The early morning walk through the downtown of Stratford was quite pleasant. I got used to the chill of the air, and the low temperature made carrying such a heavy pack much more comfortable. When I'd reached the stretch of road leading out toward the shoreline I took a rest across from a monument...
Here's the pack, reduced in size down to about 50 pounds.
You can see the new Camelbak and rolled up raincoat from the Protector, Jeff,
the little towel I sleep on, my new camouflage blanket and, of course, the tarp on top.
The war monument.
Route 113 was long and straight leading out of town. The signs said I was heading toward Route 1, which was my goal. I came across a strip mall with a Dunkin Donuts at the far edge, overlooking Frash Pond. It was so far from the road that I was worried I might forget which way I'd come after buying my coffee there. But, I memorized the layout of the buildings and had my trusty walking stick compass just in case.
The sun was just coming up when I walked into the store. I bought the coffee and did some writing while also getting online to talk with people at Facebook. I asked for advice about getting glasses on the cheap. People gave a lot of ideas, but basically it all added up to about the same amount of money I thought I'd have to spend anyway. That is one of the most frustrating things about asking for advice at Facebook (something rare for me). They mostly tell me what I already know. It was all good though.
I checked out Google Maps for the best way into and through Bridgeport. I saw that 113 went way out and around the airport and a marsh in Stratford, then double backed on itself in a 3/4 circle, thence leading over Johnson's Creek into Bridgeport.
What I should have done (had I seen it at the time) was take a right onto Access Road. It would have been a one mile walk to the other part of 113. Instead, I thought I had to take 113 the whole way. This added three extra miles to the hike. I was not yet very good at navigation from the street and not having glasses was a constant frustration.
There were other complications too. If I ran into an unmarked intersection I just had to guess which way was correct. There was no end to guessing the wrong direction about 20% of the time before I finally got through Bridgeport. And, as we'll see, it made for a very long day indeed...
I kept finding little birds dead on the side of the road. I have no idea why.
I was fortunate to be stuck walking around a very scenic area. The neighborhoods were in a good location. Residents could easily make it out to the marsh for a nice walk, or put their boats in at nearby landings. As would happen many times in the next few months, I often wished I had just a little extra money to hang out in interesting areas. Here, it would have been nice to explore the shoreline. But, alas... That was not in the cards. Here is a quick view of the marsh as seen from Route 113, where the road finally straightened out again...
The click of the stick.
It was about 1:00 pm when I caught a glimpse of Johnson's Creek up ahead. There was a Dunkin Donuts less than a half mile before it, so I went in for some lunch and to get online again. I really took every possible opportunity to double check my route in these early days.
I had a funny feeling in my gut, having come so far from Boston. You might identify with what I call the "flavor of memories"? Anytime I look back and remember the way things were at a previous time, there is a certain flavor to the feeling I get. On this day, sitting in Dunkin Donuts, all the music I would hear on the pop stations seemed to stick with me as the soundtrack for the whole November walk. Naturally, these were the popular songs of this year, and I would hear them over and over again. Particularly, there was one song, Boom Clap, by Charli XCX, which exemplified this. That song still brings back all the images of my time before the Midwest. Funny to related this unusual musical appreciation, as a 46 year old man who doesn't really even like pop music! Nevertheless...
With that song playing in the background, I left just before 3:00 pm, heading west, across the parking lot and back onto Route 113...
Not the image of your typical pop music listener.
After passing over the creek and under the I-95 bridge into Bridgeport, I took an immediate left onto Orange Street, figuring that if I followed a frontage road beside 95 I would run into Route 1. But Orange ended at a perpendicular street that crossed it, called Newfield Avenue. I should have taken a left. But, fifty/fifty being what it was, I chose to go right until I got to Stratford Avenue, then took a left again, hoping it would rejoin a street that would run along 95. Then, Stratford passed under 95 and I was headed west again. Things looked pretty good for a while, until I reached the Enterprise Zone part of town...
Falling down buildings, with holes in the roofs, where people were actually living (or trying to live) were standing on either side of me. Little kids were playing in puddles with that rainbow hue of gasoline slicked across their surfaces. Half pint liquor bottles lay every ten feet among all the other trash.
The only color and beauty to be found was the grand and elaborate graffiti everywhere. Strangely, there was no conflict to be seen. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing even if they were doing nothing. Homeless people wandered aimlessly, hopelessly. Other people - the owners of small run down stores and people hanging out on the sidewalks talking - completed this scene.
I must've been a sight to behold; the only white face in the whole area, weighted down with 50 pounds of crap on my back, clicking along the street with my walking stick. I wanted to take pictures, but I was unsure how these folks would deal with that, and I kept thinking that Route 1 would be around the next corner. Admittedly, after about 2 hours of this, I gave up searching on my own. A McDonald's I ran into got me back on track with their WiFi, and my subsequent review of Google Maps. As I sat there, I felt awful about the conditions I'd just walked through.
