Kindness from Strangers

The world is an amazing place.. it often surprises me. In October my little brother was found alive in Polson, Montana by the people at the hospital. He had been missing from our lives and from the eyes of the world for 15 years. My brother road bulls as part of his military tour and the doctors there prescribed a pain killer addiction for him prior to his discharge.  After his discharge he would drop out of sight to score on the streets in the Seattle and LA areas. For the last 15 years my sister, Mona and I have often thought of him being dead in a gutter somewhere.
Orin wandered into the emergency room of the Polson hospital on October 15TH and politely asked for help finding his sister Mona. He had no coat, was confused, talked to himself and could only tell the staff that she lived somewhere near a ski mountain in the area. One of the techs noticed that he looked starved and fed him. He was not sent back out into the cold, even though he had no ID of any kind. He was allowed to sleep in the emergency waiting room and the chaplain and the hospital staff got on line trying to find Mona, who lived over a thousand miles away in Deer Park, Washington.
They gave Orin a coat and a bus ticket, asking the driver to make sure he did not leave the bus. Orin was picked up by my niece in Spokane and is now safely staying with my sister.
I hope to get there to visit as soon as I can.
Orin has audio and visual delusions caused by irreparable brain damage. If the folks in Polson had not taken care of him and gone out of their way to help him, he would have died in the winter cold. Hurrah for all who helped him. Thank you so much.

Designing the Houseboat 1

 Last week, I began the pleasant task of designing a place to live and a boat to float in for the next stage of my journey down the New River and then the Ohio River. This short trip is the preview of my continuing travel along the Great Loop. If the boat is a good one I may live aboard for some years in a number of countries.

I started by reviewing all the houseboat plans and views I could find on the internet. Some of these dated back to Old Popular Mechanics issues from the 1950's. A very interesting set of drawings come from Jay Benford, who designed houseboats with ferry boat lines in the early 70's.

Next, I thought about a concrete structure, because I had once read a book on ferro-concrete yacht construction. I laid out a possible design and figured the weight of it. From this I computed the draft (that's how much water it would take to float it) and decided that I would not always have so much water to float her.

Then, I started thinking about high bouyancy systems, like docks and floats that do not require deep water to manuever. I contacted one dock engineer at Dock Hardware and discovered the sizes of standard polyethylene wrapped foam floats used to float docks and breakwaters. Docks are usually built from such floats crowned with steel, aluminum or wood platforms. Breakwaters use the same floats that are then weighted by concrete to rest low in the water and resist wave travel.

The standard measure of flotation for these wrapped foam floats is 65# per cubic foot. Now, even though the engineer used this figure, I think he over estimates. Salt water lifts about 64# per cubic foot and fresh water about 62.4#. I will use 55# as my design figure so I will not under estimate my flotation. This also gives me a 10% safety factor in fresh water and 15% in saltwater.

The floats come in standard sizes, in multiples of 2 and 4 foot lengths. I think a 4' by 8' by 3' float block will give the best lift per draft ratios. Each block can lift 5280#. These blocks cost approximately $620 shipped to the building site, wherever that will be. So each pound of lift costs about $0.12.

I think twelve (12) blocks would float almost any structure I might use. So 63360# of lift costing me $7600 will be one of my design restrictions.

I paced the slip widths at the docking area of Claytor Lake State Park in Virginia. These can take a vessel of 24' beam, so I will use this as my maximum width, because I will do quite a bit of freshwater docking. Length can be much longer and as long as the boat can turn within its own length at a near stop, it can be up to 50 feet at this same facility.

The image below occured on Stumble and I thought I could design a houseboat to display it. So I need a long first story and a smaller second story for this houseboat. That also give rise to roof garden structuring and solar collections. Ignore the roof here and imagine one that is flat above the mushroom and again above the girl. A sort of USA train caboose shape would be fine.

This two story concept led me to give up on the ferro-concrete building idea completely as a concrete two story building with concrete or even steel walls becomes outrageously top-heavy. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 63,000#, which leaves no margin for safety once furnishings are fitted in.

So I began to explore the idea of floating a prefab steel or aluminum building. These are much to pricey for my pocketbook at the moment, so I thought further and decided that a modification of international steel shipping containers would do the trick.

I am looking into costs for these, but at the moment they really interest me. I am thinking two 40' containers welded or bolted side by side with a third 20' container on top. This would give me two decks and the desired shape.

I will add more thoughts tomorrow. Right now I need to review the Wall Street Occupation statements coming out of various encampments.

My Leaders' Infidelities

Dissatisfaction, sadness and despair are not reasons to become unfaithful. I read these words in a Nora Roberts book. She is an author I really love and admire, but I am not so sure that this statement is a true one. She was speaking about a marriage and about how a father had used these reasons to break his marriage vows to bed another woman. In the mouth of her character, the child-now-grown surviver of such a marriage, why not just end the relationship? Break it clean instead of cheating, lying, tolerating and just existing.

I think about my government, the leaders of that government, both the ones out front and the ones behind the scenes, and wonder as a child of this country, how long they will keep living with their infidelity? A long time ago, these leaders became disenchanted with the rules and mores of our country. They saw that they were not able to accomplish their goals and dreams if they had to be bound by those rules.

They put in place secret societies that promised to protect their members from exposure in the event a member's lawbreaking became public. They called these societies important names like the Central Intelligence Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Secret Service and the National Security Agency. But, they were just secret societies, formed by a group of cheating husbands to lie for each other in case of need. They could not let the country know that they had abandoned their promise to defend the Constitution so they could make deals with organized crime and criminal businessmen.

The leaders said to themselves, we need to keep our plans secret, we cannot let the public know because they will not understand. We cannot let our allies and especially our enemies know our plans.

By saying this our leaders abandoned the idea of a free and open society. They walked away from a nation of law and stepped on the trust of their people. Another Nora character says, “People have their reasons for the damnedest things in my experience.”

Before a national leader can even be sworn into office, he or she is let in on some of the secrets of the secret societies and is expected to acknowledge a continued allegiance to them. A congress member is sworn to secrecy and may not expose the crimes of past and present leaders. The President is expected to continue the policy of keeping quiet and even approving of new crimes. All the cabinet officers are pledged to allegiance to the societies and not to the flag.

This is not right! We as a people have been violated. Our leaders regularly sneak out to screw around. If one of them should develop a conscience in some area of their actions, that leader is blackmailed and pressured into going along with the societies hidden party politics, and not with the way of open argument and discourse. These secret groups have grown in power with each election since World War One. They decide who will lead and where we will be lead. Banks and companies run by members are now too big to fail. Health care and even minimum financial safety nets are gutted even though the vast majority of the people in open election demanded otherwise.

I fear the people of my country, like the betrayed wife who has long known of her husband's infidelities put up with them and him in the hopes of somehow saving her marriage, have finally come to their senses. Now, we discover whether the divorce will be amicable or hate-filled.    

From Way Back When "The Doctor Was In"

 The doctor, not Kevorkian, but ahead of his utilitarian bioethic time, saw the opportunity. He was not usually in the room where the straps were attached and the button pushed down. He seldom saw that ten year old body jump as all the muscles tightened at once. Technicians and nurses saw these jumps and put the rag in the ten year old mouth before they button pushed. They would come out then reporting, the patient is responsive, nauseous, disoriented but remarkably calm They would tell him that the button had been pushed two, three, perhaps five times and he had prescribed. His staff was well trained.

Today, he was in the room. Two years of electro-convulsive shock therapy had not cured this one. Carefully monitored jolts had not broken through the delusions that plagued this one. This male child still claimed to be a she. Yet the doctor had pledged to cure this child. That strong and healthy body should not forever be the vessel of a poisoned mind. The doctor demanded much of himself and his staff. He demanded a cure.

