Day 17 - Tatamagoughe

Date: May 17, 2002
Location: Mike's Place
Distance Travelled: *will update later

"Tatamagoughe"

I'm having difficulty with distances, so I'll wait until I reach Oxford to tally up again. Anyway, there are some nice chaps there at the Cellar Pub. It doesn't get too busy I would imagine. But these two fella's came in and the one, Mike, took a real interest in my guitar. I let him play some and we got to talking. Well we both like the old rock, so we decided, "hey, let's start a jam session over at the bowling ally!" So I took a look outside and thought to myself "there's barely enough room between these mountains for the motel and gas station. Where the hell is this bowling alley?"

Well it turns out these guys drove me over to the other coast to a logging town called Tatamagoughe (that's Ta-ta-ma-goosh). Skittles is the towns bowling ally, slots, pizza parlour and bar all rolled into one.  The owner eagerly helped set up the mic's and gave me a couple of rounds on the house. Now Mike, he must not have a head for booze, because he passed out on stage for a good hour. There was a kid named Ryan who came up and jammed with me while Mike was out. Around midnight, Mike got up and I drove him home.

We spent most of this morning in his beautiful house playing his guitars, (I broke a string last night and lost the peg; I'm carving a replacement now) and watching the tragically hip tour video. Mike put on a pink Floyd song called "several species of small furry animals gathered together and groov'n with a pict". We didn't know what a pict was so we looked it up in the dictionary but couldn't find it. The song almost made me go insane, for sure, the stangest most interesting peice of music ever. If it can be called that.

We made a quick trip to Skittles for pizza and to look for the peg but couldn't find it. Mike found his Capo that he didn't realize was missing. We sat and talked to some locals. Mike introduced me to his cousin. I can't remember her name, but she was cute. She and her friend had just finished work. They do the replanting of trees after the loggers go through and clear cut a big patch.

Anyway, after a few slices of pizza, Mike took me back to the Cellar Pub so that I may continue the journey uninterrupted. Thanks Mike, you're a cool guy. Look me up if you're ever in my area. I'll show you some cool jamming!!

I walked a few hours and camped near the 304 turn-off on another ATV trail. A much better spot than most of my sites. I read some Tibetan Wisdom and slept soundly.

--
Friar Greg

Day 16 - Back in the Saddle Baby

Date: May 16, 2002
Location: Cellar Pub, Wentworth Valley, Nova Scotia
Distance Travelled: 12 km (175 km)

"Back in the Saddle Baby"

I tried to get an early start around 9 am, I was afraid that it was going to rain, but it never did. There was tonnes of wind and it seemed like the road just went up and down all day.  I climbed and climbed so much, that I've really lost where I am. With so few landmarks I'm finding it difficult to judge distance.

I've passed Folly Lake and taken some pictures. Remember that Tim's without any seats? well it turns out, it is owned by some guy that also owns the Esso next door a dry cleaners and a delivery service. After snapping those pics of the lake, I helped out a guy who delivered for that owner. He blew a tire (and I mean it was in 3 pieces off the rim) and didn't have a spare. I helped him un-seize his jack but that was about all I could do until a tire came, so I moved on.

There were a number of beautiful places to camp along the road, but it was early in the day and the best one was taken by a young couple. Let's just say, I didn't want to interrupt. I love this Provence.

Anyway, I stopped in here at the Cellar pub, made some calls and had a drink.

--
Friar Greg

Day 15 - Folly

Date: May 15, 2002
Location: Clearing under Ponderosa Sign, Hwy 4, Folly Mountain, Nova Scotia
Distance Travelled: 12 km (163 km)

"Folly"

10% of my trip over now and almost halfway through the month. A sign said that Amherst is probably 96 km away. that is 1 week if I don't make too many stops. Last night, Charlie's father gave me a ride into Truro to do some laundry. Charlie and her friend gave me a ride back to my camp site when I was done. Those two girls were quite a pair. Charlie was able to sum her friend Cheryl up into an easy to remember phrase: "the town tricycle." Later again there was mention of sucking chrome off tricycles. But I don't remember who said it. :)

We had a short discussion about budgeting and impulse buying. I was testing my ability with the Socratic method. Charlie bought me a chocolate milk and they dropped me off near my camp in the dark. I was able to put my plastic on the inside this time and had a warm, dry sleep. even though it drizzled all night.

The Sun came out today around 11am so I finally kicked my butt out of bed, packed up and mode my way to the Double C truck stop for water, coffee and to update my journal. Just after I left there, Charlie showed up and returned a book I had left in her dad's van. She had just finished an interview with some University Professors in Ottawa over the internet. She had been nervous before, but she said she had done well enough. Good Job Charlie!

