A Living Magazine - Grounded in Maine - Day 2 - Portland to Falmouth

[This post has been edited to remove a section that gave concern to one of my readers, and upon rereading it, I completely understood his point. It recalled a conflict I had with a gentleman at Starbucks in Falmouth. I seemed to be passing judgement upon how this man looked. But ultimately I caused the tiff we had, because I was having a bad day. I regret writing that section. I can see how it would have been insulting to people who may have fit the physical description of the man and his clothing. I do not judge people by the way they look. And, I will be very sensitive about that in the future. I'd like to thank this reader for straightening me out, and apologize if anyone was offended. I make mistakes too--God knows. And that was one of them. Peace.]

When the alarm beeped I was up like rocket. Shoes went on, sleeping bag stowed, tent shaked out and disassembled. Mikey was walking around in his tighty whites, still playing the he-man, but was surprised by how fast I packed up. I never said a word to him when I left.

The morning was muggy and warm. I crossed the bridge into Falmouth, seeing a red sky in the east. There was likely to be rain on this day.

I wasn't in the best of moods, and when I have little sleep and feel as though I've been disrespected (they'd promised to be quiet last night) I have to be careful not to take it out on the first folks I see. 

I went to Dunkin Donuts. The poor employees of that Falmouth branch have to be there at 4:30 am. But at least they were very nice and wide awake by the time I arrived. I worked hard all the way until noon and then decided to move on. I'd seen online that there was a Starbucks I'd missed the first time through Falmouth the week before. So, I headed there. 

Compounding my irritable mood, was that same old anxiety about not having enough money. It was only my second day on the Journey and I was at risk of not being able to eat the next day. I had a hard time understanding why. 

My reads have been increasing every single day. This, I loved of course. But to then open the email each day and see no donations made me feel kind of foolish. The large increase in readers almost made up for struggling to eat each day and wearing shoes with holes in the treds. This is not meant as a guilt trip for you readers, only an account of how I was doing (something I have always pursued here--the truth). 

I had about $15 left in the world. I needed one good meal on this day and then as much as I could scrounge for another meal the next day. On the way to Starbucks (where I planned only to buy a small bag of popcorn for $1.69--my ticket price to work there for the rest of the day), I passed a Shaw's Supermarket and decided to check for any deals I could find there. After about a thousand McDoubles in the last two years, I just can't handle McDonald's food anymore.

At Shaw's I saw that they had a pretty good price for the salad bar, at $5.99 a pound. I tried very hard to get as much protein into my little plastic container as possible without going over one pound. I managed pretty well actually, even slipping in some cottage cheese as a dressing. Normally I'd buy a juice also, but there was no way on this day. An ice water at Starbucks would have to do. 

The salad was excellent. It was tasty, had a lot of different things to keep it interesting, and filled me up. That is one of the better Shaw's I've been to. For the last month I'd barely had one meal a day, so eating even a modest amount felt filling. 

Once at Starbucks I poured myself into the last Prologue about Buddy, uploading the pictures from my visit with Rick Hamilton so that I'd be ready to work on that next. Since my keyboard doesn't work on the laptop anymore, I only use the computer as a tablet, typing with the onscreen keyboard. But in order to do that I must have the tablet nearly flat in order to type. The problem with that is the Wi-Fi keeps coming in and out--freezing the screen, so I have to tip the tablet every now and then to reconnect. It is frustrating and consumes a relatively large percentage of my time. Of the eight hours I spent at Starbucks, nearly two of those were taken up by frozen screens. It became kind of maddening to tell you the truth.

All I want to do is work, but all of my old stuff that has already seen thousands of miles (and hours) of use crossing the country is breaking down more and more each day. I must be doing something right, because the blog is growing significantly more popular. But the mundane things like a meal each day, shoes to wear, and a tablet that I can write on, continuously hamper my efforts. 

For new readers, I have found that writing is far more tiring than walking. It takes an immense amount of focus and is as intense as any job I've ever had. Thank God I'm my own boss or I'd jump off a bridge. Putting in 24 hour days for no steady paycheck would drive anyone insane after a while. Still I do love my job or I wouldn't be doing it. The problem is though that when I run out of resources I can't do any of it. This is my one returning and only concern.

I'd planned to walk to Yarmouth on this night, because a day walk would have been torturous in the 95 degree, humid air. But when I checked the weather I saw that thunderstorms were likely to pass over, dumping rain. I contemplated staying in Falmouth for another night. It turned out that the weather report was spot on.

When I was done writing, I left. The first storm was due to hit around 6:00 pm, then the next would be at about 9:00 pm. That meant I had to find a sleep spot in between storms; a place where I could ride out the first one. What better place than Walmart, with its acres of plastic junk and buzzing fluorescent lights to tour through. I could look for some new equipment and dream about getting someday? The store would serve as a perfect umbrella. In the parking lot on the way in I saw this...  

My dear friends, this is what a thunderhead looks like.