He was in the room when the button was pushed and stuck. He saw an opportunity when the ten year old body jumped , clinched and kept on clinching. He grabbed that opportunity with all that he had. He grabbed the wrist of a nurse as she reached to pull the clip from the head strap connector. He explained his reasoning as the body relaxed, the eyes stayed open. Doctor and staff, they waited six minutes to pull the plug from the wall.

Some of the skin over the temples pulled away when the head straps were loosened. The doctor seized his opportunity but then the child breathed a shuddering breath. One breath and then another, so the opportunity slipped through the doctor's fingers. The child's parents were entitled to a perfect body untroubled by a poisoned mind. They needed an end to this torture and worry. The doctor needed closure. They weren't going to get it. The child still breathed. .

Angels vs Blues

Angels must not ever play the blues
Never heard of an angel being poor,
Put down by his brother, sister or his mother.
Creatures playing on harp have not paid dues.
So angels just don't ever play the blues,
The feeling's left for the damned abused.
The smiling beam in God's eye would turn sour
If his blessed angels played at playing the blues.

Post it note

A deer flagged me with a post-it note
A bouncing, flashing tail of white,
Good-bye, so long, you're quite a fright.
A deer flagged me with a post-it note.

Terrorist Nation

Back in the 1950's the US government conceived the notion of a cold warrior to fight a cold war. Men, mostly men, were recruited from the armed forces, colleges and correspondent ranks to become spies. At the same time trainers were selected to teach them the skills of espionage, terrorism and black operations.
All this had to be kept secret from the US electorate, who had been raised in the ideals of chivalry and who had just fought a major war to end state sanctioned terrorism in Europe. "Better dead than Red" was a cry of the day, but the electorate could not be counted on to approve the same methods that were being condemned by Joe McCarthy and Richard Nixon in the halls of Congress. The government claimed to be above such treachery.
My father, a trainer and handler of such cold warriors, could never allow himself to be investigated for any wrong doing. He had been officially dropped from officer rank to become a non-suspect NCO cold warrior. His frequently changing posting as an aircraft crash investigator provided the cover he needed to travel the world quietly and without the flag of diplomatic immunity.
But my father was not an honorable man, just as the government leaders who sanctioned the cold warriors were not honorable men. Patriots, yes, but not adherent to the rule of US law. Practioners of torture, blackmail. extortion and murder, they could thrive only under the cover of complete secrecy.  These men who killed under the impress and in the name of our government often harmed and killed without that approval. When that happened the dishonorable band of brothers rallied to prevent an investigation of even a private blackmail, torture or killing. Crimes were covered up, the truth hidden from view for reasons of national security.
A covert government must in time become the real government of a people believing still in a free democracy and an open system of justice. Alliances made by these secret men must be protected, strengthened and held sacred above the rule of law, beyond the influence of voters or courts. Their oath become oaths to themselves. They must overcome the restrictions of the Constitution and continually weaken and circumvent it.
James Bond and Jason Bourne are mythical spies. The men who lead the covert organizations are not such men of conscience. They are criminals more akin to the organizers of Blackburn and Smirch than to white knight heroes. They recruit now from the ranks of crime families, pirate businessmen and corrupt politicians. They call themselves patriots, while destroying the land.
The Bushes, Cheneys, Hoovers, Kennedys, Hages and congressional old men speak of patriotism, balanced budgets and secure borders. In their hearts, they dream of the oligarchy that is theirs already. They dream of the day when a hireling class will serve them alone.

Call out the Bigots

I've grown more concerned lately with the outrageous power the Dominionists (that what some of us call the extreme right wing Christians who claim to know the will of God on each and every subject, even if God chose not to mention anything about it at all.) The Dominionists have gained a hold within the Republican Party far beyond the power of the population as a whole.
There is a sizable bigot base in America, hating either blacks, Hispanics, Muslims, Jews, gays, bisexuals, transsexuals, women, environmentalists or all of the above. The Dominionists have leagued with these bigots and used fear as their biggest weapon to blame each of these groups for the falling apart of marriage, the economy, and the rise of oil prices, joblessness and the national debt.
They are perfectly willing to destroy the country because they are perfectly willing to blame the  Constitution and its proclamation of freedom for all the woes these claim to see.
I believe it is time to stand up to them in every public venue, calling them the bigots that they actually are. They are the ones who have swallowed the  great lie of Second Thessalonians. They think Jesus who said we should each other and all of our neighbors was mistaken. They would exclude millions who don't fit within their definition of "all right." They are the power hungry who need to put others down to lift themselves higher.
At every church, in every political convention, in every state or federal election, at every town meeting,   we should stand and simply say, my Constitution says, "You are wrong." My God calls you, " a bigot." a "liar," and a "murderer." The people of the United States rebuke you and your doctrines. Go home to Uganda, go home to Jamaica, go home to the lands that have no people yearning to breathe free.

A.E.Brain: DMRT1, FOX and SOX

A.E.Brain: DMRT1, FOX and SOX

Note My Vote

I did not rape you, dear.
I did not rape your husband, or your mother or children
By floating a worthless bond,
Giving you an inflated house loan,
Selling your interests to a corporation,
Sending you job to India or Pakistan.
I wrote this poetic note and spent my time,
hurting no one dear.

At Morning Worship

Scratch a single match, He lights sixteen candles
Seven to each stand and two upon the altar.
So pastor seeks his faith's precise handles.

Let's Flip the societal Clock

The age of consent is too high.  In European and North American cultures of the 20th and 21st centuries, marriages are contracted at age 20 or older. This is an absolutely ridiculous situation caused by the aberration of great wars. In Europe many men were destroyed by the two world wars. Surviving females with children posed a severe threat to the economies of their countries. Legislation was enacted to treat the symptom, single mothers, and not the disease, war. The most common laws restricted the marriage age in an upward fashion by raising the age of consent.  In North America, the Civil War resulted in the same kinds of laws being passed at even earlier dates.
Raising the marriage ages for both men and women did lead to an apparent reduction in single and unwed mothers. Unfortunately the reduction was short lived and most likely the result of an increasing balance of the sexes between and after these major conflicts. Still we are stuck with elevated legal marriage ages.
I said that this situation is ridiculous and here are my reasons.
Both males and females show almost no signs of infertility in their teenage years. Children born to parents, when both are teenagers, show few if any birth defects. But in both females and males there is a marked increase in infertility after the late teens. There have been many studies correlating the age of the parents with the number of birth defects. In every study, the number of birth defects rises significantly in each decade after the late teens. Men, in fact,  will contribute greater numbers of defective sperm and resultant birth defects in their children for each year they age past their teens. Their children will have lower intelligence, more mental illness, retardation and autism. A fertile old man is definitely a danger to society. Younger fathers and mothers are much more beneficial.
Children from the age of twelve show  responsible and mature behavior in societies that grant them adult legal rights. Societies that raise the age of adult legal status experience increased juvenal deliquency and antisocial behaviors in young adults and more problems with older adult social participation.  Many studies have been done that indicate the truth of these statements, although there  is no consensus of why.  It should be obvious that lowering the age of adult responsibility is beneficial to society.
Most education programs in the USA, I am not able to comment on European programs, demonstrate reduced participation by the students during the teenage years. All sorts of explanations are given for the high dropout rates and lowered achievement scores and each generation of teachers has been tasked with improving the curriculum. It is very likely that behaviorally and mentally capable students are negatively affected by being treated as irresponsible children. They simply stop relating to controlling teachers and a repressive environment.
With just these three acknowledgments, I suggest that we as a society give adult rights to twelve year olds with the right to marry. I further suggest that all adults over the age of 25 be required to use condoms and other birth control methods in every sexual encounter.

