Day 03 - Dave's Not Here

Date: May 3, 2002
Location: Bob's Bait, Hwy 2, Wellington Nova Scotia
Distance Traveled: 0 km (41 km)

"Dave's Not Here"

My first roof in a few days, having not really that much experience in bad weather camping. Nice guys, can't remember what they looked like.

As I figured, the rain didn't stop until around 10 Atlantic Time. I spent most of the morning writing my precious day's journal just as I am now writting yesterday's. Accurate records are NOT kept this way. I will apologuise now and hope it doesn't happen again.

About 11 am a breeze picked up. My tent being both wet (inside & out) and with lots of air circulation, had become a sleep-in freezer. I decided a fire was in order. I was very lucky to find a 2 meter stump that was not only dead by also a tad punky and dry. The closest I'll get to good tinder. An hour and 10 smoking fits later, I had a mediocre fire supplying enough heat to stop my chattering teeth.

At this time, I had observed a number of different people pass through the park either jogging, carrying fishing poles or walking their dogs. The last fellow I saw come through was an interesting character to say the least. He said his name was Joe and he joined me for a time, built up my fire and was quite congenial considering he looked like he had rolled off the train only 30 minutes before it pulled into station.

He left me for a bit but returned to invite me into his brothers house only a 2 minute walk away. After turning down kevin & his girlfriend last night, I jumped on the opportunity for a worm, dry, comfortable bed. I accepted.

After drowning the fire, breaking camp and packing a wet bag, I hiked for 2 minutes, out of the park to Bob's Bait. Joe invited me in, poured me a drink and I supplied my own hour and a half of virtego. I met Joe's brother Bob and his nefew David. I got a huge kick out of answering the phone with “ Dave's not Here” and meaning it.

Aparently this 20-year-old kid is wanted on call at work 24-7 and by every able-bodied woman in Halifax County. I met him and he found him to be a poster-boy for today's nice-young-man.

Bob reminds me much of my step-father. Although he is much more expressive with his moods and with a strong Nova Scotian accent. I can relate with him only on a cetain level. I liked his way of speaking, his views on economy and the missmatched way he has decorated his home; guitars glued to the ceiling and maple bark on the walls. Very “man's territory”. I laid out the tent in his basement and hit the couch around 11 pm (Atlantic).