I spent most of my time sucking on wifi, coffee and electricity.
The first morning I woke up or rather, was woken up, was to the sound of a boat engine 10 minutes to 6am.
Who the fuck does that, I think. How could you, in your heart of hearts make such an aggressive sound at this hour?
I'm an early bird, no doubts about that. But c'mon! That's just too much.
I eat my morning whey, granola and hemp seed. A guy in camp says hello, "did you enjoy our rude awakening?"
"A little much for me! Who even does that?"
"It's the Dorymen. I guess they were grandfathered into the sound ordinance. They have to warm their boat engines to get past the breakers."
"Huh, that's interesting. Who knew?"
I didn't know what a dory was, but signs everywhere said this was the home of "The Dory Fleet" As I moved about town, I saw stickers on cars that said "Dorymen Association"
Then, while sitting in the coffee shop overlooking the beach and cape, I saw it. A boat going fast as hell pointed straight for the beach. It slid on to the sand very gracefully. It seemed very cool, actually. These little nimble boats are part of their fishing and crabbing culture.
I walked down to the hardware store for denatured alcohol for my stove. It was a lot and I wasn't going to carry it all. I just promised myself to use as much as I could while I was staying here.
I hung out in the library, but they ran the air conditioning and it made it so cold I couldn't stand it.
When I returned to camp, a couple had arrived. They had a camper on top of a Dodge 4x4. It had surf spots and boarders they crossed marked off on the side of their truck. They had an Instagram account! Naturally, I had to peek.
They were driving the PanAmerican Highway, something Daniel and I had talked about. The PanAmerican is kinda like the PCT, but for cars. 30,000 miles and runs from tip to tip of the North and South American continents. It's an incredible feat to pull something like that off. Years of planning and saving on a scale that would make something like hiking a major trail seem very small.
I fell into a PanAm vortex. I had to distract myself from slipping into despair over missing days on the trail.
I learned of the impassable Darian Gap. A roadless stretch of deep jungle, home to everything that wants to kill you. I read stories of people hiking it. Seeing jaguar tracks! Poison dart frogs! Trees with spines that will give you diseases! It makes me glad that that jungle is so wild, that you can't tame it.
I get lost in and reverie of what it would be like to do this kind of trip.
I google the best make and year of truck. Toyota, of course. What kind of camper top? How much? When do you start? I text Daniel this information.
I observe myself in this state. Always lusting for more. I haven't finished this trip, I got more than half a year till the PCT and already I'm theorizing plans. I don't scold or judge myself for it, I just watch. Where does this drive come from? What do you want? What are you looking for?
I take a deep breath and bring myself back to the present moment. The sun is setting in beautiful shades of pink, orange and purple. It burns behind the cape. The moon is out. I'm alive. My shoes come tomorrow and I'll be back to hiking so soon.
The next day I arrive at the post office, shoes marked delivered! I put them on right there. My feet sigh a deep deep relief. I was right. I was basically walking on my low arches the whole damn time and they were bruised. Especially the right one. I walked on a cloud all the way back to camp. It felt amazing.
I got myself fully prepped to go in the morning. Sadly it's going to be quite a bit of road walking. Actually, all road walking, to get to my next camp spot. I don't care though. I just want to be moving.
My bum ankle had me laid up in a hotel for two days, this unexpected expense put a dent in my budget. Interested in supporting me, buying me a coffee or a burger? You can donate here!