 

July 6th Journal Entry

On the 4th of July I was floating on the river again. This time in the inflatable that I got from sail boats to go. I was having difficulty rowing and simply could not find a way to sit that would let me use the too small oars. This was not the boats fault but my own as I'll relate in a bit. Anyway, I was having problems when Daddy decided to open up the sky and dump down buckets of new water.
Got to a muddy bank, pulled the boat ashore and started unloading in the rain. I stomped down a patch of stinging nettles, pitched my tent and carried everything inside of it. I even dragged the boat inside the tent and used it as my sleeping mattress.
For most of the day and far into the night the pyrotechnics Daddy put on kept other folk indoors. I woke at about 4am and used some inner hickory bark, a few paper towels and a great deal of puffing breathe to get a fire going. I stretched my fish stringer between trees and hung my clothes up to dry. I went down to the bank, laid broken branches across the oozing mud and walked to the water. I washed my socks and trail running shoes before hanging them up to dry.
I cooked up a meal of beans and nothing else and went looking for raspberries to eat. There were many and if I had needed to stay there I saw that the rabbits had made many trails through the brush. But I did not need to say. At 1pm I reloaded the boat and tied to find a better way to row. No luck at first.
I pulled up on a sand bank and pondered the problem. it finally occurred to me that I may not be  using enough inflation for the boat floor. I blew it up more and it worked much better as I could then use some of my equipment to sit up higher. still the oars were too short for my arm and especially for my less than perfect right shoulder.
Back on the water I moved downstream until I came to the Peppers Ferry bridge crossing. River traffic was forbidden at that point because the bridge was under construction. Two two lane bridges were being built to handle traffic for the Radford Military Arsenal. The river was to remain closed until the end of July. Stymied I rowed back upstream to the Radford Municipal Launch site and unpacked again.
I spent the afternoon and night reading and resting. I called Jammie to ask for a ride home. She came and got me with her mother the next evening.
So here I am back in Wytheville planning to get back on the river after my daughter, Liz has her wedding in August. It is a very good thing that I am in no hurry to complete this journey.

First Sargent of the Marine Corps about DADT Repeal

 At a base in South Korea, Sgt. Major Barrett told Marines 

 “Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution is pretty simple,”  “It says, ‘Raise an army.’ It says absolutely nothing about race, color, creed, sexual orientation.

“You all joined for a reason: to serve,” he continued. “To protect our nation, right?”

“Yes, sergeant major,” Marines replied.

“How dare we, then, exclude a group of people who want to do the same thing you do right now, something that is honorable and noble?” Sgt. Maj. Barrett continued, raising his voice just a notch. “Right?”

Sgt. Maj. Barrett then described conversations with U.K. troops, who saw a similar ban lifted a decade ago, with little disruption. And to drive the point home, he produced a pocket copy of the Constitution.

“Get over it,” he said. “We’re magnificent, we’re going to continue to be. … Let’s just move on, treat everybody with firmness, fairness, dignity, compassion and respect. Let’s be Marines.”

June 17th Journal Entry Wondering why I haven't gone to the river yet?

The past few days have been a time of irritation. My face was swelled out so much my skin felt tight and itchy. Red everywhere except for my forehead, my nose itched and looked like an over large radish attached to a red beach ball. I dreaded putting a razor to my face and decided not to one day. Thanks for reminding me that tiny golden hairs sprouting from a beach ball do not unmake a woman and bring negative attention near as much as the red beach ball all by itself.
I purchased antihistamine and went to the doctor's when the swelling in my throat became worrisome. I applied cortisone  twice a day as instructed and was glad that the itch moderated. Now, my face still itches but the swelling has gone down and the redness is lightening to sunburn pink.
During this swelling time I tried to stay at home and out of sight, but found I was very uncomfortable doing so. At first, I attributed this discomfort to the itch and to worry that I looked so bad that I did not want anyone to see me. But as time passed I recognized the falsity of these explanations.  I was antsy not because of the itch. I was uncomfortable because I was not interacting,  in communication, sharing with anyone but you. You are alright, but you have to admit that most of our conversations are one-sided. I talk and you listen. You show and I see. You hardly ever talk and I hardly ever show.
When I am with other folks, I spend much time listening and much time showing. I was missing that people centered dynamic. Because I missed that interaction I slipped into analyzing mode, and started wondering why I missed that kind of people sharing. Why?
I remember that I have a very high need to be loving. That doesn't mean I need to be loved much, but I need to be expressing love and caring to be happy. That's part of my genetic make up, something I can not change and don't ever want to change. When my father tried to use killing my pets and beating the snot out of my mother against me, I reached out to protect and care even more. Although I have a more than average need for freedom, that kicks in whenever I experience some one's attempts to control me, I still need always to find ways to help people.

May 28th Journal Entry

Just thoughts.
People strive to know who they are. We analyze our actions, recall memories, learning to anticipate our own feelings. We say, "that is so like me" or  "I wasn't always like this."
What does it feel like not to have the memories needed to form a knowledge of self? It feels vaguely wrong. It is not acutely painful. I suppose a global temporary amnesia would bring sharp pain. But long-term amnesia has no sharp edges. It irritates like a pea under the mattress.
Live with such amnesia for years and it will not cause a sharp pain, even when you discover that the story of your life told by your parents is full of holes and falsehoods. You have learned to live with not knowing. I got past the need to dig for the truth, to fill the gaps, to know myself.
It was better to live in an imaginary world, with an imaginary history. My parents needed to protect themselves with whatever stories they could weave to cover themselves. The least i could dow was to pretend belief, allowing them to feel safe. That is so like me.

May 27th Journal Entry

Friday. I have no freedom, never have had any, possibly I will never have freedom. How can I say such a thing when I live in the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Each and every string of proteins, near proteins, string of amino acids, and every seemingly random grouping of carbon and many non-carbon atoms draw together into clusters. The whole universe seems  drawn into clusters. Altruistic motions and behaviors always arise. The whole of reality strives toward union with and combination with each part, all of its parts. Freedom as a concept implies some form of independence. Such independence may have existed in the instant before the first Big Bang, but it is not present anywhere now.
Daddy, even if you did not exist in that pre-bang instant, you are destined to exist in the future. The evolving, clustering, thinking, sharing cosmos must form you. Daddy, if you did exist then and decreed the tremendous Bang then all that is is destined to form another like you. You and she will then think, share and become one.
In that I am a part of your creation, loved by you, nurtured by you and drawn always toward sharing, I will indeed become (somewhere in time and space) your bride. We will be one and right now we are one. I am not free, in that I am not independent, I do not wish to be.
Daddy, I love you, always, even when I think I can run away.

June 14th Journal Entry

I have been home for more than ten days. I stayed for Devon's funeral on Thursday and thought I would be moving on the river by now. On the 12th my next started to swell just a bit and I had an itch at the corner of my mouth. I asked Lorrie if she could see any swelling and she could not. During the night my face keep on itching and the itch spread. By 4am  on the 13th my face was bright red from my chin to my eye sockets. I walked to Counts Pharmacy in the morning and bought some diphenhydramine thinking that an antihistamine would help stifle my allergic reaction. No such luck.
That afternoon I walked to the pharmacy and purchased some calamine lotion to dry the weeping of my facial skin. My face had started to swell and my neck started to itch. The drying calamine lotion over the reddened skin marks me like an Australian bushman. That evening I could hardly read because of the irritation of my eyes.
Today the swelling has gone on growing in spite of two thorough face scrubbings and extra shower that I hoped would remove any allergens that had contaminated my hair.  Now, my throat has swollen and I am starting to worry that this skin irritation might be quite serious. Lorrie thinks I should see a doctor this evening, but I will try to hold off until morning.
The weather has been warm and dry and I wish I was back floating. Hey, daddy, I think I need help again.