Well, at the top of the mountains, daylight takes forever to go away. I read the coolest thing in my book tonight. It was called "Autobiography in 5 chapters". I'll write about it later... it's freezing!

--
Friar Greg

Day 14 - No Changes

"...and the man looked upon Greg and said: This is NOT good. Should this penniless pilgrim ever find himself, it will be as a tidal wave of individualism and spiritual peace as the others will soon want their own understanding. I can't have that as a threat to my power. So the man pulled his strings and paid his bribes. Then on the 14th day of Greg's quest, he awoke to a freezing rain from the overcast, satellite-controlled skies, and he smiled.


FOOL!!! he cried, dost thou not realise that I have hit bottom? From here I have only to climb, and climb I shall to the pinnacles of the Cobequid mountains as a symbol of my testament against your power hungry and oppressive reign!!!! I will let slide what truly doesn't matter and that, THAT, shall be my power over you!!!


Then Greg went about protecting his gear from the rains and promptly went back to sleep."

Yah, anyway, I woke up later and was very unhappy with what I found. I owe my sister Anna a huge apology, not that she needs an apology, but that I deserve a big kick in the soggy butt for not listening to her advice. I have once again laid my plastic fist and under the tent, waking upon a leaky, cold water bed. Now I see how and shy I should put the plastic inside the tent from now on. Experience is truly the best if harshest of teachers.

Around 2 pm, I couldn't take it any more. I left the tent in the bushes with my pack and guitar, and headed over to the Masstown Market, where I ran into Charlie again. I bought an endless cup of coffee and a small bowl of a soup made with fiddle heads. Charlie showed me what they look like and told me were to find them in the wild. It's actually a young fern that grows near water. Tasty.

I also spent some time on the free internet, chatting with Lesley and Anna, my friend from College Jules and another friend Greg who is on his way to Korea to teach English as a second language.  Then some people added me to their MSN contact list. Christa was one, and I thought that was cool. But the one that struck me was my ex-girlfriend, the one. the one that I couldn't bear to look at for 2 years. We parted on pretty bad terms, mostly mine. I don't know what exactly has happened to me or even exactly when, but during the last two weeks, I've come through a bit of an internal struggle.

... This is the part where I go on and on about feelings and history and stuff. But I'm not going to. Rest assured, that I got over myself and a major goal was achieved...

It's taken me two years, but I know now what to look for and to never make that mistake again, though I know I may never find anybody like her again either.


--
Friar Greg

Day 13 - Lucky Thirteen

Date: May 13, 2002
Location: Peatbog, Hwy's 4 & 114 Nova Scotia
Distance Travelled: 21 km (151 km)

"Lucky 13"

Here's the joke, My brother-in-law Jeff spent some time in Halifax and he thought it was hilarious that I kept getting called Jeff because people always forgot his name and thought he was Greg... I FOUND HIM!!! HAHAHA

Betts Dornan; I wasn't more than 2 klicks from the bridge when a nice lady stopped me and invited me inside for a cold drink & sandwich. We talked and I found that she and her husband once lived on the base in Trenton, right next door to my home town in Ontario. During the meal she helped me out of my "jam" with dwindling groceries and she gave me a crystal that her husband brought back from south america. She said that as long as it Have that, I'll always remember that I will have someone watching over me and praying for my safe journey. I can't think of a sweeter act of kindness any stranger can do for another. Thank you Betts.

Later on, I picked up 2 travellers who wanted to come along and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. They're twins, and they do nothing but complain. They bitch & chew and will never get along with anyone. They seriously slowed me down. Their names are Left & Right "Baby Toe" Blisters. I had to stop twice because of the pain. I guess my mistake was tying my shoes too tight.

So I've just now stepped out of the Masstown market and camped in a dead peat bog located inside the on/off ramp for highway 114. This market is quite a find. It's like... 15 km of nothing in all directions, then suddenly... a busy, bustling, fresh food/bakery/restaurant/greenhouse just pops up out of nowhere. Oh, and it has public internet access, when it works. There was one of the employee's out side um... waiting, that's right; she was waiting for a ride home. Her name was Charlotte (same as my youngest sister) and she told me that I looked just like a guy she knew named Jeff.

Now, for years, YEARS, people have been mistaking me for a Jeff and now I've found one with my face. It would only be poetic justice if he was always being called Greg, and I would like that just fine.

Well, to wind it down, my Grandmother would just flip if she had access to this little patch of peat... give her a shovel and a mulcher and the next thing you know, there's going to be a big whole where I'm sitting right now, and a new forest, freshly planted in her back yard.

