakistan, more in a moment..." THAT was when I knew my fortune was about to change. I didn't know how, but in some way I believed that things were going to begin to swing up again.
Astoundingly, it had only been 24 hours since I left my apartment on the crazy bike trip the night before...and over that entire time I had journeyed 25 miles total. That was the most I've ever traveled without a vehicle. And only about 3 of those mile was by bicycle.
By the time I reached the border of South Portland it was just easier to push the bike. Traffic was very heavy too, and that section of Route 1/9 has hardly any break-down lane. Things were feeling a bit unsafe. The sun was really beating down now and though I had left my hat out to bring, somehow I had forgotten it. And here's a weird thing that happened: I was working so hard to keep the bike on the road pushing it without getting hit by cars that my eyes began to tear. But it was more like sweat. It was like I was sweating around my eyes. This is something I'd never experience before. I had to constantly stop and use my sleeve to dry my eyes.
After what seemed like an eternity I finally reached my sister's house and set about ditching the bike in her garage and consolidating only the useful items. She came out and was very helpful finding a way to secure my sleeping bag under the backpack. After several failed attempts we got that sucker on there. I have a regular backpack, not a hiker's pack, so there just aren't enough hooks and straps. But we did it anyway. And before long I was back on the road. As I stated in my last post, the idea now was to find a good place to sleep. I headed down to Mill Creek Park in downtown South Portland.
Mill Creek is a nice little place. It has a small pond that is always populated with ducks and the ever-present, squawking, screaming seagulls. I sat for a long time on a bench just resting and eating some nuts and seeds my sister gave me (which were very satisfying by the way), I decided to spend my last $3 on a meal that would get me through to the next day - Monday - when I'd be able to withdraw some money from my bank. I had brought with me two whole wheat hamburger buns. I walked over to Hannaford Supermarket and was able to find a package of four pieces of ham for $0.99 and a half gallon on pomegranate-lemonade for $1.29. I was in business!
Though I look a little bit like a bald, pudgy, gnome, I actually don't eat very much at all--two meals a day at the most. I'm very conscious about what I eat. I only eat high protein, natural fats and complex carbohydrates (except for juice which has simple sugars). Also, as I've explained in past posts I've been walking several miles every day for over a year. I must have a slow metabolism or something, although I am quite strong and can handle quite a bit of exercise each day. My impression is that maybe someone of my physical type is more suited for hard travel of this sort. Maybe if I was a thinner, less stocky person I would be actually harming myself by doing what I'm doing. Thankfully I don't seem to be ill-effected by all this exertion. My only issues in these last few days were a little mental confusion from lack of sleep and the stress of not knowing what the hell I was gonna do to get back into the human race.
There are some other chronic health issues that I deal with too, but I won't bore you with them. And very frankly, it appears that the high amount of exercise I get has done nothing but good for these other problems. I am on no medications. I don't drink. I don't smoke cigarettes and even Cannabis has been off the menu for many months now (unfortunately). Besides the last item, I don't miss any of these other things.
I made my sandwiches and ate them as I walked back to the park. I found a good spot and when I was done laid down with my head on my rolled up sleeping bag as a pillow. I couldn't bear to detach it from the backpack after all the work my sister and I went in to getting it on there. The irony that I was carrying around a 20 pound sleeping bag that I refused to use for the purpose of sleeping in was not lost on me. And that irony would play into my decisions for the next few days. Besides, I thought it would look pretty strange for folks visiting the park to have some dude in a sleeping bag snoring away. Certainly parents would avoid that side of the duck pond for sure. This notion - concerns about looking like a transient - also played in my mind for the next 24 hours. I'll get into that more in Day 2's post.
After a very light 2 hour snooze, I decided it was time to get moving so that I could do the rest of the day's exploring in an attempt to find a more permanent place where I might be able to spend the nights. Nighttime is the bitch. You can't rest your head anywhere or even sit. Police do not take kindly to strange visitors meandering around their town or holed-up in shadowy places. One night might work out, but the cops have a good memory and they will quickly recall the gnome with the attached sleeping bag that he doesn't use, wandering their streets.
The decision was made by the holy trinity of loneliness (being: me, myself and I) to head out to Fort Williams (for some reason I have since high school called it Fort Henry, as I did in the video above--though I have no idea why). It is a bit of a hike from South Portland (nearly 3 miles), but not as bad as the Scarborough to South Portland run, and much better than the Gorham to Scarborough run.
Here is a map of the afternoon journey...
The pink dot at the top left is Mill Creek Park
and the pink dot at the bottom right was my destination, Fort Williams.
I traveled along Cottage and then Shore.
And so I set out on this beautifully sunny afternoon to one of Southern Maine's nicest and grassiest state parks. The rest in South Portland really helped, but about a mile into the run to Fort Williams, my feet really began to hurt. It wasn't my ankles, but the bottoms of my feet and my toes. My left foot particularly had the distinct feeling of a blister developing under the tough skin of the heel. Everyone knows that feeling. Whether you've been shoveling snow or raking leaves and a finger gets rubbed raw, or, say, walking many miles irritating the feet, the feeling is unmistakable. My sleep-deprived and somewhat panicky mind wondered what would happen if in fact I could NOT walk any more because of an abscess or something. I just needed more rest. That was the key. And I was really depending on Fort Williams itself to be that place of rest. I knew there plenty of little areas where I might be able to spend the night.
