Well, bears be damned! I made it through the night without become a late night munchy for the midnight visitor. What did happen though, was a drop in temperature, combined with the moisture of my breath during the night. It caused a nice frost to form on the inside of the tarp/fly...
I just can't help giving this tent accolades for brilliant design. As I've mentioned before, the tarp/fly is kept about three inches off the surface of the tent itself. No moisture, breath, or condensation ever forms on the inside of the tent itself. It is swept out through the ample screening and onto the tarp/fly. Then as it melts (in this case), the angle of the tarp/fly channels the drops out and away from the tent. They run down and off the bottom edges.
On this morning I was able to stay there (cautiously) until the sun rose. Then, because of the nature of the treated nylon on the tarp/fly, the melted frost evaporated very quickly in the sunlight. I did feel the need to pack up before the entire thing was dry. I saw a "No Trespassing" sign on a nearby tree that I had missed the night before. I won't consciously trespass if I see a sign. The chance anyone would really care is pretty unlikely, but always (going by the POMA method), one must do the most reasonable of all options, combining them as efficiently as possible. In this way, sleeping in gave more rest, waiting for the sun meant less drying later, and leaving as soon as I could with the tarp/fly mostly dry avoided the further risk of detection, while saving drying time later that day.
My fingertips were totally numb by the time I got out on the road. I have a new thing I do now. I slide my cold hands down the front of my pants, right next to my skin. Heats 'em up right away, despite the instinct to tumble forward from the frigidness on my hips.
I had been wise to walk so far the night before. When I left Ryan's the sign on the road indicated that it was "19 miles to Spartanburg," I covered about six of those during the night. That left about thirteen. It was a good and doable amount; under four hours. It is great to leave in the early morning, because I'll be arriving there just around noon, leaving the rest of the day for writing and finding a sleep spot.
The walk was pretty typical. And, I ask the reader's forgiveness for showing such repetitive kinds of scenery. Truth is though, that's what's there. It is good for you to share in the monotony--gives the full effect...
The Three Little... distinguished gentlemen. Won't catch me drinking and driving!
If I had a phone I might call in texters though!
I had seen this so many times and wanted to get a shot of it. From Georgia north--so far,
these vines (called, Kudzu--thanks to my mom for the name) cover trees.
I like the look, but am dubious about the health of the trees.
In northern states this is not seen very often. Winter snow is an effective cleanser of vines.
Of course! What are Sparks for anyway?
Great example of a walker's nightmare road shoulder. As I walked across this, no driver made an attempt to move over, even though there were no cars coming in the other direction.
To be fair though, at a similar bridge just outside of Belton, a semi slowed to a stop and
protected me from the traffic behind him while I made it over. Truckers are good guys.
Dam! That's some brown water.
Typical of the five or so hills and valleys I walked over.
Just in case the reader has not seen enough brown rivers in the last few posts.
Trash piling up on the side of the road, along with the increasing frequency of traffic, told me I was getting close. Every town or city has it's own kind of signature feel in the landscape. I could give a short one sentence list of generalizations for every place I've walked into. Naturally, they would be only my personal impressions, but you might agree with some of them, were you to have strolled into these places after hiking the stretches between them. The edges of Spartanburg, if coming up Route 29, could be described as: hilly, hardwoods more than pines, small streams and rivers, not as many tangled vines as Greenville (for example), open spaces, and neat middle class neighborhoods, with the occasional mansion...
My summer cottage.
I made it to the boxstore-edge of Spartanburg, not too worse for the wear. There, I found that my long sought Starbucks destination was merely a counter at the local Ingles supermarket. Bummer! They did have a completely empty cafe area that the woman at the deli swore up and down had regular Starbucks Wi-Fi access. I bought a soda and settled in to write. But, no matter how hard I tried--using every trick in the Nextbook, I could not get online. The computer said I was, diagnostics said I was, God herself said I was... but I wasn't! Has to be my least favorite part of being a roving reporter.
I saw a McDonald's across the street and decided to slog over there. When I went to throw my bottle away, I was conflicted and confused--ha! ...
Each compartment was marked "Trash," and each window was labeled to educate me on precisely what would be considered acceptable for the bin in question. There were examples of the same damn
materials (plastic, paper, cardboard, and styrofoam).
I covered my eyes and dropped the bottle in the closest one.
McDonald's worked much better than I'd anticipated. Interestingly, it was entirely hispanic owned, operated and staffed. There were a couple African American women working, but they spoke fluent Espanol. I worked at a back table with an AC outlet and relatively fast internet, getting the previous post up. The staff was very personable and tolerant of people hanging out there. It was, frankly, one of the friendliest of the McDonald's I'd been to in recent days. A short (talking, four foot something) Mayan-looking woman constantly swept and wiped tables around me, making sure I was happy with my small Sprite.
Maybe out of sheer laziness, I located the closest possible sleep spot, right across 29 in one of the clover leafs of the adjacent highway (I-26). And when it was sufficiently dark (and cold, by the way), I ventured out into the night to find a place there.
Crossing 26, I waited until traffic was sufficiently light and made my move. Immediately, I ran into pricker bushes everywhere. They snagged my clothes and left their claws all over me, along with a kind of bur I'd first encountered in Alabama; flat, triangular, with barbs on all three corners. I discovered what they are: "Stick-tight" (Desmodium cuspidatum, Fabaceae)--sometimes called "beggar's lice" or "hitch hikers"...
Stick-tights, from Google Images.
Because of their flat shape, they clung closely to my sweater and were a pain in the ass to pull off. I reached the far corner of the area, which was a hill with only a few level spots. I chose one--not being particularly picky at that point. Sweeping the ground free of significant dead branches, pine cones and ripping out as many prickers as possible, I set the new tarp down as a footprint over the leaves, assembled the tent, attached the tarp/fly to it, took a couple shots of the tent, unzipped the flap, and threw Saggy in, then climbed in myself...
You can see the yellow sign of the McDonald's I was just at in the background if you look carefully.
Also, that darkish patch on the flap is left-over moisture from the morning frost.
Almost instantly, the temperature rose about ten degrees inside the shelter. My fingers were numb and had scratches all over them. I pulled out the sleeping bag, laid it across the floor, stuffed the clothes bag-pillow under the hood of the bag and crawled into it. There is just nothing like that initial warm up. Carefully, for fear of snagging and splitting, I pulled the zipper up to my face, turned onto my left side, and settled in for the night. I have been sleeping with the edge of the open bag over my head.
There is an interesting effect when I do that. Breathing in pulls cold air through the opening, and breathing out warms my hands--which are always close to my face (arms crossed in the tight bag). There is no other way to position myself. I thought that maybe the process of cold-in and warm-out might equalize, but the warmth mostly dominates. When I actually sleep, I breathe much less deeply and the warm air is retained, with less moisture inside the bag. I would completely seal the bag at the opening, but the air becomes uncomfortably stale (maybe too much carbon dioxide?). I slept like a rock.
Spartanburg Sleep Spot 1
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