Sunday, July 6, 2008

Toward Wilimantic CT, the woods.

I need to start taking notes. I'm writing this from my recollection on June 7th. I don't remember much of what happened yesterday. It's all kind of a blur. I went through Hartford, which really lacked the pizazz to knock my socks off. Town slogan - "Hartford: we have a gold building."

I'll cut the mind blowing bicycle experience out, and cut right to 7:21pm. I was sitting in a bar outside of Wilimantic with my first beer, a Stella in a fancy glass. It was a bar located in a niceish restaurant, and it catered to an older crowd to say the very least. There was no gap at the bar, so I occupied one of those tall tables that bars sometimes stash a few feet away. That means the girl who was tending bar had to pour beer, then walk it all over tarnation to get it to me. That's just the way they're set up. Around this point - but moving on to Budweiser in a less fancy glass - I asked the bartender if she knew of any camping. She was a cute girl about my age, and I doubted she was much for camping, but I wanted her answer none the less. She said she knew of a state park, but she didn't think you could camp there. I told her that I could camp there. In answer to her quizzical look, I told her that I had special permission.

The best part of the bar is talking to random people. When a gap opened up, I sat next to someone the same age as my mother, and her husband. We talked for a good long time about the way things are, and what's what. And what I'm up to, and what it's all about. She had a positive attitude, and I'll say whatever I want. So that was great. I think I made a better impression than I was going for. I had a lot of beer, and might be wrong, but I think she said she was happy to have been visited by an angel - that being me. An angel. I'll take that as a compliment. I toasted to her husbands health after having returned from a 7 month stay in hospice.

The bar was closing up after 11, but nobody shooed me out, probably because I tip really well. I helped move all the bar stools to the carpet, and ended up talking about my trip. The bicycle just comes up. If someone asks where I'm from, it leads to an explanation and then a lot of questions. The bartender girl told me about a small white church one mile up the road with tons of property and trees behind it. Perfect.

I slept there. After setting up camp, the next thing I remember is waking up hours later only halfway in the bivy sack and a little chilly. I didn't get up until 8:30 when the church's back yard was getting mowed.

I got breakfast one mile up the road. I'm dirty as hell, and my mohawk is starting to stick up in radically nonsensical fashion just from being dirty. I'm happy. I was having a good ol' time kinda laughing to myself over eggs and homefries. And coffee. I'm not quite ready to not get coffee with eggs and homefries. Homefries.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Shit, I love the everhorsing shit out of this.