When I finally arrived, the sun was low in the sky. I made my way to the ocean edge, where I shot the video above. There were families all around and tourists stumbling over the large round stones that filled the beach. I was a little disappointed to hear how many people were arguing with each other. One mother was screaming at her very young daughter, "You're gonna pay for that, missy!" Another couple was yelling at each other across the parking lot so that everyone ended up being spectators to their issue; it was something important like forgetting the Diet Pepsi.
An ironic sign read "Swim at Own Risk" (seen to the right, behind me in the video). I had to chuckle at that. No one in their right mind would swim in that surf and be pounded against those rocks. Even in mid summer the water would be chilllllyyy. And because I was not quite in my right mind, the water DID look inviting.
There was a cold breeze that blew up from the water. The grass of the large field away from the beach was VERY luscious and green already. And the nice thing about this time of year is the lack of insects (though the black flies are just getting started). I could imagine sleeping in that field on a soft bed of grass. In this fantasy I would have plenty of time to detach my sleeping bag and reattach it in the morning. But, it was not to be. The police made more and more frequent drive-throughs around the perimeter of the park. It was becoming obvious that there would be no rest there. I read the sign and it said nothing about not camping. Still, I definitely felt that it might be a mistake. Now I wonder if I was wrong and have not had the chance yet to look it up on the web. But at the time I went with my instincts to leave. As I say in the video the plan was to rest as long as possible and then make my way back to Portland over night. It wasn't until I was halfway back to South Portland that I realized I didn't need to go all the way to Portland since there was a bank branch right in South Portland.
By the time I got all the way back to South Portland, the temps were dropping fast. I felt like I hadn't been indoors for a year. I was weather-beaten and truly becoming exhausted. My feet felt as though they were going to fall off and I'd just be walking on my shin bones. By 7:30 the sun was shooting its last shards of light through the distant hilltops of Portland, across the bay...then darkness descended.
I loitered at Hannaford Supermarket as long as I could, until at 9:00 they closed up and it was time for me to find a nook somewhere in South Portland, preferably, I thought, near my sister's house.
The reason why I wasn't staying with her inside the house is because she is very busy with two kids and a daycare business. I didn't (and still don't) want to disturb her routine or her life. And I want to avoid the probing questions of her two brilliant little kiddos, like, "Uncle Chuck...[their name for me]...why are you sleeping here? Where are your kitties?" etc... It isn't that THEY bother me. It is more that I can't even answer those questions for myself yet, and so I will try to avoid answering them from the kids as long as possible.
On my way from my sister's house earlier in the day, I had noticed that the tennis courts of the high school were located beyond a sharp grassy drop-off. I walked by them now at night and saw that if I were to venture over the edge of this drop-off, I might be able to be shielded from the view of traffic in both directions. I found a dark spot that wasn't directly across from any houses and rushed over the edge. It wasn't bad. I was fairly well shielded. I decided not to get the sleeping bag out just in case I had to beat a hasty retreat.
There on the grassy hill I listened to NPR's American Roots on my ipod radio and rested. I began to slip in and out of sleep. It seemed this was going to work. Then suddenly I heard the gravel sound of tires and looked up to see headlights beaming across the void above me. I hadn't taken into account that someone might pull into the parking lot. Worst of all was that I could tell it was a police car. I debated whether to get up and walk away while his/her light shone-out or whether to just lay there and pretend to be asleep should the officer decide to get out of the car and walk over the edge. She/he couldn't see me yet. I decide the best course of action was to just remain still and wait.
After some time the lights went off, with only the parking lights on now. I carefully grabbed up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. I plotted out a course that would allow me to get back up to the street gradually. Apparently he/she never saw me, because I got back up to the street and continued on to my sister's place. In desperation, and starting to feel defeated, I figured I would just sleep between her minivan and the garage wall outside for the rest of the night. She was already in bed and it was quite late.
Then it occurred to me that I could just sleep in the passenger's seat of the minivan. It would be warm and dry and I could tip the seat back so that the neighbors wouldn't freak out. Slowly, carefully I crept the door open and climbed in. I took the sleeping bag off my back pack and crawled into it while reclining in the seat. Finally, I felt secure and able to really try to sleep. I slipped my radio ipod back on just in time to hear the following special announcement: "We have just received word that Osama bin Laden has been killed at a compound in Pakistan, more in a moment..." THAT was when I knew my fortune was about to change. I didn't know how, but in some way I believed that things were going to begin to swing up again.
Astoundingly, it had only been 24 hours since I left my apartment on the crazy bike trip the night before...and over that entire time I had journeyed 25 miles total. That was the most I've ever traveled without a vehicle. And only about 3 of those mile was by bicycle.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.