--

Friar Greg

Day 12 - The Unknown God

Date: May 12, 2002
Location: Mudbanks of the Salmon River, Hwy 2 Overpass Truro NS
Distance Travelled: 0 km (130 km)

"The Unknown God"

Crude is a good word, not inaccurate for the phase I was in, too harsh I guess for what I should have been thinking. I don't know how to describe that. I'm in a place now where behind me lies the life I've repeated, and before me lies Frost's fork. I can let it go and be cursed to repeat it again, or take the road less travelled, and actually stop the cycle... youth is sooooo wasted on the young.

And welcome to this week's installment of "Where's Greg gonna sleep next?" Last week we left our intrepid voyager in the Nova Scotian city of Truro; where he met a tribe of Pentecosts and befriended one of their soldiers of God. Now prepare, as we give you the on-going saga of "Where's Greg gonna sleep next?"

Ok, so I'm still a little hyped from the coffee and my brief walk on the Trans Canada... Man they are driving fast!! I found myself on the wrong side of the river and only a 3 hour trek back through town would get me on the side I wanted... or, I could use the main highway. I opted for the shortest route which was not the safest. Now I've hitch-hiked on the 401 back home, but I stood at least a good 5-8 feet from the traffic. This bridge only gave me a 4' path between the barrier and the 140 kph transports. It was a rush.

Once on the North shore, I decided to camp out under the bridge. The traffic won't bother me. I recall stories from my mother of how she would vaccume my room while I was sleeping. The good news is, I'm on hard-packed mud. A big change from the stone shiatzu only 48 hours ago. As Rudy may be saying right now "ask and He shall provide".

Now I'll get back to that later. Let's start with breakfast... mmmm bacon, eggs, spiced venison and a banana, topped with a big glass of apple juice. I passed on the coffee. It was instant, and I'm not a barbarian :) I'm only kidding! Hey, I'm eating strait from a can of flaked turkey (which looks more like cat food). I just choose what I drink and I can't go back to instant coffee. Now I have a tune in my head "you don't mess around with..." that's it. I really don't like not remembering words to songs. If anyone remembers the song, I'd like to learn it.

update:

Jim Croche: "You Don't Mess Around With Jim"

 

 Uptown got it's hustlers
 The bowery got it's bums
 42nd Street got Big Jim Walker
 He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
 Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come
 But he stronger than a country hoss
 And when the bad folks all get together at night
 You know they all call big Jim "Boss", just because
And they say

You don't tug on Superman's cape
 You don't spit into the wind
 You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
 And you don't mess around with Jim

Well outta south Alabama come a country boy
 He say I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
 I am a pool-shootin' boy
 By name 'a Willie McCoy
 But down home they call me Slim
 Yeah I'm lookin' for the king of 42nd Street
 He drivin' a drop top Cadillac
 Last week he took all my money
 And it may sound funny
 But I come to get my money back
 And everybody say Jack don't you know

You don't tug on Superman's cape
 You don't spit into the wind
 You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
 And you don't mess around with Jim

Well a hush fell over the pool room
 Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
 And when the cuttin' was done
 The only part that wasn't bloody
 Was the soles of the big man's feet, ooh
 And he was cut in about a hundred places
 And he were shot in a couple more
 And you better believe
 There come another kind of story
 When big Jim hit the floor now they say

You don't tug on Superman's cape
 You don't spit into the wind
 You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
 And you don't mess around with Slim

Yeah, big Jim got his hat
 Find out where it's at
 And it's not hustlin' people strange to you
 Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue

Yeah you don't tug on Superman's cape
 You don't spit into the wind
 You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
 And you don't mess around with Slim

Anyway, to get back to my story. After breakfast, Rudy and I went to church which consisted of a mother's day sermon. Now I've been to quite a few baptist sermons, so today's was really low key. But the good reverend talked about the hnour and strength of a Godly woman. That was a very interesting speach. I personally believe in pre-marital sex and with cohabitaion of unmarried couples because; and this may sound crude; I don't want to marry a bad lay, or a slouch. I'm messy enough with my own belongings. So when I leave a mess, I want Hitler herself kicking my but to clean it up. As for Sex life, I want to be sure that she can return the kind of passion that I'm willing to put into a relationship, and not just first time. It has to reoccur regularly or it becomes boring and stale.

I've dated her, done that one, burnt the t-shirt. however, the Reverend's description of a woman who knows her worth and won't take garbage as a price, that's the kind of woman who earn's my respect. All through the sermon, a picture of the respectable woman was forming in my mind. The perfect wife for me. He may have described her as Godly, but to me, respect will do the same thing. Respect for her, and respect for herself.

Afterwards, while everyone was leaving, the Rev and I talked about traveling. He as a young man used to hitch-hike around the states and at one time was accused of a rape/murder that had occured near to where he happened to be. Against him was evidence like "lone traveller", "jewelery in his pocket", "carrying a strait razor". I don't blame anyone for carrying a knife, I carry one as a traveller myself. The jewelry was a cheap buy from a wholesaler who'd given him a ride a few days before. His saving grace was a journal he kept of his travels' much like this one. That journal probably saved him from a life in jail, or the death penalty (depending on which state he was in). Well this Rev was the kind of person who had well earned the respect, trust and admiration of his flock.

For the next hour or two, Rudy and I had coffee and we talked about our differences, my philosophy and his faith. I think we came to the point where we each understood the subtle differences in our platforms. I believe in the possibility of the unknown god, as was claimed by Socrates, and Rudy's faith was based on Peter's placing Christ on that empty pedestal.

--
Friar Greg

Day 11 - Stone Shiatsu

Date: May 11, 2002
Location: Truro, NS
Distance Traveled: 13 km (130 km)

"Stone Shiatsu"

Up early and happy as hell to see the sky clear; but my hopes were almost dashed as I saw the darkest storm clouds ever heading my way.  They never did pass over but the wind almost burnt me, buffeting me almost into the road then almost into the ditch.

Last night, the bumps under the tent were like a stone shiatzu.  I highly recomend you sleep on that one before complaining about your matress ever again.  Around noon, I passed through a MicMaq community, which reminded me of Bob, back in Stewiake. Bob's introduction was "you have to call me a native. You can't call me an Indian because there aren't any wagon's left to burn." I don't think I'll mention that one again, but it was funny as hell when he said it.

Anyway, the most interesting thing I saw here was the trading post. It consisted of a sinkgle booth, on the road.  Cars wer lining up on both sides so it looked like a toll booth.  But driver's weren't paying a toll for the road, but for their lungs.  I wish now that I had taken a picture of it.

People lining up for a drive-thru cigarette shop.  $50 a carton may be a deal here, but I'm used to $35 on the carton and $29 on reserve, well, in Ontario anyway.

(time lapse)

I'm in a Tim Horton's now in Truro.  Yes!! It has SEATS!!  Lots of them! I'm thinking it may be wise to stay out of the mountains so from here I'm changing my route a little.  I could go North on highway 4 thorugh the mountains in about a week but ther are almost no towns. Or I could go east then North on Highway 2 with a detour on the 302.  Now, it's 30 km longer, but there are plenty of towns to stop in.  The mountains may even slow me down more than I expect.  So it's a toss-up.  I'll have to ask around for advice.

(time lapse)

I just talked to some nice guys who say that the Cobequid Mountains aren't really mountains at all and that I should just stock up with some extra water before I leave Truro.

(time lapse)

I found a library and posted an entry only minutes before they closed down.  I'm sure everyone reading at home is going nuts... "What! Only 1 post in 6 days?"  I'm getting to them, don't you worry. At the library I met chap named Rudy who was a prayer leader or something.  We had coffee, went to the night yourth meeting where I met so many other people... Loren, Ruthy, some other chics I can't remember their names... if you get the picture.  I jammed with Robert and crashed with Rudy.

{the rest of this entry was extended on the original blog site, but was lost after that ISP decided I didn't pay enough for their services. These entries are strait from my hard cover journal I wrote in on my journey.}

Day 10 - Ontario? Are You Nuts?

Date: May 10, 2002
Location: ATV Trail, 5 km N Brookfield, Nova Scotia
Distance Traveled: 14 km (117 km)

"Ontario? Are You Nuts?"

I waited until 2 pm for the rain to stop so that I could shake everything out.  It didn't make any difference seeing as how all the laundry I had meticulously  washed and dried on the line and folded and put away... was now wet. My pack took on about another 8 lbs just from the cloths and the blankets.

I was afraid my tent would get moldy but I've found a nice dry spot tonight so it should dry by morning.  I've found that my belt can move in another 2 notches easily.  Though I can't see a change in my pot-belly.  I walked in wet shoes, wet pants and sweater all the way into Brookfield, where the Tim Hortons has no where to sit.  This is a first. I never believed that I could find a town so smll that it's Timmy's has no chairs.

I also stopped at the Brookfield Golf & Country Club where I was permitted a shower.   Very nice people.  I was invited into a flop-house by some kids my age & given a beer.  We talked a bit about my walk and I played a couple tunes on my guitar.  Sarah was the only one who introduced herself.  There was one guy who kept repeating: "Ontario, man you gotta be nuts!"

Everyone was freaking out that the cops were going to crash their little get-together so I figured it was best to leave.  I found this place easily enough, so I'm just gonna crash and maybe get an early start in the morning.  I'll hit Turo tomorrow if I'm smart.

Poem - Gurgle Brook

Date: May 9, 2002

Gurgle Brook

I don't want to leave this place

It is far more beautiful than I

The gurgling waters tease

My weary spirit and

The sunlight plays between

The trunks of falling trees.

I can almost hear the very

Stones, whispering for me

to stay.

I do not want to leave this place

I am afraid that I will become

less beautiful, the farther

I will go.

--

Friar Greg

Day 09 - Every Dream Turns Wet

Date: May 9, 2002

"Every Dream Turns Wet"

I spent the day lying in the sun, playing guitar, writing poems and feeling the world around me.  That was until it started to rain.  I wasn't expecting it at all and almost everything got wet in the process.  I saved the guitar but the case is going to fall apart soon and there is nothing I can really do about that.  It was far too late to break camp and move on, so I waited it out by reading Steven Hawkings "A Brief History of Time and Space" the updated version. I'm 166 pages into it, it's only 197 pages.  I figure that I should know a little more about our universe so that I can better define my (our) place in it.

After reading some Socrates and Steven Hawking; I found that I wasn't alone in saying that I believe in the possibility of a God.  Hawking never says... "and God made it that way". Instead, he goes as far as to say that certain undenounced theory's still leave room for a God to have set things in motion.

Socrates was a little more adamant about a God claiming that logic alone can prove his existance.  Mind you, I realize Socrates never wrote anything himself; I've studied Plato's "The Apology" and I'm currently reading "The Best Thing in Life" by Peter Kreeft which is a collection of modern dialouges using Socrates as the main character.

My sister Lesley & my new friend Keitha both swear that I was meant to take FIB.  I think they mean Philosophy, as a course.  I may do that.  I remember getting very frustrated with Damien because he would use huge words and references that I never understood.  I don't want to go out and buy myself a new vocabulary but I think a good background in the Socratic method will make my life much easier.  I would actually recommend that to everybody.

You may think that you are clever, that you know enough. Or you may not believe you have any brains at all.  Either way, knowing how to ask questions will show you that it is better to think yourself a fool and know knothing than it is to think yourself wise and still be a fool.

It's going to be a wet sleep tonight.

Day 08 - Gurgle Brook

Date: May 8, 2002
Location: Gurgle Brook, Hwy 2 Nova Scotia
Distance Traveled: 18 km (103 km)

"Gurgle Brook"

I wish I could see this place again, even if only to hope for that wonderful feeling once more.


Happy Birthday MOM! I broke my first 100 klicks today. I should be much farther buy now but I was dying for a bath. I found the most beautiful little brook next to the highway. I dubbed it "gurgle brook" and made camp. When you finally see the pictures you'll know just how beautiful it is. I had a bath (my first so far... peeeyew) in the chilly, red water. I think it's the dirt here that makes it red. I also scrubbed some of my lighter laundry and hung it to dry. It is so peaceful here, the sounds of the water drown out the roar of what few cars go by. This little patch of the world fills me with such peace that I could forgive anyone everything they've ever done to me.

During the night, I heard a lot of splashing in the water. I couldn't see any shadows moving or even an animal sniffing around the tent, but it kept me up most of the night worrying. As the sun rose the next morning, I watched the frozen dew steam off into the air and smelled the life returning to my glade. I also caught a few glimpses of small fish that aught their way upstream, splashing and causing a ruckus. I'll wrote some poems today. I'm not going to leave Gurgle Brook until tomorrow. Some of my cloths are still wet. I only wish I had some one to share this spot with.

Day 07 - Pride & Prejudice

Date: May 7, 2002
Location: Iron Forge Pub, Stewiake, NS
Distance Traveled: 2 km (85 km)

"Pride & Prejudice"

A crazy night in a crazy little town. Perhaps I will return, but it's enough to know that a biker in Nova Scotia gave me my name.


I would probably... well definitely be another 15 klicks farther than I am now, but I seemed to have walked into a family. First it was birthday party, I was given pizza for being in the pub. Then it was another birthday, and I was given a piece of cake, 10 minutes later a second piece of cake... I couldn't accept all this charity without a song, so when I pulled out my guitar, this biker dude (Doug) went nuts and set up the karaoke machine so I could have a mic. Then we passed the guitar around to the few who could play; everyone bought me drinks and I accidentally swallowed 2 quarters that were in my glass. I flirted outrageously with the waitress (Alanna) and spoke at length about the differences between Canada and the bartender's (Sam) homelands of Lebanon & Sierra Leone.


I chatted it up with a very nice older lady who liked to talk about her husband's guitars and the random jam sessions that happened in their home. Mona was a 30ish flirt and her husband Kevin was from Kingston Ontario. I had a wonderful afternoon & a great night drinking and singing with Doug, who kept calling me "brother". I stayed at Doug's place. They teased me this morning about my snoring even though Eric (another couch crasher) was snoring much worse. I told everyone there at the Iron Forge that if I ever moved to Nova Scotia, I would be sure to put my time in Stewiake.

Day 06 - Pipe Dreams

Date: May 6, 2002 Location: Glade between Tracks & Hwy 2 Stewiack NS Distance Traveled: 15 km (83 km)

"Pipe Dreams"

My own advice sounds so hollow in my ears, as it reverberates from the past. It was strong and right, but now is only vinegar. How things change, when I know that if I had gotten off my ass was one thing, but now, I'm not allowed to fix my situation. One can say "only you can make your own future" but I can't even do that. Let me say only, I'm not allowed, not in my power, I have not the authority, the flesh and the spirit are willing, but the law is not. This is worse than Life not being fair; Life (and my ex in particular) is malicious.

I realize that I'm still moving slowely. I have not as yet found a buyer for my guitar. My now toonie sized blister (the 2 merged when they popped) is still fresh and it needs to settle before I can stop limping. However; I am able to predict my mood swings a little better. I know that when I suddenly feel homesick (and I have never felt homesick before) I just start humming "with a little help from my friends" and if I get tired and begin to slow down to a crawl, I begin singing a song "walk him along, John carry him along". It has a good marching rythm and forces me back on pace. I'm also glad that I finally got that damned Shakira tune out of my head.

General Taylor gained the day

walk him along, John carry him along

oh, General Taylor gained the day

carry him to his burying ground

 

To me way hey oh Stormy

walk him along, John carry him along

to me way hey old Stormy

Carry him to his burying ground

 

Oh I wish I was old Stormy's son

I'd build him a ship ten thousand tons

I'd load her down with ale and rum

and every shellback should have some

 

Oh we'd dig his grave with a silver spade

and his shroud of the softest silk is made

 

And we'd lower him down on a golden chain

on every link we'll carve his name

 

General Taylor's dead and gone

General Taylor's dead and gone

 I've just finished Rainer Maria Rilke's letters to a young poet. I've only read it once now, but I am sure to have it memorized by the time this is over. He really puts it strait, makes the reader think. Of course he would probably say that he will not make anyone think anything, it's up to the reader to think for himself. But I was moved and maybe moved that much more the second, third and forth time through.

Earlier today, I posted the first 5 days of my journal from the library of East Haunts Rural Secondary School. Thanks go to Mr. Brown for the use of his facilities. I noticed a bunch of kids showed interest in my journey. I really should have stayed a while and talked with them, but as it was, my presence was unexpected and I did not want to push the school's hospitality. But this I would like to say to the Nascar driver to be: I am just like you. I hated school, though I didn't hate learning. I had lots of dreams that were always in-the-works. I'm gonna be a great programmer or a rock star or an actor.These were all great and wornderful but I never acted on them to the extent of my potential.

You need to look deep inside yourself and ask the question, "am I really a driver?" If your heart says yes, then don't look back. Learn everything you can about cars; take auto courses; learn how to take apart and build cars; learn about their aerodynamics, steering, suspension; eat drink and breath cars. Dreaming and talking about them, gets you nothing but sleepless nights and unimpressed listeners. Build your own cart at home and practice your turns in the fields. You must show the Nascar world that you are the best thing that ever happened to a 5 point harness. Never again call yourself stupid. That is only an excuse for laziness.

If you look at me, I know I'm smart and I know I can do anything I apply myself to, but I am also very lazy. Because of my laziness I have suffered. I realize that my life is messed up because of this, I'm putting one foot in front of the other, shouldering my burden and making things right before I'm too old to do anything. If I had stayed lazy, then I would only live a long, bitter life, angry that the world owed me something and wasn't going to pay up. Life's too short for Idle words. Realize your dreams but for your own sake, act on them.

Day 05 - Oh JOY! oh BLISter!

Date: May 5, 2002

Location: Hidden Clearing near Esso Station; Hwy 2, Milford Nova Scotia

Distance Traveled: 15 km (68 km)

"Oh JOY! oh BLISter!"

When I find this photo of the GIANT BLISTERS I had on my feet, I'll post it here strait away, just for Anna, who told me not to! :P

I never did find that bridge until this morning. I had mistaken Phil's directions and turned right at the lights instead of going strait another 150 meters. But in the dark, I couldn't see anything. There was a library at that corner with a C@P sign (public internet) but was closed on Sunday's. Just my luck, it is Sunday.

