North Grosvenordale to Crystal Lake, Connecticut – July 4, 2017

Constant Reminder

To beat some of the heat, I packed up and cycled for about eighteen miles before stopping at the small town of Union. At the library (closed for the 4th), I filled water bottles at the spigot and did a forty-minute yoga routine on the grass behind the building. I drank two liters of water, ate a Clif Bar and continued on. I alway carry a minimum of two bars in my handlebar bag as a backup when I’m out of “real” food.

Gazing Upward - Union Public Library

Avoid Freecamp

I rode another nine miles in the heat before taking a long break in Stafford Springs. Chicken soup and a grilled pastrami sandwich were quickly consumed at The Middle Ground Cafe. After lunch, especially after I’ve been riding, I get sleepy. Stafford Springs had the foresight to build a small park in the middle of town, perfect for reading, thinking and snoozing. I set up my hammock, settled in and accomplished all three tasks. Three hours past…

Hunkered Down - Stafford Springs Park

At around five thirty, I packed up and cycled up the road, keeping an eye open for a spot to sleep. At Crystal Lake, I checked the local graveyard (flat, but a little too exposed) then ultimately decided decided on a spot in the woods just above the local soccer field. I took my bottle shower and, squeaky clean, moved into my tent for the evening.

Tucked in for the Evening

I’m settling into this free lifestyle. Choices are made in the moment. Around every corner, I know something good will happen. The ever-changing scenery and ample exercise is good for both mind and body. I have no wish to purchase anything but food. I’ve been shown kindness in conversation and by drivers on roads.

I’ve been reading Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman, again this evening. I’ll end with a portion of section 46 that spoke to me:

Section 46, Song of Myself

I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.
I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!)
My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods,
No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange,
But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
My left hand hooking you round the waist,
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.
Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth,
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.

– – – – –

I look forward to tomorrow’s journey…