May 24th Journal Entry

I spent Monday walking, sometimes in the rain, sometimes in the sun. I went to the library, to the U-Haul rental place and to the Dollar General store. Along the way I bought coffee and chocolate. What more could I want?
Today, i started up to the bank hoping to get some money so Lorrie could buy gasoline. I took a bag of aluminum can along for recycling. The heavens split on my way home from recycling. I had turned around and forgone the bank when the first drizzling started.  My, by the time I reached the library, running and dodging under trees and awnings, I was soaked. The temperature dropped ten degrees in less than an hour.
I made it home during a storm lull, jumping streams flowing against and over the sidewalks. Mikey came home after the rain and I got a ride to the bank. During the afternoon, the temperatures climbed above 80 degrees and dropped hard as two ominous clouds passed to the northeast. The storm top anvil was towering and building on one.
Sprinkling now and more rain coming. Good by, sleep well.

May 22nd Journal Entry

The sun shown all day Saturday. The weather was very warm, and not too humid. I talked and talked, first to Bess, then to Nun, with the mailman and with Eric. Lovely day, Thanks!
I strolled to the Lutheran Church in a light, variable breeze this morning. The wind was smooth on my face. Four people without being asked said, I should not be floating for a while. Two worried about flood waters overflowing the Mississippi Valley. One thought the thunderstorm warning with 2 and 3 inch hail should be keeping me at home.
I had a fine time singing and Pastor Steve said I should stay around a while. On the walk home I thought about all that these people had said and about similar remarks made by folks at the Farmers' Market yesterday. Seems you are telling me to wait. I'll hold on at home for another week.
Lots of rain this afternoon. One burst put an inch of water on the ground in less than 20 minutes. Lorrie brought chicken home and the across-the-street neighbors had a dispute going that involved the police. A not boring day.
Good night, Lord.

May 19th Journal Entry

A warm shower this morning, a dry blanket, and I feel better. But I also feel like a wimp. I had to come home, when I might have been able to wait out the rain for a few more days. I will be thinking about this. I don't want to quit. I want to go on. I will be going back with much less clothing, bedding and cooking gear. The eleven foot raft will have much less room. I will need to make changes in my cooking style, more aluminum foil, more fish, and lots of fruits. No cans, a pot for boilings, peanut butter, vitamins. No underwear bottoms, because I will be peeing while afloat.
Still, I need people. I talk with them, hug and share with them. Can you arrange this, dear? I know the journey is the right thing to do. A test of courage, a trial by fire, perhaps? I know this is right, but I have nothing to prove. You are with me no matter what. You will bless me with joy always, even when I starve and freeze, if my bed is afloat.
I will not know the reason until this journey ends, continues, ends. I will continue. I will end it later. I will think about this more.

March 18th Journal Entry

Wednesday, Again, I waited for the rain to stop. It took a lot of effort to get a fire started. Its good that I do not make large fires. I had to walk 1/4 mile to find a dead, still standing fir tree. I stripped dry bark slabs adn filled them with shredded inner bark. I used this to start the fire and make a small bed of coals. I called Jammie to ask for a ride home later. I can not stay out here and be this damp and cold. I will take my bedding home to dry it.
Gosh, I was cold last night on a wet futon mattress, under wet blankets. Even though I bundled up in a track warm-up suit, two pairs of socks and a sweater, I was cold.
I have walked all the trails in the State Park. I imagine that it really is time to leave here. Maybe by Saturday my raft will come. I'll launch from this dock are, cross the lake and then short portage around the dam. But it is more likely, I will exit the Interstate at exit 105 and launch from the Little River launch ramp. I will miss two miles of the lake, but I will not have to carry everything. Maybe Sunday or Monday if the raft comes from Jim Luckett by slow express.
Some sun! A mixed day now. I returned the red worms to the ground, packed all my things, wrapping everything in plastic as the rain began again.
Loaded up when Jammie came. She said I should stay in Wytheville until Lorrie's baby comes. Then I can be Auntie Dawn. I am not sure that is a good idea. I feel I should be letting Mikey and Lorrie have some space and a house for their own. I will go to check on assisted housing, but I don't expect much.
Good night, Daddy. Let me know if I am wrong.

May 17th Journal Entry

Woke up to rain. Waited till a bit past 5am to head over to the shower in the dark. The rain had slowed to a drizzle then. By the time I shaved my legs and face the rain was striking the ground hard. I hurried under the awning to the lavatory, brushed my teeth and took my pills. I am running low on estrodol. I will need to go to the pharmacy soon.
At 7am the rain slowed enough for me to return to my tent and to cook some oatmeal. At 8am another short break in the rain allowed me to ask when my check would be sent to the bank. I was told, tomorrow, so I should avoid more overdraft charges.
At 9;30 the rain paused. I walked down the Popular Leaf Trail at 10am. I found wild strawberries and scattered some seeds around. I flipped leaves over and found a dozen red worms in 5 times as many tries. Not bad.
I returned to my campsite and rearranged the draping of my rain-fly so the tent could air out. My mattress and blankets were when I came back to camp last night. I took the bamboo to the lake and soon caught three fish on the red worms, two bluegill and one pumpkin. I had to stop fishing in the middle to take cover from another short rain.
Back at camp, I used the last of my dry wood to cook the fish and another serving of oatmeal. It did not rain for an hour and a half. Having put the rain-fly back on properly, I rite this while listening to more rain splatter on the tent. There are two small leaks on thoroughly saturated seams, that keep on dripping water. I am damp and cold, Daddy. Could you give the sun a chance tomorrow?
Good night, dear.

May 16th Journal Entry

My laundry is dry and folded. I am reading and warming leftovers that have been in the refrigerator since last week. Packed all that I am taking back with me in black garbage bag. Curtis the cat immediately marked the bag saying "this is mine not yours." At least, he missed the clothes and only hit the outside of the plastic.
I cut flowers today and filled the vases, setting some in each room. Read some, answered my email and now wait for Jammie to take me back to the campground.  She got me back here at around 7pm. I put things away in time for another rain shower. Jammie had told me on the way back that the weatherman was predicting five more days of rain for this week.
Good night Lord.

May 16th Journal Entry

My laundry is dry and folded. I am reading and warming leftovers that have been in the refrigerator since last week. Packed all that I am taking back with me in black garbage bag. Curtis the cat immediately marked the bag saying "this is mine not yours." At least, he missed the clothes and only hit the outside of the plastic.
I cut flowers today and filled the vases, setting some in each room. Read some, answered my email and now wait for Jammie to take me back to the campground.  She got me back here at around 7pm. I put things away in time for another rain shower. Jammie had told me on the way back that the weatherman was predicting five more days of rain for this week.
Good night Lord.

May 15th Journal Entry

Rained so hard the day I left... All night long, everything is wet outside of these cloth walls. I walked to the shower house with tiny streams rolling beside me. Even more coming back. I will need to go back for grooming later, but I am hoping you'll show me a piece of blue sky first.
You did! I went to the docks and back. I am now sorting stuff. Some I will load onto the raft when it comes, the rest I will store in the house basement in Wytheville. Stopping that now because it is raining again. Found that several strings of my seeds ans seed pod jewelry had started to mold. Guess, I'll be using plastic and wood only on the rest of the trip.
The rain stopped just long enough to cook lunch. It took a lot of scurrying through the woods to find enough dry kindling, tipping rotting logs and rubbing sloughing bark. Twice gusting wind shook my sheltering oats to rain big droplets on the barely started fire. Poof and start over. But it did get done.
Jamie is coming to get me maybe? I have most of my equipment sorted, but I have had no text of call from her about when she can come here. Most of the time, today, I have had only one reception bar on my cellphone. Oh, well.
Jammie called at five and said she would be here at 6pm. I recon I can sleep on my memory foam mattress tonight. When she came I loaded two totes of clothes and papers into her pickup. There is also a bag of laundry. She told me that she had forgotten about getting me until after her second job. She told me that Lorrie and Mike were on their way home from Puerto Rico. They had an exciting trip.
We unloaded my stuff at the basement door and Jammie said she could not come in. I dried the white quilt which had bee dripped on and started doing my laundry. I fried sliced potatoes for supper.
Mike and Lorrie made it home at 9pm. They were tired, from too many activities and had not rested on the cruise. Still, they were sun-kissed. They went right to bed, they must work on Monday.
Night, daddy.

