i didn't so much mean to leave speculator, but it was raining filthy cold rain and i thought: i will just poke around a bit and next thing i knew i was on my way to indian lake and then the next thing i knew i was at a potential campsite at lake durant and then all of a sudden i was on the road over to big moose and then at stillwater.
i am lodged for the evening near there, although i think probably not at one basket factory road, just because there's a site that's big and grassy just a little bit farther on.
a long time ago i wrote this to a friend:
i have come for the night out to stillwater reservoir. it is a strange and generous landscape.
to get here you can come from big moose or from number four (yes, that's the name of an alleged town), but from either direction you drive a long way from civilization and then you turn off of the paved road and drive even longer on rough roads. it is so remote that in the winter you can't get near here except by snowmobile. this is the end of the line; mail does not go any farther than here.
after miles and miles of dirt road you come to the end of the road where all of a sudden there is pavement and streetlights. there's a general store/mechanic, hotel/bar/restaurant, a ranger station, and a public toilet. these four buildings are the whole of it out here, except for the picnic table and ferry dock. the ferry will take you and your car out to even more remote places where there are no roads. i hear tell of a very expensive resort somewhere out there, but i've seen no evidence.
one thing that makes this place very handy for me is that the amenities here include a high-speed wireless network.
my address for the time being is 1 basket factory road, a remote campsite off of an obscure singletrack road.
i love it out here.
leaving trumansburg, my home of the last week, it was pleasing to know that i was coming here.
they were very kind to me in tburg; when i arrived this morning i was met at the curb with the request: will you sing for today's offertory?
well, i said, i haven't brought a guitar. i am not prepared.
a guitar was produced for me to play, and so i did it.
i was taken to brunch afterward (eggs benedict) and i was sent away with blessings and with gifts. yesterday i was feeling disjointed and disconnected but the reception i got this morning showed me firmly that i am not disconnected. they were grateful to have me visit with them, but the gratitude properly placed would be mine.
and i made my way up here. on the number four road (once again, not a fourth road, but the road that goes to number four)- on the number four road there's a library of sorts. it's a small shed, of the sort that might contain a utility panel. it's kind of a shallow closet with a roof. people leave books there and they take books from there; you may keep them if you wish and you need not sign them out.
further up the road there's a similar shed labeled "watering hole". it's a faucet that draws on a well. the landowner makes this water supply available to all comers, and for free. when i got there tonight i was third in line. the man filling jugs ahead of me stopped to talk for a while. he asked how i came to be here, and we talked of the weather, life on the road, and all the things (family, pets, livestock) that prevent him from being able to wander the way i do.
almost invariably when i tell people (they ask more often than i'd expect) how and why i am on the road, they have a lot of questions.
to a lot of people the world is a dangerous and threatening place.
i wish to make my world one of surprise and delight. people are kind and generous if you give them the chance. to travel the way i do requires me to trust entirely that i will be brought to places that are interesting and worthwhile, and that i will meet the people i'm supposed to meet.
it matters to me little if i can be of service to them or they to me; it always seems to cut both ways. the web we all make as we connect with others is complex and beautiful; the strands woven around me are bright and taught.
it's time for me to make my way to my campsite.
happily because last night was saturday i had to wash up very thoroughly and today i didn't exert myself, a cursory washing-up will do just fine, which suits me because it's dark, windy, and about 37 degrees out. tonight will be the first hard freeze of the season.
i've traveled 1300 miles since i left home, and i'm tired. i wonder if perhaps it's time to come home, but i feel that there's somewhere i'm supposed to be come sunday.
for now it will be sufficient just to crawl into bed.
good night, good friend;
sleep soundly and well,
wake refreshed.
yours, as ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment