It felt so good to be back on the road again. It all made sense again. There is no cure for the doldrums (apologies for the nautical reference on a landlocked journey) like moving on down the line. Made it to Simmesport LA, called the city and got permission to camp at the Yellow Bayou Civil War park on the Atchafalaya river. Pitched my tent and then it looked like rain. I have a rain fly, but I took the lazy man's way out and dragged everything under a pavilion and threw my sleeping bag on the ground. It's a pretty sweet set up for, um, absolutely free! No running water but it does have electricity to charge stuff, and a light I can turn on and off for reading.
A passel o' kids (ages 4, 6, 6, 7, and 8) came up to me while and were curious. "You're gonna sleep here in the park? Do you have a home? You come from Houston, how far is that? My daddy works in Texas for two weeks, he works for The Oil." Ah kids, ain't they... kids. I remember what that was like, sort of. It was a whole different world.
Now I'm tired, sore, dirty, miles away from home and about to sleep out in a thunderstorm. But I'm fed and I have a good book. Have I ever been so content?
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1 comment:
I am so enjoying the glimpses into your journey (and your head). You've inherited many of your father's talents and the ability to turn a phrase is certainly one of them.
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