A Living Magazine - Grounded in Maine - Day 19 - Woolwich to Wiscasset

Nice morning. These Maine mornings had been exceptionally beautiful. The spot worked really well. I noticed upon looking around through the tent screen that there was a building off in the back of the woods. It had regular white and brown patches across the front of it, but without glasses I just couldn't make out what kind of structure it was.

It was time to get going. Pack up was quick. I noticed that I'd squashed my Dollar Tree sunglasses, so I switched the neck band over to the ones I'd found the morning before and left the broken ones on the tree with the other symbols. I don't think this counts as littering, because I was making art for a future Nomad to find, or for me to find someday if I return. 

After climbing down onto the road, I quickly realized what the building was in the back woods. It was a self storage place, and the other associated buildings were set along the roadside. It seemed the SD card was still working and I made the most of it. This would be a longer walk if I were to go all the way to the eastern edge of Wiscasset, at nine miles. But, I wouldn't get that far...   

A train trestle as seen from Route 1, while crossing the Sasanoa River.

I passed by the iconic Montsweag Flea Market yard, wishing it was a Wednesday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday...

And shortly after that came the Montsweag Roadhouse. My dad used to play guitar here in various bands. I'm not sure, but I believe I jammed with one of them here years ago. Great food...or, I should say, "Fine Food"...and "Cocktails."

Tribute to an anonymous person in a roadside bouquet.

Seemed a really long five miles. And, when I got to the following sign I realized that this might be the end of town to stay in. I went into McDonald's, ordered an iced coffee and studied Google Maps for anything resembling restaurants, gas stations or supermarkets at the other end of town. Except for a place called Sarah's Cafe, right near the bridge heading out of town, there really was not much. This area also looked better for sleep spots. I decided that this would be where I'd center my base of operations for this day and the next...

Now I knew that after walking the next four miles in a couple days and my time in Wiscasset

visiting my friend Colleen, it would only be nine miles to Boothbay.

I worked most of the morning at McDonald's, then went to Shaw's to buy enough sandwich stuff for the next three meals. Crossing Route 1 is a real test of patience. I'd done it a number of times here before writing this post. And each time, it took a few minutes to do. Once again, there are no crosswalks. Such a simple thing to just put one in. But, why? Why would the town want to slow down all those eager tourists? I had been the only pedestrian that I'd seen for the last two days.

I bought my sandwich stuff, which I was overcharged for by two dollars, not realizing this until I'd thrown the receipt away. I tried in vain to find it in the trash, but gave up after getting strange looks from a few people. I guess Shaw's is richer than it was. Unfortunately, losing even two dollars meant I was going to be broke by the next day. 

After Shaw's, I headed further down to Dunkin Donuts to work for the rest of the afternoon, noting this area as a possible sleep spot... 

This looks private enough. I overlooked the little swamp in front,

something I would pay for later on this evening.

I was doing well. All of this writing was catching me up. Now, on the day I'm writing this particular post, I will actually be up to date. Once it had grown dark, I packed up the tablet and trekked out into the cooling air.

When I'd returned to the Shaw's parking lot to get a better sense of the sleep spot, it was dark enough to head in. The ground was very rough. It was obvious that no one, and probably no animals, had been through there in quite some time. Sticks lay piled up where they had fallen over the years, with the most rotted-out ones partially submerged in the leaves, and the newer ones snapping loudly beneath my feet. There were hills and ruts. Although there appeared to be several areas that looked good, I was beginning to be attacked by mosquitoes. And, once they have you on the run, you're a goner if you take to long. 

The more I fought them, the sweatier I became. This alerted others to join in the hunt. I settled on a fairly crappy piece of ground and worked furiously to excavate it. My panting attracted more of the little bitches, and the biting became continuous. It is my ankles, behind my knees, around my elbows, on my fingers, in my ears, and on top of my hot-head that receive their special attentions.

Finally, the tent was up with the two pole configuration, I got the backpack swung in with all the bags from the tarps and poles. In the tent, the whining and buzzing heard on the outside was especially intense. Only one bug had made it into the tent and I made short work of her, realizing only afterwards that she had gotten me first--judging by the drop of blood on my hands. I am fairly fortunate in that the bites don't welt up very much. And, after the first good scratching, the bites don't usually bother me. They hardly ever last until morning.

With that craziness out of the way, and trying to cool down, I made myself a big bologna and cheese sandwich and chomped it down. It was the only thing I'd eaten that day. As I'd mentioned in the last few posts, I've been jittery and had some heart flutters. This increase in blood sugar and the consequent feeling of protein in my stomach helped calm this feeling of restlessness. 

The remaining sticks under the tent were aggravating. And, a small incline downward from feet to head kept me sliding toward the head end of the tent all night. It just kind of sucked. I usually do a much better job of preparing the spot, but could not stand the bugs this time. I think I was overtired too and a recent conversation with two friends that afternoon was stuck looping in my mind. 

It was the same old thing. Basically, they publicly assert that if I'm asking for donations, then maybe I should get "a real job." This, after having gone through all of the bullshit a couple weeks ago. This subject, while being understood by people who read the blog regularly, continues to come up with those who don't read it and don't get it. All in all, it is better than it used to be--verging on not being a problem anymore. The one major issue is that when it happens it keeps me up sometimes when I really just need to sleep.

On the inside I seemed to be expanding and evolving, while on the outside, I still appeared - even to myself - to look older, more exhausted, ready for a break, weather-worn. Whenever I looked in the mirror lately my overgrown beard made me seem ten years older than I am. And, after so many walks, it is sometimes difficult to walk after sitting for a while. That makes me look old too. I am very self conscious at times. Please don't ask not be. If I were able I'd ignore it all. So strange that in many circumstances I don't care how people see me.

I have breathing exercises that eventually lull me to sleep when it doesn't come naturally. Such was the case on this night. Again, my dreams were filled with fantastic and edifying imagery, at least for the few hours I was able to sleep.