May 14th Journal Entry

Saturday, May 14th. Woke up before 10 pm as three motorbikes pulled up in site C-12. I promised the three me dry wood from my tent in the morning as it was raining hard. Came back to bed.
Up at 4am, reading by lantern light (electric battery of course), until the sun made gray in the sky. I built a fire for my neighbors when I heard them begin to stir. A three snore so it was easy to tell.
John Hodd and a co-worker came my with a pickup at 7am. We drove down to the docks to load the canoes. John decided he would need to separate the hulls to load them. He will bring tools tomorrow.
I hitched a ride to Walmart with them bought some fruit and condensed milk. Then walked to the Interstate ramp to hitchhike back. I came back to camp just as the three motor bikers were leaving. We waved to each other and I started unpacking my loot. As I approached my picnic table, i noticed that the bikers had left me an egg, some gummy bears and a baggy of granola bars. I really appreciate their gifts.
I scrambled the egg, sliced in green pepper and had my breakfast. I walked down after to the docks to fish. I bought 20 night crawlers and used one to catch some sunfish. I then emptied the container on some fallen oak leaves on my way back to camp. I trust you will multiply this start and have night crawlers all over the park in two years. This ground could use more aeration to control run-off with all this rain.
I climbed up the hill with my pole and the fish swinging behind me. I was going to cook the fish immediately, but I had to wait for another rain to pass by. The fish were still delicious after a half hour wait.
Don and Marion are going to visit cousins this evening and say they will bring me more oatmeal when they come home. They did. I had just buttoned up the tent, putting everything undercover except firewood. You did not let any of it get  un-damp today. The moon is hiding tonight behind more rain clouds. It is pouring rain.
I have kept a bed of coals going with wood stacked over them, so some could dry. If it rains this hard much longer there will be no dry wood in the morning. Well, it will tamp down the fire index and lets the park sell bundles of banded firewood. It will also give those night crawlers a chance to settle in.
Blessings, dear, and good night. Reading then I will snuggle down.

May 13th, Friday Journal Entry.

Good morning, dear. It is shortly after 6am. I am clean and I have a soup can to heat water in. It did not rain much last night against my expectations. High humidity and warm, the sky still rumbles.
The park staff will be arriving soon. I have one night neighbors, Don and Jennifer from Massachusetts on their way home from Florida. I made them a small fire this morning but let it go out after it had dried them some wood for later. If they want a fire, they may lay some tinder and have near instant coziness.
My friend the woodpecker i, he is large and mostly black, is tatting away. The raven caw and a bird I cannot see kerloos. . Less humid today than yesterday.
I let Don know how to restart their fire when they got up, but Don said they were going to leave quickly. Harrisburg is not far but they are meeting friends there. When they come back from the showers I will give them direction if they need them.
Another bird has shouted Karroo and squirrels have started their morning barking. The sound like tiny teacup Chihuahuas. A dark backed, cream breasted, red headed flicker, woodpecker, is climbing tree after tree from bottom to top. I thought the doe might pass by this morning. She hasn't.
Told tales to Don and Jennifer before they left. Jennifer told me that Cape Cod is becoming a LGBT mecca. I'll check as I pass by.  The park staff are coming in. They turn for the employee only area.
Going for a walk down the Lake Trail, back soon. Walked that way and started back on the Popular Leaf Trail, which passed a burn from last year. I turned off onto the Bent Tree Trail. Did a few feet on the ground pull-ups, beginner's level and then rejoined the Popular Leaf Trail to come back to C-11. A nice walk. Met a rust colored, but brighter, three inch long lizard. He looked to have a tiny black beak, but it may have been a half-swallowed beetle. I did not pick him up to find out. I did not want to risk hurting him. I'll wander over and down to the visitors' center in an hour to discover his name and lineage.
Jon Hodd will be by at 7am tomorrow to pick up the canoes. Maybe I can get a ride from him on Monday into Wytheville?
I have been paddling, exploring in long skirts. When they get wet, I have a time getting into and out of the boats. I trap the material under my knees. I pull it up but then the scars and scuffs on my legs would show. Shame, thy name is woman.
I had a bit of dead bird on a hook tied to my 25 foot long bamboo. This morning a Green Sunfish was on the hook. She was excellent for lunch. Plopped her right down on the gum wood coals. Flipped her over when hear tail fin  curled. Just a hair longer on the other side. Scales and skin stay on the coals and I used a fork to flake sweet white flesh from the bones. After lunch I took some of her entrails (That's how I know it was a she)put them on hooks and walked down to the docks to try catching another fish. I've walked five miles today. I'll have over seven before evening.
I could use the extra meal as I am running low on food again. One serving of oatmeal, several bananas, two apples and one pound of easy melt cheese will last until Monday.  State Park rules forbid the harvesting of any kind of plant or animal except fish. So fishes beware I will catch you.
Another flicker with a long beak flew up. He is gray breasted, yellow-cream on the belly with brown on the back and head. He looked me over and inspected the tree that the black woodpecker likes. He flew off for other parts.
I searched through by purse and found 22 dollars that I did not know I had. I am flush! If I get a ride to town tomorrow I can buy more oatmeal and some canned vegetables. I can also pay for another day here. My SS check should deposit so I will be able to stay until my rubber raft arrives. Kim or Mikey can take my extra clothing and equipment back to Wytheville. I'll go on without another break in the journey.
I wonder if I can find a church service somewhere close? I'll ask at the visitors' center. Feeling anxious about still being here, even though I am in no hurry. How dumb is that, daddy? I guess it comes from having appointments to keep all my working life. I'll try to relax. Maybe, its because I discovered money? Poisonous, insidious money.
Tons of people will be here on Saturday. Because today is Friday, the thirteenth, not many campers are arriving. Well, here come more rain. Going inside my tent. Bye, daddy.

May 12th Journal Entry.

Good morning! I listened for the rain to stop for a couple of hours. I doze under my blankets and then wake up to more thunder and lightening. The storm has passed or is at least in temporary remission so I am hurrying down to my morning toilet. Back.
There is no dry wood in the neighborhood so I'll happily munch a banana and an apple for breakfast. I left the Dean Koontz book I had finished on the picnic table last evening. It is drying inside the tent along with me. A woodpecker is finding grubs with a ta-ta-ta-ta-tak. We will be breaking fast together. By the way, the camp hosts are the Youngs, not the Williams. I misremembered. Don and Marion Young.
I covered the picnic bench with a plastic bag, made a brunch of oatmeal and decided to head for the docks. I have been reading and listening to rain for a few more hours.
I paddled over to the rental cabin docks and tried to sail back. Not good. I need a daggerboard according to a photographer, who once sailed his own 20 foot boat. We talked about fetch and other things that I had to ask explanation for and why.
I came up to the campsite at 1:30 and ate more oatmeal. I'll be going back down with a plastic tote lid for a daggerboard. I must find a way to seal the front edge of the folded pain cloth I use for my sail. Maybe I can find some tape for that? The opening fills and acts like a brake.
Got the daggerboard in place, but did not seal the front edge of the sail. Did bail out the boats with an empty plastic pop bottle. Set a bit of dead baby bird on a hook and left the bamboo pole and line in the water. Maybe a fish come morning?
I put two of the gum log pieces that don't burn well on top of my little oak oatmeal fire. i am cooking now with a can I recycled from the dumpster near the dock. The logs may smolder all night so there will be coals at 4am. Just in case this doesn't work, I put dry twigs in the tent. Once again I can see more rain coming. Tonight I'll bring in my still damp running shoes and two skirts. I hope not to leave any books outside.
Wind is gusting, thunder rubbing against the hills. Time to pick up. Kim called today, during her lunch break. She is working at Gatorade. Her wife (girlfriend?), passed out this week and the hospital doctors suspect multiple brain lesions. Not a fun report. Please get to fixing, sir.
One of the neat, but annoying things about living in the forest, dear, is the leaves and creatures that land in my water cup. Just heard a roar from the sky, like a male lion announcing his intent to defend the pride. All is undercover, two gum logs are wedged together.
I went back out and put another gum log on the other two, that may last. Saw a doe moving through the forest. She stopped to look at me before deciding I was not a threat. She slipped slowly until she disappeared into the brush. It is time for the does to drop their fawns. The does leave each other in the way of Whitetails and now travel solitary. I hope she does well.
I noticed that the campground sign map is a mirror of what it should be. The D campground is shown to the north instead of the south. The marked trails shown going in the wrong directions. Walked a little as the wind builds. Mosquitoes found me in every wind shelter. I am smorgasbord. I will go back in the tent now. Some of them are as fat as I am.
Good night, Father.

May 11 Journal Entry

Rumi, the poet, calls you Beloved and i call you father or daddy. Both of us know your love and how you always come to find us when we hide in sorrow or pride. I used the present tense for both of us and you know why.
Watched the park employees driving out of the maintenance area on their way home last night. Lots of waving to each one. Two days here and I spread a bit of joy. Thank you daddy for the day, for friends, for dry kindling, for oatmeal and a can to cook it in, for being our beloved.
Took off for Dublin and found myself at a little convenience store just outside the park entrance. I waited for30 minutes until it opened. Discovered that they carried only cakes, cookies, candy and beer. Not exactly a good diet.
I walked up the next hill, passing a dead possum and a sign announcing Lupine Lane. Just over the rise I came to the junction with Dunkard's Road. I always read drunkards first when I see the word on a map. That road runs down to a hollow that was originally named Dunker's Hollow. Oh, the things you can learn by reading tourist bulletins.
I had just crossed the road when two pickups passed me by and then a woman coming from the other direction stopped. She asked where i was going, turned around and gave me a ride into Dublin. She took me right to the Walmart store by the back roads instead of the Interstate, so I would know the way to walk and hitchhike back.
I purchased some fruit and cheese, a pound of marked down hamburger and walked out the door. Surprise, there was the lady, whose name was Janet. Bless her, father. She teaches health as a professor at Johnston College in the Roanoke area. She gave me a ride all the way back to the park entrance.
I had a breakfast of hamburger patties, the whole pound. I was on my way to the dock to rig a mast and sail by 11am. The fire wood had taken some convincing to burn, mainly because of last night's hail and rainstorm. By 3pm I had a rig in place. The boats were bailed out, but I lost my oatmeal cooking/bailing can right at the end. It slipped from my fingers and sank. The water is 8 feet deep at the docks so I did not strip down to go fetch it. Much to public also.
It looked like another storm was building, so I set the sail in line with the length of the boats, tied it well and walked home, to my campsite. Last night before sleeping I called Jim Luckett of Instant Sailboat and arranged for an inflatable to be shipped after my Social Security check comes. i am getting a slightly used, slightly larger, but well patched 11 foot raft with stout oars. He will send a sail kit for it when I reach Bluestone Lake in West Virginia.
Resting now after gathering more dead-fall wood for the morning fire. I hope this wood burns hot enough to dry the gumwood the park folk brought me. The camp hosts for this section pulled in today. i thought they were trying to take a huge camper trailer down a very narrow roadway and hurried to stop them. But they were only setting to pull into the host site right by the shower house.
They have been hosts at this location for the past ten years. The Williams couple live in Rhode Island and she is a non-Hodgkin's cancer survivor. I will be talking more with them.
Life is good. Calling some of my kids tonight. Kay sent me a picture of the snow-covered street in front of her house.  Snow in Wyoming and thunderstorm in Virginia. Bye Jesus, night Daddy.

May 10th Journal Entry

It is Tuesday and I have no idea where one day disappeared. My phone calendar claims Tuesday should be the 10th of May. Good morning Lord. The day promises to be filled with adventure. Dew on the ground and chocolate bar wrapping paper spread under and around the picnic table. here at site C-11 the blackbirds and ravens like chocolate. They pecked into my plastic bag and took out my one and only candy bar. They ate it without a thank you or a by your leave. They did not even clean up the wrappings.
I picked up and started my fire with the wrapping for fire starter. I cooked up a can of oatmeal. I suppose I need to walk to a store in Dublin later. The map shows it to be just shy of 4 miles. The hike will firm my thighs and help me to grow curvy and svelte.
I found a Geo-treasure capsule stashed in a tree that has three joining trucks next to this site. I added a cigarette lighter and a note about this journey. Walked to the visitors' center and then back here to do laundry in the shower. Step and stomp while shampooing my hair and I have a double use of the soap and water. My cable knit sweater is drying on the table, properly blocked at site C-12.  I chose this site for its shade, rain and wind shelter. That one has sunshine and a breeze.
I could go down to the lake as there is a breeze and I could try sailing, but I would rather walk into town. No, I think I will wait until morning. Trees need to be stripped of squaw wood for fire tinder. There appears to be another storm coming.
I have been picking up mostly dry branches and breaking dry dead ones off of trees. I wandered over to campground A, no one is at B. A is closed but the hosts Don and Lynne Carpenter are in site A-1. They have been in retirement for two whole weeks.
They have four children and seven grandchildren, with another due in June. Lynne leave in the morning for the Carolinas to pick up two of her grandchildren. The youngsters are 8 and 4. Don worked for the Navy and is a military brat grown after being in eleven schools in twelve years.
As I flipped my drying sweater over on the C-1 table some of the conservation workers came to cut down a dead and leaning tree a short distance away. I asked if I could pick up some of the dead branches after the tree fell. In a short while they brought over some logs cut to firewood size. We talked about the troubles in Africa.
I pointed out that the people there were like our pioneers with automatic weapons, and that we were not civilized enough ourselves to criticize their actions. I said that only a hundred years ago here bride price  in the form of a dowry was common. Henry, my son-in-law's, grandfather offered me hundreds of goats when Henry proposed to Heather. We should be patient and not upset and angry when we don't see life the same way. it is not our place to judge others by our standards.
I have enough oatmeal for today and the morning, so I will have to walk to a store in the morning after the rain. Most of the clothes I washed have dried, so it is time to fold them. Maybe when I get back from Dublin, I can go sailing. But right now, I will get the kindling, wood and my books under cover. The sky is rumbling as if it had eaten a plateful of garlic sauce. I will go over to the shower house for a jug of fresh water and call it a day. Thank you, Daddy.

March 8th Journal Entry

up at 6am. Ate some corn chips for breakfast as that was all i had in the tent. Drank the last of my water and began loading. I watched the Blue Devil's racing crew stroke by on their skull. I launched and immediately made for the far side of the river. There was no wind and lots of near water mist.
The lake is 3/4 of a mile wide here. On the far bank the water was covered with a fine yellow pollen that shimmered in the sunlight. No current fought  my progress and I passed cliffs high enough to climb and dive. They were posted with signs saying don't.
By 8am I passed the first State owned boating docks fronting rental cabins. I had come to the State Park. I went ashore and walked over to a Mr. and Mrs. Miner who were fishing from one of the docks. There were other people walking by on groomed  paths. The Miners were staying in one of the rental cabins as a Christmas present from their children.
As they fed the fish worm on hooks, not on plates, Mrs. Minor told me that they farmed up by Bluefield, West Virginia. She told me how to find the marina so off I went. i paddled around a swimming beach, then passed some more housing and turned left into the marina. I parked my boats at an empty slip and began walking toward the boat ramp.
There I spoke with a long skinny policeman, who thinks his job is great.  he told me how to get to the visitors' center so i could check in. I paid for seven nights here and Kelly the office manager ranger told me I could leave my boats in slip B 16. At this time of year each night in the primitive campground costs $21. I paid with my card, expecting to be charged and overdraft fee by my bank.
There was a Yard Master wheelbarrow at the top of the boat ramp. People use it to take their possessions from their cars to their boats down on the docks. I loaded part of my stuff onto it and pulled it uphill, of course, to the campground. It is only 3/4th of a mile, but it is a hard pull up a steep hill. I made three trips and was dreading making more when the thin patrolman was called down to the dock to turn on the gas pump for a stranded boater. He said he would find me some help.
I unloaded the cart in the parking lot and filled it again with the last load. i had just returned to the first pile when two conservation workers pulled up in their pickup truck. We loaded up and in ten minutes unloaded everything at my campsite. We talked for a few minutes about my trip. As they left, I began putting things away. At 3:30pm I had moved in.
Tired, but happy, I found clean clothes, a musty towel and shampoo. Off I went to the showers. There is wonderful hot water, daddy. In less than five seconds, hot water is coming out of the shower head. This is neat.
After, I washed the towel and my dirty clothes in the slop sink in back of the shower house. They are hanging on the bushes and trees drying now. I cooked two cans of oatmeal, wrote this and am ready for bed. I am the only camper in this section of the campground. 8pm, no rain. Good night. 

