A Living Magazine - Day 9 - Downtown Napa

Rain drops fell again for a short time as I lay awake procrastinating about getting up. Finally I did and, almost on cue, the rain stopped. The sleeping bag and tarp weren't very wet, and if the pattern I was used to now, continued – that of rain in the morning and bright sun during the day – I knew I'd be able to dry everything later in the day.

My stuff was getting dirtier and dirtier, as might be expected. And, my body was beginning to do the same thing. If I was going to travel 4,000 miles on this crazy adventure, I would have to find a way to stay cleaner, and keep my stuff cleaner--and drier. 

I walked back up Lincoln Avenue toward the center of town. I passed the other guy in the field, and drew close to the fence to see if there was any sign of life. It looked like he was in the exact same position he had been the afternoon before. I cleared my throat to see if he would respond. And he did. He kind-of growled a bit. I stepped backwards on to the road and let him be. The next night though I would check on him again. I can't see how the hell he is even surviving without getting up to eat or go to the bathroom. And, I am faced with an interesting and ironic dilemma: As a fellow homeless person myself, do I hold high the sacred code of not ratting each other's sleep spots out? Or do I "out" him by calling the police, to make sure he's not sick or injured? I would think on it...  

As you have no doubt heard, California is in the midst of a very serious drought. I don't see water being wasted very often. Even restaurant guests and employees will gingerly pour their extra water over the roots of some nearby plant if they aren't going to drink it. But, occasionally I do catch an obvious waster. Quite honestly, it is usually the well-to-do; entitled by their high tax bracket to water the roadways and sidewalks, instead of their grass. I watched my "host" in Livermore waste an enormous amount of water, by leaving his sprinklers on one patch of lawn for two days and nights straight. That was intentional on his part (and illegal, by the way--carrying a $5,000 fine if caught). Such was not the case on this morning, just a broken line, but still it was disheartening to see. I stopped to take a video...

Getting back on my way, I reached 7 Eleven. The first order of business (after buying a coffee) at the store, was to find the library. I asked the kind woman behind the counter for directions, and she said she had no idea. But, then her friend walked in and she asked her. They spoke in Hindi for a second, and then the clerk told me all I had to do was follow the street that ran right beside their store—Main Street. Well now! That made sense.

I thanked them and followed their advice, ending up in the only part of town I had not yet been: down town. I'd finally made my way into the center. The library wasn't right on Main Street, but the courthouse was, and the county administrative office was. Surely, the library was not far off. I strolled around the corner on to Coombs Street where it meets Fifth Street, and there was the sign.

Again, I was way early--it was about 7:30 am. The library didn't open until 10:00. More time to kill... It was a good chance to do more exploring and take some pictures. 

Love this sign! Ya think?

One World Sculpture

I was seeing these hand prints in different colors all around town.

Look kids, a fossil!

County Seat

I didn't even know this.

Cat Cleaning

9/11 Memorial - Pieces of the North and
South Towers of the World Trade Center 

Looks like a Wall was lost...

Looked and tasted like blueberries, but they aren't.
Looking for the species... anyone know?
[Update, from a very kind Northern California reader:
"Mahonia aquifolium, or Oregon Grape, aka Oregon Grape Holly".]

True Morning Glory - Ipomoea tricolor 

Three Ravens in Town - One Will be Seen Later

The "Wave Bench"

A View of the River

Sculpture made from an old culvert.

Interesting idea for river bank support.

Immature Figs

More Reflectivity

So this is what an artichoke flower looks like.

The grapes are starting to ripen.

The grid-like layout of the town was a blessing, compared to some places I'd been. Each street terminated in an “End” sign. This was really good, because sometimes I can't tell if streets turn at a right angle and continue. Often, this convolution is unmarked. Lost drivers have little problem, because they can simply take the 30 seconds needed to reach another intersection and then see more street signs. When one is walking at 3 mph, the space between signs can spell confusion, especially if side streets are involved as a distraction.

Though I always do my best to plan things out in my navigational efforts, I seem to miss at least one major detail that would be helpful. This characterized the first crossing as well. I am getting better at it, but it is a painfully slow process. Another person with more common sense would have an easier time, perhaps. Some common sense is inherited, and sometimes – apparently – it must be earned by being learned.

Nevertheless, I was doing OK in Napa. I was doing better in general on this new journey. Using the sun to navigate makes things go relatively smoothly. It is only when that golden orb is lost behind clouds that I begin to falter, and need to rely on my compass and screen shots of Google Maps.