What is it about the human species that destroys its own environment and then expects its sisters and brothers to live in the ruins? No other animal does that. The suffering is so acute in places like those I saw on this day, that it is no longer appreciated by its sufferers as unusual. That breaks my heart.
Pavlov (in his own kind of sick fascination) found that dogs forced to stand on an electrified floor would fight to escape, cry and whine in desperation, but eventually they would give up, accept their lot, then lie down and just take it.
How much more despicable is it for humans who continuously suffer, destitute in their poverty? They feel that the only escape is by enduring the pain, in the careless wake of indifference that society has foisted upon them. They give up on their dreams and simply...lie down.
This has to end. One BILLION people (1/7th of the human population) on this planet go to sleep each night without having enough to eat. Many of them are children.
In this rich, sometimes-arrogant, and mostly-ignorant, country of ours, hundreds of thousands of people swim in a sea of squalor and filth. I was the lucky one. I was only passing through it. I can stand next to them, because it is what I (to some extent) choose to do. But they (most of them) are without that choice.
I'm sick of the attitude that consigns these problems to "laziness," "racial inferiority," or the stupid belief that "some must suffer so that others may prosper." None of it is true. NONE.
We could feed, clothe and house those who are not able to adequately survive in this society. We have the money, we have the technology, but we have not the Will. It time to try though--past time. There are no lost causes. There should be no lost people. My human Protector's wife shared her Buddhist wisdom with me by saying: "We are all One." Simple.
When did we forget?
What event distracted us?
I am fully awake now. Nothing can stop me from remembering what we are, who we are, and why we are alive, here and now, at this particular point in history.
My personal fear is wholly gone. I never feel scared anymore. The story of what I'm doing is my shield, and it cannot be pulled from me. It is permanent now and impenetrable. Whatever happens to me out here is of no concern to me anymore.
I am invisible to the hypnotized masses I see all around me. I can do anything I want now. I am liberated and have climbed out of the dark places that I was taught to hide in. The sun shines on my face. And, when I look around, I see it shines on everyone else's face--they just need to stop...and look up.
We will turn around. We will hear the song inside the sound. The greatest epoch in the human story is coming at the speed of Light. When we can each chase away or sweep away the blackened ashes of our presumptions and prejudices, we will actually LIVE in that Light instead of blocking it.
I am happy--possibly for the first time since I was a child. But, I am not satisfied yet... I have however found myself becoming more hopeful each day. There is much more adventure to come.
I need to thank you readers and friends for your friendship...your Kinship. Let's keep marching on, no matter what we face. Peace and Light are the destination, and perceiving Truth is the only pathway forward.
I couldn't believe, while looking at Google Maps at McDonald's, that I was already right on Route 1! After a break, I set out again. It was after dark now. There was something so much more comforting about nighttime. I was learning to truly appreciate just how much easier it was to walk at night. Night became my time. I ruled it for myself, because I understood its advantages.
I stopped in at a Cumberland Farms when I reached an unmarked fork in the road, right at the city limit between Bridgeport and Fairfield. I asked the young woman behind the register which way Route 1 ran. She just told me that she had no idea. I could see she didn't give a shit either. She took the next customer. It was a fifty/fifty chance again.
This time the little voice, that Spark that had been lit in Boston, painted my intuition for me. I took the left option of that fork in the road and it was the correct move for once. I was absolutely soaked with sweat and the temperature was falling quickly. I was also completely exhausted. Had I not made the wrong decision back in Stratford by taking the long way around the airport for an extra three miles--wasting an hour, and had I not gotten lost and wandered around the slums of West Bridgeport for another hour, I would have had a reasonably long walk. My body was fighting against going much further.
Ironically though, I had an ultimate sense of confidence flowing through out me. I knew, somehow, that no one could harm me. I knew, somehow, that no matter how tired I got, I would always make it just far enough to rest. I was practically giddy as I walked along the busy Route 1 highway into Fairfield.
Carefully I examined the woods beside me along the way. There was a sharp drop off. I considered trying to step over the guardrail and slide down to see if there might be a flat place below. I knew it would be dangerous, but I could not imagine that there would be any alternative. And now I really needed to stop and sleep. Then, suddenly a flat piece of ground came into view below, down near a fence by the woods. That was it!
I slid down the steep hill and settled on that flat spot, where I immediately removed my backpack and coat so that I could dry off as much as possible before hypothermia set in. And, while I waited, I made this video...
This was a pretty rough location. I was only about 15 feet from the edge of the road above me. If I set up my sleeping bag too close to the woods drivers could probably see me--not that they were looking. Still, I stuck close to the hill...
At about 11:30 I crawled into the sleeping bag and curled up my winter jacket as a pillow. I was feeling so alive, like I had never felt before. There was something to all of this; something mystical. It felt so incredibly right. I didn't know if people were picking this up too. I resolved that no matter how out of touch they became with me and my ramblings on Facebook about what I was going through, I would continue to record as much as I could about the spiritual changes I was going through by reporting about them in this blog. I fell asleep to the sound of traffic and the light of a waxing November moon...
Fairfield Sleeping Place
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