May 7th Journal Entry

As I turned in last night I went out again to the boat dock. I untied and moved the canoes under the dining area overhang that shelters the boat fueling pumps. I tied up again as the storm broke. Only one boat will fill with water this way. I was damp going to bed but most of my equipment stayed dry.
At 4am I crawled out of bed and started putting everything in the tent under the overhang. I had promised  the cashier that I would be on my way by 6am. I took down my tent and folded it under the same protection. The rain kept falling until 8am.
I untied the boats and dragged them up onto the shore so I could bail them out. A gentleman named John Hodd came under the awning to fish and I mentioned that I would be giving these boats away to children after I learned to said on Claytor Lake. Donnie Turner had told me that I could not make it across the next set of rapids with them.
John offered to buy them for his 16 year old, but I insisted on giving them away. We compromised with him buying me a sandwich and coffee for breakfast. I will call him in about a week and he will come to get the boats at Claytor Lake State Park. He helped me launch and continued fishing as I paddled away under the bridge.
Passed a few osprey which I did not know lived in this area and a set of people fishing beside a van. i tried to stay on the right hand side of the river as it had looked the shortest way on my map. At lunchtime, the sun had come out and I entered a cove fed by two very slow moving creeks. I tied off and sat on the bank eating two handfuls of corn chips. I talked briefly to two ladies in their bass boat who had entered the cove to fish. They told me that the State Park was still four miles ahead.
The wind came up, pushing me away from the right bank. As I struggled to get closer, i noticed that the debris on the water was actually moving upstream. A return current had started because of the recent flood waters entering the lake. I was fighting against wind and current.
So i let the wind push me away from the bank and out of the current. Using the kayak paddle I stroked mightily. The action made drips fall inside the center hull and I bailed once each hour with my trusty, oatmeal cooking,  corn can. Flattened at the lip it makes a good bailer.
Unfortunately, whenever I stopped to bail the reverse current, now forty feet wide, took me upstream, not far but enough to show I was still meeting resistance. I moved back against the shoreline and tried to stay sheltered by boat docks, ramps and rock ledges as I paddled downstream.
At last, my shoulder cried, "that's enough." I happened to be between two yard in an area that appeared to be forest and untended. I pulled in and set the stern of the boat up on a few small floating logs. They sank under the weight to the bottom and gave me a stepping platform to unload my equipment.
I set up camp on a road bed that had grown up with vegetation. My bedding was wet from the water I had dripped into the boats while paddling and from the wakes of passing motor boats. These wakes had rocked me all day. It was early  so I hung my bedding on trees to dry and tied the boats so they faced into the river. I hoped all the wake waves would pass under the bows and that the logs under the stern would dampen the slap of the waves on shore.
I went to bed while the sun was setting, reading "Cold Fire" by Dean Koontz. As I lay there the earth beneath my back kept rocking as the boats had done that day.  Good night, daddy.

May 6th Journal Entry

I packed up my tent and gear, laying damp clothing on top of the stowed cargo. Then I ate two apples for breakfast and started. Just after untying i spoke with a gentleman who has been fishing this river since the sixties. That's fifty years on the same waters. He told me which tiny fish, bream, could be caught and then used for bait to catch the bigger catfish. He would be taking his fishing boat downstream to the Lowman Ferry Road bridge. He was going to fish in the shallow water next to the deep channels for blue catfish.
We wished each other your blessings and then I crossed the river on a bend to stay in the main currents. The river is slowing as it nears the body of the lake. I found a 25 foot long bamboo floating near the shore where a small creek entered the river. I paddled and cut away at the tiny branches until I had a long green pole. Maybe it can be a fishing pole?
Made good time until the wind began to blow in my face. I crossed under the Hiwassee railroad trestle, which is part of the New River Trail State Park. This is where the trail leaves the river and heads toward Pulaski.
By the time I could see the Lowman Ferry bridge, both white and rust dark, in the distance my arms were sore and my right shoulder ached. I slowed down and drifted by the largest house I had seen on the river. So much glass looked out across the water, I bet it is dazzling in the morning light. The man mowing the huge yard said a large thunder storm was coming. I double stroked with the kayak paddle until I came to the boat landing at the Shop-Ez store where State Road 672 crosses the New River. I tied up and went in to ask where I could camp.
I bought a hamburger and went to the back of the store where a dining area looks out over the river. Lo and behold, there was Jim, the eighty year old gentleman who had given me a much needed ride on Thursday. He and his friend, a Mr. Williams, who had grown up with him, were working out a scramble puzzle. Jim was trying to convince Mr. Williams that the answer was a pun using furlong instead of "for long."
I went back to the cash register to ask permission to camp there as Jim said there was no other place for more than two miles ahead. The young clerk, an eagle scout, gave me permission and so i set up camp just as it was darkening to night.
Jim came out of the store and sat in his pickup, talking a while before going to see his girlfriend. Every once in a while he would load the sling shot he had made from a maple branch with a sinker and try to shot a blackbird. He never came close to hitting it, not even close enough to frighten it.
I went up to the store at 9:30 to use the ladies' room and at 10pm the skies cracked open like they were draining your bathtub. I wind blew rain under the vent and it leaked right above this notebook lying on the floor. That's why the pages have curled over. Put on my Coaltown Dixie shirt and went to sleep.

May 5th Journal Entry

In the afternoon I rented a car from Enterprise and drove Alexa to the Bland Clinic. I spent the morning getting warm while Lorrie and Mikey were at work. I rented the car because my friend Kim who had promised to come fetch me yesterday, was not answering her phone then or today.
Alexa was having her blood tested and also needed to have a regular prescription for hormones and blockers. She has been self-medicating for two years. She has been presenting as a woman for five years.
Alexa is a very brave soul, she has been doing everything necessary toward surgery since she turned 14. She has been adamant and out in a town so rural it is named Rural Retreat. She has face down bigots and made friends. Strangely, she has never learned how to drive. She tells me here mother drives too fast and scary. He father in his seventies does not pay enough attention to the road.
The Enterprise folk gave me a ride back to Allisonia when i turned in the car. I put the tent up in the "no camping area," after checking with a lawn mowing neighbor just downstream.  Good night, Father.