I found my way back to the library about 10 minutes before it opened. Outside was one of the three Ravens I'd seen down town. He looked like he couldn't fly and something might be wrong with his left leg. He just sat there squawking at his buddies who were camped out in a tree nearby. He happened to be on a kid's bicycle tire... 

The Raven - I named him Edgar. 

The young man came out to check on his bike and we talked for a little while about the raven and other things. His name was Skyler, and he was a very intelligent and interesting guy. He lives here in Napa and he even has a band with a girl his age. He sings and she plays guitar. I asked him if they write their own music. He said they did, and they have an album coming out in December.  

Skyler - Musician, Scholar and Napa Native

We examined the raven up close. The bird wasn't afraid of us at all. The only thing he seemed concerned with was keeping in vocal touch with his two companions, who constantly swooped around calling him to join them. He would look up at them, squawk, and then move his wings like a kind of sign language to show them that he couldn't fly.

The Corvidae family of birds (which includes: "crows, ravens, jackdaws, jays, nutcrackers, magpies, choughs, treepies and others"), are the smartest birds in the world. Ravens communicate in complex vocal sounds and gestures. They use tools, and can figure out how to open and adjust things to get food. They have even been known to simply play with objects and genuinely just have fun.

Edgar was not having fun on this day, though he became very popular the longer he stuck around the library. I thought it strange that he had ended up there with me, after I'd seen him earlier in the morning, and in a different location. 

The library opened up and I found a terrific space to work all day. The building was clean, modern and comfortable. I was able to complete the last two posts there, and am writing this one there as well. 

Around noon, I took a break and went outside to see how Edgar was faring. Somehow, he'd made his way across the street to a white picket fence at the edge of someone's yard. Two teenagers walked over and made an iPhone video of him. One of them reached out and got him to climb on his hand. Edgar didn't mind this much, but had a hard time standing up, so the kid put him back down.

Soon afterward some older folks approached and decided to call animal control to see if Edgar could be helped to fly again. I thought this was nice, but it was kind of sad to know that his two buddies in the trees above might never see him again...

Edgar - We may see him... Nevermore

Such are the ways of nature--animal and human. We do our best to keep up, but when we stumble, when we become separated, whether by choice or involuntarily--when we become different, our friends may stick around for a little while, trying to fit us back into their world. However, eventually, when the gulf has grown and the understanding (read as conformity?) that once existed is dissolved, the one who is alone... stays alone. And, the group moves on, eventually forgetting those who were lost...

That theme of being left behind by the world stuck in my head all day. After I was done working at the library I headed back toward my sleep spot on Lincoln Avenue. I needed something to eat, so I used a Coinstar machine at the Lucky (a chain of western grocery stores), and then went to Subway. I have settled on their sandwiches for being the healthiest and most reasonably priced of all the "fast" food places. For a foot long sandwich, loaded with veggies, meat and cheese, with a bag of chips, it is only $6.50. I eat one half and save the other half for the next day. That's only $3.25 per meal (or per day, if you only eat once a day).

As I waited for traffic to clear before heading into my field of dreams (ha!), I watched an unfortunate man on the other side of the road, walking very slowly. He was downcast, I could intuit that he was desperately sad, perhaps completely without hope. He was a big guy, had a backpack on, and would not turn his gaze from the hard ground upon which he trod. I have a very well-developed sense about the emotional or psychological disposition of people I see. And, I myself looked down at the sidewalk, putting myself in his shoes...  

Suddenly, I heard a BANG...BANG...BANG... I looked up and saw that he was standing in front of a construction sign, slamming his forehead into it repeatedly. I pulled my backpack on and crept toward his side of the road. Tentatively, I crossed over to the other side as he went around a corner. I walked faster trying to catch up to him, but he was too far away. When I rounded the same corner, he had completely disappeared into the darkness. Not every person can be helped... Some people are already dead. they have the Spark still, imprisoned within their human minds. But, their soul is already gone...

The next day I would find some refreshing relief and begin looking into a way to get through the rest of California more quickly. It is time to go to Oregon...

A Living Magazine - Day 8 - Big Valley Walk

I woke up to the pitter patter of light rain on the edges of my tarp. I was able to sleep and extra hour, until 6:00 am. I knew a long walk was ahead and I was actually looking forward to it. I had about 20 miles to cover in order to get to Napa. that meant about 7 hours.