I had camped instead on the side of a pile of wood shavings. The rain from before had seeped through the pile and was oozing out the bottom mixed with some kind of oily substance. It stank and I dealt with it. Beside this pile of muck was one of those fenced-in Industrial art statues that hum. I'm sure someone thinks they serve a purpose, but I think they only leave them there to poison us. Anyway, I found a dry patch of gravel between these two eyesores away from view of the road. 

This morning, I found that I had a beautiful view of some farmland. I decided to sleep in until noon and take my time. There's no need to rush when you aren't sure. Sure of myself that is. I know the road's not going anywhere, but I'm only starting to realize the hell I'm in for.

After a couple of hours, I reached the village of Lantz. An odd name, but a pleasant bunch of homes. I sat sown for a rest near a small bridge, had a bite to eat and decided to take a picture of my blistered foot. There are two nickel-sized blisters right under my big and second toe. I put some “moleskin” over them so when they do pop (and they did) the skin will stay intact and dry out quickly. This way, I can continue walking. 

After Lantz, I was climbing another hill when suddenly, Idaho sprung up as if from nowhere. Actually, it was the beginning of Milford. The big red barns, silos and farm houses were so close together, it was like looking at a condensed version of Idaho.

Day 04 - Looking and feeling like Ghandi are 2 different things

Date: May 4, 2002
Location: Curly's Portables, Pub & Grub; Hwy 2, Enfield Nova Scotia
Distance Traveled: 12 km (53 km)

"Looking and feeling like Ghandi are 2 different things."

Of course, just because I was on the road to self discovery, didn't mean I automaticlly learn to budget my money. I blew a bunch of it here on pub fare because I was just too hungry and unable to control myself.

So the distance I've travelled in 4 days is about 1/3 rd of what I had wanted to accomplish. Except for the 1 day lay over in Laurie Park and Bob's Bait, I'd be moving a little faster than the average hiker who is NOT carrying a guitar. I am NOT however' moving as quickly as I want to. My original calculation said less than one month. The atlas said I would make it in little under 2, but I'm figuring I'll actually arrive in Belleville near Canada Day, July 1 st . This isn't so bad, but I don't want to show up looking like Ghandi.

I did some laundry at Bob's Bait this morning. Had a very difficult time prying myself away from the television, to that it was interesting. Saturday morning pokemon is not my idea of entertainment, but it was riviting, don't ask me why.

When all was washed and/or dried... and I finally ripped my eyes from the tv, I made my way North, leaving around 1 pm (Atlantic). I'm still thinking in Eastern Time. I still remember something Joe said last night. He mentioned something along the lines of “You know, transiants, the people between places!” I laughed so hard when this phrase escaped his lips. I was still a bit dizzy at the time and pondering Keitha's statement about a person's place. A transient, by Joe's description and my current understaning of “Place” would be anyone who really doesn't know what to do. They are in almost every sense “ lost” and so from now on, I and every frustrated soul, confused youth and Lost Boy will be considered transients. People who are between the places they know and places they will be.

Anyway, I left there, walked another 12 klicks to Curly's (where I am now) and plan on sleeping under a bridge. Phill (the bartender) suggested it would be a safe place. Curly's is awesome, Bob will help anyone in need and I am still hurting like hell!

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).

Day 02 - On with the show

Date: May 2, 2002

Location: Laurie Park (Closed) North of Wellington Nova Scotia

Distance Traveled: 26 km (41 km)

"On with the show"

This entry was probly the hardest one to write, being the first day on the road and the first evening alone in a strange province. I was quite terrified. Roberta made a point of reading this one out loud at our wedding reception so everyone would know of the fear I felt that night.

I didn't sleep well at all. The cold was biting from all sides, especially the ground. I had made a lousy camp and was suffering for it. But the worst was not the cold from the outside, it was the cold which claimed my thoughts. I was so scared, I wanted to just die. It took me a long hour of shivering and crying to finally get out of the tent. It may have been my cold breakfast, the morning fog or even just moving freely that kind of brought my senses about.

I gritted my teeth, still sore from chattering, and broke camp. Yesterday, while still in town, I passed an outdoors discount warehouse and purchased a thing called a kidney belt, to replace the garbage I was using already. This may be the first saving point of my adventure for I'm sure I would still be in Bedford, crying to mother for a ticket home. But as it is I decided to carry my guitar seperate from my pack, alleiviating the stress on my back if not my feet. I popped some calcium and vitamin c, then continued on into Bedford.