May 4th Journal Entry

Up early, showered again as I may not get warm water for sometime. Oatmeal and an apple for breakfast. It took a long time to get the fire started as all the wood was soaked by last night's hard rain. I was slightly ready for it, so my clothes were dry inside Mr. Turner's tepee.
I bailed the rain water from the boats. The bolts and 2 by 4's held up well in the wind and the rising water. I packed bedding, clothing, books and rope into the sterilite boxes and put these into the boats. Using some of the leftover 2 by 4's, I levered the boats from the ramp into a full float.
At 9am Donnie and his friends came down to fall a tree that had been mostly uprooted by last week's tornado and the high flood waters. 70 or 80 feet of old white maple. It was a sorry cutting up of so great a forest beast. I used the toilet and wrote a check for my rent to Mr. Turner and then returned to my boats to resume my journey.
I traveled quickly as the river dropped down class 1 and 2 rapids. It was not hard to glide between sandbars and islands. The closer arrangement of the hulls was easier to steer. I could stand up because of the stability of this narrow trimaran, so seeing which line to take through the rapids was easy.
The wind came up at 1pm and slowed my forward motion to a crawl. Nasty looking clouds, like just healing bruises, started blocking the sun. A real pisser of a storm was building. I went ashore on a sandy bank and tied my boats to a tree about fifteen feet uphill. The map told me that this was Allisonia. I knocked on doors along the street and on the street behind. I was seeking permission to set up my tent on the beach, but the whole little town appeared to be somewhere else that afternoon.
I walked back to the boats and found that I had tied to a tree on posted land. There was a sign on the chain link boundary that could be read only from the street side. I untied, pushed off, and poled along the shoreline fighting against the freshening wind. In 3/4 of a mile I came to a public boat ramp. Thank you, father.
There were signs prohibiting camping, but I tied up to a tree anyway. As I turned away the eye-bolt that held the rope to the bow of the trimaran tore loose from the thin plywood bow plate. The rope on the tree was not holding the boats anymore and they were leaving with my clothes, my purse and everything else. I waded into the water and caught a hull just as the water reached my armpits.
leaning back against the current I hauled the boats back to the boat ramp and ran the line back through the plywood in the hole left by the departing eye-bolt. Dragging the boat sideways through the water let water flow over the side of one hull and my clothing was wet again.  I had no dry clothing to put on.
So I rung out my socks, put on dry tennis shoes, picked up my tent, and one blanket.  I shouldered my purse and started walking towards home. Only 33 miles to go, i hoped to find a campsite or to thumb a ride.
Cars passed, many cars passed, but none stopped. No one was home at the houses I approached seeking permission to camp in a backyard. After I had gone 1 and 1/2 miles I stashed my tent and blanket and placed my hopes on getting a ride. I walked to the Hiwassee Post Office and asked the Postmistress the distance to Interstate 81. She said I would need to go 4 miles to the Lowman
Ferry Road and then five more miles along it to the interstate. Thanking her, I walked, putting out my thumb and walking backwards when ever a car passed my way.
I had walked 9 miles from Allisonia when an 80 year old gentleman stopped and gave me a ride into Pulaski. He let me off at the Hardee's restaurant. I ordered a sandwich, fries and a small drink. Then I called Mikey. For the first time since I left the river water, I had a phone dry enough to work. Mikey promised to come and get me. After an hour I warmed up enough to start shivering. I had gotten cold enough to stop shivering at mile five. Very, very cold, dear.

May 3rd Journal Entry

Donne came down from his house on the hill at about 8;30 last night. He had been to town to get additional radiation treatments for prostrate cancer. He said that he was to see his doctor today to learn if the radicals had been killed by the whole body burns. I hope so.
I got the boats finished and hooked back together. I used short pieces of 2 by 4's that I cut off of the 14 foot spans I had used when I first started out. I used the left overs as skids and levers to move the whole unit to the water. I started loading stuff up when the wind began to gust. I stopped work and made some oatmeal and onions for lunch.
One of the guides, I met at Foster Falls, stopped with two gentlemen that he was taking fishing. They ate lunch and were careful to go behind the trees to pee. I am sure they would not have been so private, if I had not been nearby.
At 1pm I started to worry about Donnie who had said he might stop by at about noon. I worried that he had not got good news from his doctor. Something large made a commotion in the water to my left, likely a large catfish. The wind was strong and steady. A storm was winding through the mountains and would arrive soon.
I like this river. I will be on Claytor Lake sometime tomorrow. I hope Lorrie and Mikey can come to get my tools and fiberglass cloth so I don't have to carry that extra 100 pound load. I could empty that 18 gallon plastic storage box and fill it with clothes to keep them dry.
A male flying ant landed on this page a moment ago. He rested a while until the wind hurried him along his journey to mate or die. I don't think ants know that we will all lose everything than even ourselves in death. I believe death must always surprise them.
Donnie came down and we dumped a round hay bale out of his pickup. Then we went up to his boat shed. He will hold on to my kayak and he gave me a life jacket to use on this journey. He had not been to the doctor's yet.
Ate pineapple for a snack and decided to dig up more wild onion for supper. I would walk through the forest looking for mushrooms, but there is much stinging and naked nettle in there. Found pink toadstools on a downed tree, so I will drop them in the pot. Should make good soup.
The flavor was good, but the toadstools stayed woody. I could not chew enough to soften them. Maybe when i have a larger can, I'll try cooking the same kind again. Still the juice was good and the onions tasty.
Heard the boats being scraped by something while I was eating so I will see if there has been any damage. I'll be starting early in the morning. One way or another I would like to travel a spell.
A turkey hen walked by and then flew across the river. She mostly glided across with the help of the wind. The two hawks that live on top of the big rock column perked up and looked over the edge. She went right into the brush on the other side so the hawks missed dinner.
The black butterflies that were down drinking on the mud are leaving now. The green of the water reminds me of the Green River in Wyoming and makes me a little homesick. Wonderful day, Daddy. A shower and good night.

May 2nd Journal Entry

Good evening, dear. I woke at 4am and could not get back to sleep. The cot in this tepee sags in the wrong places for this body. So I got up passably stiff. Went over to the bathhouse for another shower, my I love hot water! I cook oatmeal for breakfast.
I sanded and glassed the damaged boat until I had to stop for the resin on the tools to harden. The resin gets sticky and hard to work with. But if I let everything harden some more, I can break the resin from the tools and start up again.
At 8am I picked up the double canoe paddle and my not adequate life jacket and walked up the hill to the Wiser Highway. I walked a mile west to the ramp where the two other canoes were waiting. The one already repaired and the one needing repairs were just a bit further from the water. The river was still going down from flood.
I pushed and rocked each boat until they were partially afloat and mostly free of the mud. I loaded the 2 by 4's in the leaking boat and put myself in the other. I started downstream with the leakier tied behind the repaired canoe.
I tried to stay to the left of the main current, but the flood waters had deposited a half mile of sandbars just beneath the surface. I turned around when I could go no further and paddled upstream to my starting point. I turned into the main current and made good speed around the bars.
I discovered that my knees and back could have used more frequent exercise during my wait to be cleared of cancer. Ouch! Paddled away until I rounded the bend heading north in the current. Then I started angling back to the left bank where the water was slower. The sun shown fiercely in my eyes and I could barely see the rock wall off to the right.
Thinking It might already be the rock pillar that rises out of the river from my campsite, I rounded a snag which had settled as the water receded from flood. Maybe that very tree had punched the holes in my boats?
I tied the boats to its roots and then plowed the bow of my boat into the sloping sand and mud bank. I climbed over the front of the boat holding on to its bow tie rope. I slipped and fell right on my butt, making a mess of my skirt.
Anyway, I tied the boats, climbed the bank and walked downstream until I found the campground a half mile further along. I walked back and climbed back into the boat. Pushed off and paddled to where I needed to be. I pulled the boat up the ramp then up onto the grass. I turned them over, bottom up to the sun so the mud could dry.
I went up to the tent, got a clean skirt and a towel and had my second shower of the day. Washed the muddy skirt too. At 11 the boats were dry enough to start work of the leaker. I glassed it and began pinning it with 2 by 4's to the already repaired boat which had been so badly damaged. Kept on glassing the other boat, alternating between the tasks. At 4:30, I stopped for the day read Dean Koontz's "Winter Moon," made dinner. I now write in the tail of the day.
It was a lovely fine day, Daddy.. Bye.