After packing up, I stepped down into the parking lot where I had stopped the night before. And, I had to laugh at the message I hadn't seen on the wine tanker truck in the dark...

Love it!

I got on the very busy highway and began my trip to Napa. I really wanted a coffee but was running out of money. The only place for the next 20 miles was the Fremont Diner, a neat little place with every table filled.

Crappy Coffee, Cool Logo

I ordered a coffee to go and the woman said, "OK, that'll be $2.71. I'll be right back when it's prepared." Now I know many of you are used to a $5.00 joe at Starbucks or wherever. But, I'm a 7 Eleven kind of connoisseur. It's a $1.29 there, and it's good, dark, rich and tasty stuff. I had exactly $10 left to my name; well, now $7.29.

I paced around the parking lot wondering how large this cup would be. After 5 excruciating minutes, she brought out a tiny 8 oz cup. With the typical fake enthusiasm of a person who knows she is ripping me off, she said "Enjoy!!"

I reached out for it and asked, "$2.71, huh?"

She replied with, "It's good coffee!"

I just grinned widely with my own fake enthusiasm and said, "It better be." I added some cream and sugar, and then took a sip. It was the weakest, shittiest coffee I'd ever had. It didn't even taste like coffee. It was more like lukewarm lake water. I growled and looked back at the diner. Then came one of those choices: Do I ruin her day or do I just literally suck it up? I swallowed my pride and irritation, and like a good doobie, I chose the latter.

Back on the road with my over-priced lake water, I began to hit my stride. The traffic was very busy with Sunday drivers and tourists out to explore wine country. For the first 5 miles there were no shoulders, and actually, no break-down lane either.

Try to hitchhike on this road!

It was touch and go at some points. And, California drivers don't seem to have the foggiest clue about what to do when approaching a hiker. They slow down; they swerve at the last second; they act confused. Whenever there was a long line of traffic coming toward me and one car would move far out of the way (as he should be doing), I'd give the peace sign, and then - having seen how to do it correctly - like magic, all the cars behind him would follow suit. It was like herding cars.

When I needed a break from all the death defying, I found a little extra piece of pavement and took this shot of the edge of the Napa Valley...

Can't Beat the View

I kept seeing honey bees dying on the side of the road. Presumably this was from collisions with cars?...

Poor Bee

Finally, a wide break down lane emerged. But still, it can look intimidating, although I'm so used to it now that I have no fear anymore...

The Joys of Oncoming Traffic

Somehow signs can become iconic after I've seen them enough times. So, here is one picture that I can keep as a reminder of this phenomenon...

There are always plenty of plants to look at and classify as I pass by them. It is a way to kill the time and sharpen my identification skills. Here is a beautiful and healthy specimen of the plant I've spoken about here several times now...

Wild Fennel Plant

Winding up the longest part of this trip, I came across domestic grapes that had made their way outside the confines of a vineyard...

Domestic grape vine breaking out on its own.

Bunch of Immature Grapes - Super-sour

I "got off" at the first exit I saw to buy some water and some peanuts for energy. I also took the opportunity to dry out the sleeping bag, backpack, jacket and tarp. It had to be done, or they would mildew and mold. Ultraviolet rays from the sun and the high temperature that sunlight raises the material to, also kill a lot of stinky bacteria.

The curious and somewhat leering Pakistani store owner came out and stood by the grass staring at me. I think he imagined I would be setting up camp there in his parking lot, and looked relieved when I packed it all up again and walked away...with a little wink at him.

Going back to the on ramp of the highway, I saw a great little spot to go and rest for awhile...

Having a Rest

After my rest, and right as I walked back out onto the highway, I saw squished fruit on the ground. Yes! I looked up and sure enough, there was a tree with the tiny sweet plums I've grown to like so much (in moderation, ha!)...

Who knew plums could be as small as cherries?

[Sorry about the focus]

When I arrived at the First Street exit of Route 121/12, I had to choose whether to go left or right to get downtown. As with many places I've been to, signs are woefully lacking. But I chose correctly for once and entered the outskirts of the town of Napa. I must have walked 5 additional miles just working my way in toward the center, finally finding it.

