Beyond the Setting Sun

Mr. Nietzsche and The Billups

'Nope, just a smile... it's worked so far.  If I had a gun, and pointed it at you, what whould you have done... shot me?'

'I suppose I might, in the arm or leg or something.'  I found the boy's honesty alarming.

'Well, I think I'll stick with the smile.'

'Well, I guess I'll go finish my rounds.  You can stay 'til four, then someone else comes on and you'd better head out.'

'Ok, thanks... it was good meeting you.'

'Yeah, good luck.  Jeez, you've got guts.'

'Bye.'

With that the security guard closed the door and I got back to sleep, snoozing until around four.  I drank the rainwater in the pot, packed up and headed off in the dark.  My head hurt and I still felt sick.  A little way ahead, I spotted a nice piece of lawn with an ideally concealing tree.  It looked like a good spot for a few hours more sleep.  In a matter of moments my bivi was laid out.  With a sigh of relief I began to doze off.

'Ruff, ruff!  Ruff, ruff!'  The sound of a dog woke me.

I groaned.

'RUFF, RUFF, RUFF, RUFF!'  The dog had caught my scent and wanted everyone to know about it.

'Man's best friend... huh!'  Visions of vicious Dobermans and irate house-owners coming out to blow me away... or just shoot me in the arm or leg, so they could get some sleep, flitted through my head.  It was time to vacate the area.

Muttering curses, I rolled up my bivi, slung it onto my backpack and jogged down the road, as a light came on in the house.  There was a final round of barking, before a whacking sound and then a pitiful whelp from the dog.  Maliciously, I smiled, as I moved further down the road.

It was five o'clock.  I was still tired.  I needed sleep.  A muddy field lay to my left, so I slid down a steep bank and put my tent down.  Crawling inside all was well, for about five seconds.  A scrabbling noise came from the ground beneath me.  Something was digging around just below my ear.  I couldn't believe it.  Eventually the noise stopped and I got some sleep.

My sleep was deep and once more vivid dreams came.  In one  dream I was flying over the countryside, bodyless and free, passing over trees and cows and grass, smelling the fresh air and feeling the rush of wind and warmth of the sun.

At just after seven I awoke.  I felt much better.

Beside the quiet country road, fields and woods were all around.  I packed up and staggered my way up the steep bank to go and meet the early morning chill.

Cows browsed the grass and farmyards smelt of hay and dung: all good, natural smells; a bit too potent maybe, but vibrant and better than the fumes of traffic.  The morning warmed and my mood warmed with it.  A pleasant breeze blew and I had reached the western edge of the Finger Lakes region of Upper New York.  Buffalo was only two days away.

The plan was to reach Geneseo before dark and try to find a place to stay where there would be no gun-toting security guards or barking dogs.

My first stop was at a roadside party store.  I walked on in and bought food and drink for a combined breakfast and lunch: orange juice, two pints of chocolate milk, some twinkies, bread and peanut butter.  Outside the quiet store I sat down at a wooden bench and ate in the shade.  The store was air-conditioned, but it made me shiver to be inside.  My body had become accustomed to the heat.  My shoulders were stiff, but had grown a lot since John O' Groats.  Likewise my calf muscles were well defined and my things were rock hard.  With a twinge of regret, I noticed that my stomach looked a bit out of shape, probably as a result of my strange walking posture and the amount of junk food I was now getting through.  Putting the bread and peanut butter away, it was time for some more exercise.