All day Friday I was the anchor to the World. Coaxing it to stay on the road with the winds high from the side. I was leaning all day on the bad foot, today the knees and feet are sore. Last night I was on the side of the highway waiting for darkness to fall so I could set up my tent and get some rest when a farmer working a nearby field came and offered to shuttle me the last few miles to Salem and then take me to get the van back at Jake's corner. I know some may think I cheated. I say "Tell my aching bones they're slackers." This morning I awoke behind the truck stop/restaurant where everyone comes for breakfast. When I limped in the men at the "liars table" told me if I was limping that bad on the opening day of pheasant season I was in trouble. Once I get walking the limp subsides. The population of the state increases twenty percent today. Half the folks in the store were dressed in all kinds of orange clad brand new hunters garb with that "I wanna' kill something!" look written all over. When I was on the road yesterday I could tell the ones who were speeding to their destinations with the same look daring me to slip across the white line so they could get their first kill. A Hutterite farmer and his wife stopped and gave me a watermelon, a small one that weighed only fifteen pounds. I sat in the ditch and ate it down to about five pounds and put the rest in a bag then loaded it in my pack. Then every few minutes I'd have to stop to expel the water from the melon. I do love that melon! This morning I have touched up some spots with paint and while it dries I am watching the parade of hunters waiting and preparing for the noon hour when the season is official; chafing at the bit. Twelve miles to the next corner where I am told a closed up store used to be and cars can park. I will carry the tent in case I need it. It is getting cold so I will have to wear more gear, more weight, walk slower.
I am not too enthusiastic today. Oh well, at least I woke up in a goo place thanks to the farmer-angel.