Locating all my favorite - or most useful - places (McDonald's, Walmart, Subway, the local library, parks and bike paths etc.) would have to wait until the next day. My laptop had run out of juice the day before, and there was no place to plug it in. Unlike the East Coast and Midwest, (and except for expensive coffee shops and cafes) restaurants in the Southwest and California do not provide outlets for Wi-Fi users. Sometimes I can find a soda machine near a grocery store and sneak my laptop's AC adapter into its outlet. But no luck on this day. Besides, I was exhausted.

My one and only mission at this point was to find a sleeping place. As I have just spoken about in the last two posts, I'm going back to letting my intuition (the Spark) do the leading. I simply walked until I felt like a street or direction was right, and then followed it. Sure enough, I happened upon Lincoln Ave, and looked down to see this...

Now, I'm not superstitious at all, but I took it as sign, having just dreamed about the word (which is also the name of my publishing company). This Omega is a very well-known sidewalk contractor around here, and I'd seen the logo a thousand times, but this one seemed to be a message, from me to me: Wallk this way!

Eventually, near the end of Lincoln Avenue I saw yet another field. This one had no signs and the fence was broken at the end where I stood. It was a great place for sleeping. Interestingly, for the first time since I began doing these journeys, someone else was in my sleepy field! Another homeless guy found a sweet spot behind a small grove of trees. I could see his gray, messed-up hair sticking out of his sleeping bag. He didn't move at all, as I observed him from the road, through the fence. He would stay there all evening, all night and into the next morning when I left to walk back down town. I actually began to be concerned for him. Honestly? I thought he might be dead.

I still had a couple hours until the sun went down, so I decided to explore for a "Site B." Only 20 feet away, I found a 1.5 mile river path. I entered it and walked along, checking out the edges for alternate sleeping spots. Though the signs said, "Please stay on the path," it was obvious that hundreds of people had diverged and made a labyrinth of twisting hidden trails all along the path. A few were kind of creepy.  One had a blue tent-like tarp covering "something" up. I didn't check under it. At another location there was a small pebble beach that was right along the river.

I climbed down the steep bank to check it out. In the corner of the beach, near a clump of small fallen trees was an old nest left by some other ragged soul. It looked uncomfortable, filled up with old dirty pillows, stained blankets, a large bottle of Jergens body lotion (?) and container of chewable Tums. My own stomach was turning a bit, imagining what person could possibly sleep in such a disgusting nest. But... Everyone has different standards I guess? People laugh at me for what I am willing to put up with too.

It looked like the area had not been used in a while. But it was hard to gauge. Here in California, the lack of weathering on objects can be deceptive. Regardless, I made a mental note about being able to have direct access to the river, so that I might be able to wash up there the next day.

The sun was going down and it was time to head back up to my shared field, and saw this funny piece of paper at the base of a holly tree...

Ha, ha!!

All in all, it was a very productive day. I walked well over 25 miles. I was getting used to not eating very much again, since I had now run out of cash, except for coins. I had my sleep spot for the night - and maybe several nights, since I might stay here until I receive my hiking boots. And, it was a really great little town, despite being very large in square mileage. It was laid out well and easy even for ME to understand.

The next day would have a bit more happening, but this day was a success. I was in Napa! 

Napa Sleep Spot.

A Living Magazine - Day 7 - Ancient Future

My second morning in Santa Rosa started with a large raven squawking out his arrival. The wake-up theme of the last couple weeks has been bird based. First it was the mocking bird in Livermore and now ravens (who will show up time and again in the next couple days).

I packed up and repeated the walk from the day before down town; this time to catch a bus. The sky was overcast and this would represent another pattern. In the North Bay region (the towns north of San Francisco) it is cloudy each morning, much more humid than the tri valley region, but always seems to revert to blue skies and sunlight by noon.

My mind was at ease. The thinking and pacing from the night before dissolved my anxiety. I was strong again and unresponsive to the demons of doubt and disappointment. My objective now with this work was to just do it, and let the people fall in or out of it by their own choice, uninfluenced by my calls for support. I will still ask for donations, but I will do this thing even without them. It was time to reclaim my personal dignity and just get to work.

I studied the Sonoma County Transit schedule. It was just as illogical and confusing as every city's bus schedule had been. I've found that if I am just patient and read everything about 3 times carefully I can get the idea. This day was no different. I concluded that in order to get to the town of Sonoma, I would have to take Bus 30, at 7:40 am, traveling east for 70 minutes on Route 12, and it would cost $3.05. Now there was an hour to kill.