Well, didn't Walmart have great deals! There really is a price advantage to shopping at a place that pays its employees so little, and in general values them even less. My philosophical issues with Walmart are nearly, if hypocritically, balanced out by my love of its convenience to me personally, and those rock bottom prices.

I saw a sleeping bag good down to 20 degrees for $39. And, in a pinch, if my shoes completely gave out I could sacrifice a day's meal to buy these... 

Slip-on's, but they would work for a little while.

I completely live the life of a street person. Unlike most street people, with a fairly high IQ and a bit of writing talent, not to mention a shit load of camping experience, I can sleep in the rain, work seven days a week and almost survive. It just requires being clothed in Walmart garments and begging for everything else--like a good vagrant. 

On the upside I am growing a stout readership and have gotten my pack so small that I almost look like a regular citizen. If every dirty bum like me could be so fortunate! This isn't sarcasm. I genuinely appreciate what I'm doing. Paraphrasing what Rick said about his own career in the last post, I will make this work until I can finally join the American domestic life again. As he also implied, it is just a matter of continuing to do it, and never stop.

I heard the thunder above the store and saw the lightning flashes outside. Then after 20 minutes, there was golden sun on the trees in the east and I knew the first storm had passed. When I walked outside I was greeted with the most astoundingly beautiful - if unsettled - sky-work...

Looking to the east.

Looking to the west.

As I scouted for a sleep spot near Waldo's gas station and deli, I caught site of this double rainbow, right over the entrance to a trail I'd never seen before...

It led directly into the forest I later learned was called Pine Grove Preserve, between Route 1 and Route 88. I took it. Surely there would be a pot of gold there, or at least a place to make camp for the night.

It was a nice trail and there were plenty of places off of it to set up the tent...

The sweat was pouring out of me. My shirt was nearly soaked all the way down to my waist when I finally settled on a quiet little nook. I was tired too. The mosquitoes were in top form and saw the delicious meal that I was. The thought of putting the fly and tarp on the tent in this heat, just to swelter inside of it seemed ridiculous. The sky looked rather clear anyway. Perhaps I would miss that second storm-bullet? 

I figured (like a fool who hadn't yet learned his lesson) that I could catch a few z's and get all of the rain protection onto the tent at the last minute once I felt the first drop. So, I crawled into the tent and lay on the floor directly, without using the sleeping bag, just in case...falling asleep immediately.

Around, 9:30 pm, I didn't feel the first drop but instead woke up to the sound of thunder and the many drops of a light drizzle. I knew what was coming. 

In an almost exact recreation of my terrible night in Chelmsford, Massachusetts, I tried in vain to pull out the fly and tarp, put the third tent pole in, and stake everything down in time as the drizzle turned into rain, then into a downpour, and then into swimming pool amounts of water. I simply could not believe my stupidity. I'd sworn that Chelmsford would never happen again and here I was back on the drowning-wet level of hell.

Once everything was semi-secured and I got back in tent, I found myself kneeling in pools of water. I moved the backpack to the driest place I could find. Then, as in Chelmsford, I stood on my hands and knees, cursing everything I could possibly think of. I was already soaked and so gave up and just lay down on my side upon the wet floor, with my head resting on my arm for a pillow. I fell back asleep as the rain battered the outside of the tent mercilessly.

At about 1:00 am I opened my eyes. The rain had stopped at some point and I sat up to assess my sorry state, pulling out and turning on my solar air lantern. The backpack had remained dry. That was one blessing. Except for a major puddle near the foot end of the tent and a minor one where the fly had pulled out the stake from the ground outside the head end making the it sag against the screen and subsequently soaking through, much of the floor was now dry as well. Another blessing. Keeping count of these blessings, I reached into the front pocket of the pack and took out my small pile of napkins. Phew! Glad I'd kept those.

Judiciously, I bailed out the big puddle, scooping water into both hands and tossing it out the tent door. I was able to lift the head end of the floor while holding down the zipper bottom of the doorway enough to roll the smaller puddle out into the leaves. The stretched vault of the fly over the doorway had also come loose from its stake. I could not afford to lose that stake. So with my forearms buried in wet rotting leaves I fished around for a good five minutes until I was able to locate the stake and put it back in place.

Slowly, and with great attention to detail, I used the technique of wiping the damp floor with napkins, then laying the wet ones aside to dry, then repeating the process until they were utterly dissolved. Starbucks has great napkins, but they are so biodegradable that they turn into something resembling oatmeal with only two cycles of this wiping and drying. 

All the while, I blew constantly on the floor. This combination of processes steadily dried out the tent. And, by approximately 3:00 am it was dry enough to pull out the sleeping bag. I wouldn't be able to lie on it, but I could at least use it as a pillow, which I did--virtually passing out. 

As my consciousness faded, I reassured myself with my old "bad-to-good day" mantra: The good thing about a bad day is that a good day usually follows. I always try to then ignore the alternate and inevitably inverse conclusion. 

Falmouth Sleep Spot.