I'm starting to think that perhaps I should have purchased a seperate atlas for each of the provinces instead of a full Canadian atlas. I've asked directions a number of times, but the people here don't seem to use the same soncept of Highway numbers as we do in ontario. If a road connects two towns, the chances are it will have the same name in each, and what the procince designates in between is of no consequence to the people who actually live there. Even the local sherrif's had a hard time understanding that I'm looking for Hwy #2 and not Rocky Lake Rd. In Belleville ON, we always refered to Dundas as Hwy #2 even when we're standing on Dundas in the middle of town. Everyone in my area knows all the major Hwy's as 62, 33, 49, 37, 7 & 2.

Outside of Bedford, past the quarry a bit. I snapped a photo of a large hawk or eagle nest at the top of a telephone pole. I would say it was a hawk, but I'm not sure. It seemed bigger. I will just have to wait until I see the photo's again.

Now's the time for congratulations. I would like to thank constable Eric Jeanson of the R.C.M.P. rescently transfered from Amherst NS for being the first person who stopped and asked about my quest. Though we didn't talk long, he was a charismatic person and left me his card if I needed anything while I was in his juristiction. That reminds me of Ken. For some reason, I want to call hime Follet, but he never told me his last name. He met up with me twice today. We joked about people who are all gung-ho and talk about walking Europe or travelling anywhere and when it gets right down to it, they back out citing numerous excuses why they can't.

Then I met Kevin and his girlfriend. They offered me a ride, and I, of course had to decline. But they knew this camp ground I was deading for and asked if I was sticking around for awhile. By this time it had started to rain. So I mentioned that if it was still raining tomorrow, I may just hang around and rest a bit before I left again.

I set up camp in the rain. I'm very sorry Anna, but I am really not going to walk 100 meters back to my pack, hoisted 10 meters in the air every time I forget something. Instead, I tied the bag about 1 meter off the ground, to the trunk of a tree and set the tent right next to it. It's about this time that I discovered my need for seam sealer. The rain isn't quite going straight through the walls, but it may as well be.

Day 01

Date: May 1, 2002

Location: Highway 7 North of Halifax Nova Scotia.

Distance Traveled: 15 km

I helped keitha move out this morning, and gave her a big hug as she climbed into the cab. She was extremely supportive, as she should be; acting as my PR agent and all. She asked me this morning if I was ready to go. I replied that indeed, I was not ready, but I'm going anyway.

This has been a saving point for me in the past. I grade 9, an aquaintance once wrote in my yearbook " courage is knowing you are afraid, and continuing anyway". We didn't know each other very well, and I'm sure that she meant it only as a nice epitaph, but it stuck with me ever since. It has been and still is the best advice on could give. It made me a good skater because I didn't allow influences, competitors or crowds intimidate me. I was afraid, and for good reason. but I turned that fear into a fuel. I lit my terror like a propane torch and did what I needed to do, wanted to do and loved to do.

Just getting a little off topic, I'm having serious doubts about my gutar. I love her dearly and she has been my prized possession for a number of years, but today, she's been worse than a task master. She weighs the same as my pack (including hard case) and she's destroying my back. If anyone needs a hardshell gutar case I'm selling it for $60. I'll throw in the Fender for $400. You can find me walking the highway, a young man with an old walk.

Day 00

Date: April 30, 2002

Location: Room 420 Kings College Girls Dorm (Alexandra Hall), Halifax Nova Scotia.

Distance Travelled: 0 km

This is the first entry in my journal dating back to and specifically written about my walkabout adventure across the East Coast Provinces. someone may notice the room number I was in during this post, and it is accurate. The room was my sister Lesley's when she was a student at Kings College. She had the chase off the pot heads all the time who would just show up to hang in room 420.

I've only an hour ago, participated in a CBC Radio interview with Matt Raighny down at the studio. Keitha and I were quite impressed with the setup and technology they used. (I'm always impressed with technology!)

Yesterday, I had a wonderful interview with Raymond Shepard of CKDU Dalhousie Radio. He had all of his... pardon me... "work" together - he most likely actually visited the WTE site - and had prepared a question sheet for me so that I may be more prepared for the interview. He asked a good variety of questions ranging from family to how will I afford to pay for everything I need. I really felt that he had an interest in what I had to say.

After the Interview, he took a moment of his own time to discuss with me his own personal views about the lost generation. I found him to be supportive of the walk, it's goals and mandate, not to mention very communicative and on-the-level. I hope to meet him again in the future.

I suppose my interview with CBC wasn't quite what I had expected. I wasn't really over-prepared, but I was braced for an impact that never came. I thought about his questions too much, I didn't answer with short, direct, concise prases. I waited pounce on the directive, but there was no lead.

As a lesson in the future, I should not anticipate the extremes. Be prepared, but know that anything can happen. Even the simplest of mice can escape the cat watching the wrong hole.