I bought a coffee and walked around some of the streets I hadn't seen yet. I saw this on one of the bridges...

I found it interesting that so many people write funny philosophical passages on public structures. Noticing that I only had 10 minutes left until my bus arrived, and that I was a good 15 minutes from the Transit Mall, it was time to pour on the heat. I rushed as fast as could without looking like more of a fool that I usually do.

I was wearing my new thick cotton jacket/shirt and could feel the heat between my back and the backpack, forcing sweat into the jacket. When I got to the Transit Center the bus hadn't arrived yet. I put my pack on the ground and rested, trying to dry off. Within 5 minutes the bus came rolling in. There were only 3 of us boarding at this time. The bus driver was very nice, and asked how each person was as they paid.

I sat near the back...

 

Waiting to leave on the Number 30 Bus to Sonoma.

I love to ride the bus. It is certainly one of my top 5 most relaxing things to do. In no time, we were off and chugging down the streets on our way to Sonoma's main plaza. Almost immediately, as I watched out the window, the land changed from natural green everywhere back to the blonde-colored hills and gravelly sands that characterized a NorCal "valley" region. But there was a strange mixed landscape media. It was a little bit of Livermore and a little bit of San Francisco.

The bus rolled along, and I could feel myself wanting to nod off. I'd gotten a good amount asleep again that last night, but my body could have handled more. Before I gave in to the sleepy feeling, we were there. I was very pleased to see the library as we drove one block beyond it and pulled over. I deboarded and stepped out into a beautiful day. The overcast was gone. For once I knew exactly how to get to the library in this new town. I walked up one block and there it was...

I waited a couple of hours for the library to open. When I walked in, I saw that a group of chairs had been set up - I assumed - for a lecture. I worked for a few hours and then right after noontime I saw a gentleman come in and start setting up a small PA system. I didn't pay him much attention.

Around 1:30 pm another man came in. I heard the two discussing things. The first guy, whom I would learn was Matthew Montford--a famous musician in world music circles, pulled out an interesting guitar. It was a regular acoustic instrument, but in between the frets the fretboard had been sanded down ("scalloped") so that the strings would never vibrate against it. The second guy removed two sets of tablas (one in the key of D and one in the key of E) and proceeded to set them up on a table with pillows for him to sit on behind them. People started filing into the library. And, I learned that the name of the group was Ancient Future.

I was very excited that I'd happened up this scene. I LOVE Indian classical music and world fusion, and have listened to these for many years. I recalled hearing an old radio program on MPBN - the local public radio station in Maine - when I lived in Gorham, called "Echoes." The show had a feature that was called "A Living Room Concert" every couple of weeks, profiling space, ambient and world music groups who would play live at one of their houses. And, one of Matthew's Ancient Future past incarnations (consisting of several players) was once featured on that show. 

The head librarian introduced the duo and they stepped in front of the audience and sat down... 

The librarian had mispronounced their name, calling them "Ancient Futures." Apparently this had happened before. I returned to my seat and listened to Matthew describe who they were and what they played. He joked that "Ancient Futures" was an archaic investment scheme that wasn't available anymore, but that they'd continue receiving funds for it, if the audience wanted. Everyone laughed...

Matthew Montfort explains Ancient Future

And talk about having the right guy in the audience? I was fully equipped to record their performance on my Zoom digital audio recorder (please see the audio links below). And, I caught Vishal's tabla lesson...

Ancient Future - Vishal Nagar Gives a Tabla Lesson

(I apologize for the distortion--the camera mic is blown)

The music was outstanding! Their playing was extremely well-executed. Matthew was fast and melodic on the guitar, improvising, in Indian scales, with Vishal following every note perfectly. 

People don't realize that Indians were working improvisation into their music for a few thousand years before Western culture began to do it. In Europe and America, improvisation (aside from old Black Gospel, Folk Music and Blue Grass) wasn't really appreciated until Jazz came along in the early 20th Century. I took Jazz training and music theory for 7 years as a kid, and learned from the Maine Jazz masters that the word "Jazz" (to them) literally meant: "to improvise." Soloing in Jazz is the ultimate expression of musical freedom. It led to its extensive use in Rock and Roll, and is now fully expected of great instrumentalists the world over.

Hearing these two guys be so psychically connected with the most ancient form of improvisation was a real treat; one I could never have even planned to enjoy on this trip. I offer the following two pieces for your enjoyment. I will eventually master the other ones two, but it takes a bit of work with each song, and I just don't have enough time to do it today.

