IWALLK: A Living Magazine - Day 84 - Roxy, Catherine and Creeky Living

Another day dawned in the City of Six Bridges. Besides trying to catch up the blog, I didn't have a very demanding schedule for the day. It would be filled with more exploration. I got up and got started.

There is a hill that overlooks the creek and bridges, and one particular place I hadn't looked for graffiti yet, right under the third bridge. So under I went. There wasn't much...

To the casual observer, trash just looks like trash. But, to me, it holds a wealth of information about the people who have been in a certain place. It used to repulse me, but now I simply find it interesting. People leave their personal mail and other items all the time.

There aren't many homeless folks in Spokane. And, as with Salem, Oregon, and Vancouver, Washington, there is so much land to camp on that people who have obvious sleeping places are few and far between--leaving plenty for everyone else. Still, some people do seem to prefer the more uncomfortable and man made areas (like under bridges). I don't know why this is. But, peering up where the bridge met the land was a suitcase-tarp-sleeping bag-tent kind of thing with someone in it.

I quietly searched the trash, and besides Bud Light, Pepsi, water and energy drink cans, there was a lot of mail...

I'm always surprised a the amount of evidence for women and children there is. Apparently, "Roxy" is a teenage girl who is struggling with the issues of her impending adult life (as many teens do)...

I like the last note: "Be good!"

Again, a great last line: "I am sorry I complain so much... Amen."

It appears that someone is looking out for her, and wrote this comforting note...

I heard stirring in the suit-case-tent-thing above me, and moved a bit faster with the photos...

I'm starting to figure out that most of the "tags" have to do with selling drugs. There doesn't seem to be a turf issue, with gangs and the like, but rather a serious amount of tagging and over-tagging (painting over someone else's tag in revenge for something). Furthermore, I don't think the "Acid" tags have as much to do with LSD as they do with the sale of the new designer psychedelic drugs...and LSD.

Occasionally, there are websites mixed in with the tags. One from the day before was: acid.mef.com. I searched it - even on the deep web, using the TOR Onion Browser, which is encrypted and allows access to about a hundred times more websites--some representing VERY illegal activities - and found exactly...nothing. If you ever want an interesting afternoon, download TOR and check it out for yourself (it's very safe, despite what you may encounter).

Other tags around town advertise "Stones", which I thought was methamphetamine (or "crank"), but apparently honors an old gang, "Black P. Stone Nation". All of this is anecdotal, but I am learning more. I want to compare these Western styles with the Midwest and then the East Coast, as I journey forward.

When I got done with my graffiti trolling, I went over to the bench at the sitting area that I'd cleaned up a couple days before and pulled off the right boot which had gotten a small rock in it. As I was lacing it back up, a woman appeared out of nowhere, and handed me two dollars. I looked up, and told her it was OK, and that I was all set. I blurted out that I was a journalist. To which she laughed loudly, then bent down close to me and said, "You know, I've been in situations where I had to lie too", and then insisted I take the money. I chuckled and told her I wasn't lying, then gave her a card. She still looked unconvinced. I told her I know that I match the stereotype image of a homeless person, but that I did have a job.

She reached out to shake my hand, saying her name was Catherine. She told me to wait right there; that she was going up to the store at the top of the hill for beer and wanted to come back and have a few with me. She asked if I would wait. I told her I "might". But, I knew I needed to go downtown. When she'd disappeared around the corner I got up and headed down Seventh Street. She'd have to have her morning beer without me. I'll wait and see if she friends me on Facebook or reads this blog. I have never met so many women in one city...a subject that will have to wait for another time. On Monroe was a framing business that had some great paintings in the window. This was my favorite...

Right beside it was a bike store. I'm curious about these fat-wheeled bikes. I'd seen them ever since visiting Sacramento. It seems they would be a bit hard to ride, due to the weight and girth of the tires and the friction, but I guess I'd have to try one. I did notice the 16 gears have a low size-ratio, which would allow easier pedaling at low speeds. Hmmm...

I finally got my picture-taking, beer-breakfast avoiding ass to the library and published the post I should have written the day before, then took off to do more exploring. It appeared I was running out of interesting things to see and write about here, but I mined a few others...

Library set-up.

For the hell of it, I decided to go out to Wellesley and Wal-Mart to pick up some items I'd forgotten to get the day before. Since I was right near Monroe, I crossed that bridge to the northern part of town. It happened to cross right over the Sky Ride and the Lower Falls Park I'd just visited...

Monroe Street Bridge.

The Sky ride, from above.

The Lower Falls Park. Looks like a scale model.

Catching the bus on Monroe (Route 24), I got to Wellesley and waited an unusually long time for Bus 33, eventually deciding to simply walk to Wal-Mart. Of course the bus passed me as I walked into super center's parking lot! I did get the Wal-Mart thing done in time to still use my transfer for riding 33 back to 24, then downtown.

The bus stop at Monroe and Wellesley.

My habit had been to get back to the creek earlier and earlier each day, spending the remainder of days there, rather than downtown (and thus avoiding a night walk). So I went "home" at around 3:30 pm...

At the corner of Lincoln and Second. Here, they call it "P. B. ARRR"...

The beer of aliens and cost-conscious humans alike.

It was always good to reach Fourth Avenue. That meant I was only 1.5 miles from the creek...

When I got back to the sleeping place, I set down the backpack and decided to really explore for other possible places...

Here is one used some time ago.

I usually won't use a place that someone else has slept in. It's just too gross a prospect--even for me. But I do bend the rule if it is clean enough or has other good aspects. The above wasn't private enough.

Always, was there the ever-present bridges looming over the area, and in the reddening light of the late afternoon, I couldn't help getting more shots of the closest one. There is something about the color of the sunlight at that time of day, mixing with the natural color of the concrete that impresses me...

Then, just because I was able to check out different angles I photographed my sleep spot from other views to see if the backpack could be seen...

The sleeping place entrance way.

Looking north.

Looking east.

Typical sleeping set-up.

I still think it's neat to see a train driving through the sky.

This is where I'd tried to spend that rainy night the week before.

This white message is new: "Mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad...

is is is is is is is is... God God God God God God"

During this search I located an old place that hadn't been used for a very long time. There was only a little bit of trash, but the place itself was so well hidden that I thought I'd move my stuff and try it out for the night...