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.