                                                                                                                                                                   

Left click on the link to hear the music, and right click to download it...

Ancient Future - Dawn of Love

 Ancient Future - Elephant

What a great time! I spoke with Matthew and asked him how he got into Indian music and guitar. He told his big brother played guitar and he really admired him. He asked his parents if he could learn guitar, and instead they insisted he learn "a real instrument" and bought him a trumpet. He hated it.

He tried again and they bought him piano lessons. He did that for while until he was finally able to get a guitar on his own. Funny, a similar thing happened to me. When I was in 6th grade everyone was choosing an instrument. I wanted to learn guitar, but my parents bought a trumpet. I was never very good at the trumpet. I like it better now, but I'm still not very good.

The time came for me to leave. I wanted to get as far as I could toward Napa that night. The hour was growing late and the sun was very low. It took me two failed attempts to finally find Route 12 (Broadway). Somehow, I figured it out and was walking out of Sonoma just at sunset...

Sunset in Sonoma

On the edges of a parking lot I saw a very rare and beautiful Passionflower (Passiflora incarnata) vine...

Passionflower

Besides being one of the showiest of all flowers and producing passion fruit, it is also slightly psychoactive (and is an MAOI) and has been used for centuries to aid sleep and to potentiate other substances.

For some reason my right butt cheek was hurting right under the ball of my hip. I had no choice but to walk, and have learned that no matter what the pain or ache is (for the most part) it is nothing that 5 miles of walking can't fix. Such was the case on this night. By the time I was in my sleeping place the pain had long since vanished. People who walk shorter distances and get a cramp or muscle ache do the wrong thing by deciding not to walk. When they quit early the problem that causes the ache is still in full bloom and is not being allowed to work itself out. That means that it could be a problem for many days afterward. This counter-intuitive method (e.g. walking it off) is healthy and effective. Try it the next time you cramp up or get a muscle, ankle, knee or hip ache. 

When I'd gone about 3 miles down Route 12, I saw a billboard that caught my eye. Usually, the cliche about schools training kids for the cubical or the factory stand true. It was nice to see an advertisement promoting creativity for once...

Creativity is Important at Sonoma Valley High School

I got all the way to Route 12/121. My feet were hurting and I had blisters that needed attention. I went off to the side of the road to rest and saw a piece a parcel of field that looked as if it had been leftover from the highway construction. I walked up into it and saw a nice place to nest.

Again it was a field. Again, it was soft. Again, it was in a perfect location; completely hidden from all angles. The air at night around here gets very damp and muggy as the dew point is reached. It attracts moisture to my backpack. And, my clothes (after being soaked with sweat) can not dry out. It means that each next day I need to find a sunny spot to dry everything. I know this is taking a toll of my sleeping bag...

The Nest

  

My attempt to dry my jacket on the walking stick.

When I'd settled in, I removed my socks for the first time in days and took a look at the half dozen blisters all of over them. Some were large. There is only one way to handle blisters. They must be punctured, leaving a hole that is too large to reseal again, and then drained. Thankfully I have a med kit and have become very good at treating these issues. 

The thing that makes a blister hurt is that after fluid has filled the separated skin, walking on that balloon makes the skin continue to peel away from the foot concentrically. And, besides the actual rocks and grass seeds that end up under my foot, the blisters themselves can feel like pieces of glass or metal filings. It is only after treating the blisters that I know for sure that I have a "thing" in my shoe and not just a blister. The relief from treating these blisters is immediate and lasting. Once a blister has been lanced and drained, it will not return in the same place.

This uncomfortable business is normal. It is always what happens when I start a new journey. It is to be expected and its treatment is the only way that feet can adjust to heavy use. I can plan on doing this again when I finally receive my hiking boots.

Getting to sleep was a piece of cake. I had a HUGE amount of walking to do in the morning and wanted to rest my feet as long as possible. Besides the blisters, the soles of my shoes do not have enough shock absorbing rubber for this kind of walking, making the muscles on the bottoms of my feet very sore after each day. Unfortunately, this is not the type of pain that can be gotten rid of by walking. It is only exacerbated by it. That is why I am pretty much limited to no more than 25 miles a day. 

This had been a great day with many varied experiences. the next day would not disappoint either.

Sonoma Sleeping Place