In my little roadside ditch I awoke to a curious farmer driving to and from his field passing me with obvious looks of intrigue. He’d go by one way on the other side of the canal between the field and I then back again leering out his window at what lay in the white tent by his land. Finally I rose myself from bed and packed up all my items then headed off to get caught up in conversation with him as soon as I got up on the pavement.
The old man seemed to like the idea that a drifter laid on his land and gave me some insight on Vale’s layout and where good eatin’ was. He continued to go on through and I was ready for food so I had weaseled my way out of conversation after a bit and head on. Past some road work the village of Vale emerged on the opposite side of a bridge. My first stop was, of course, the library which didn’t open until noon. Being that it was 10:30 I figured maybe I wouldn’t hold breakfast off to the next town and just kill some time there over eggs and pancakes. I ended up at the “R”.
It was the only restaurant on my side of town and was boasted as being the best anyway. I got the Hungry Man burger which was a burger patty with ham, egg, cheese, and bacon on it I believe. With a side of fries and some coffee I reclined to spending the next hour and a half finishing up my reviews of the script so I could send it off from there.
Before leaving I got caught up in conversation with a local who knew the back roads pretty well. A guy by the name of Markus. He gave me the low down on the gravel road I intended to take from Brogan to Bridgeport the next day. The water situation looked minimal but doable with a natural spring 18 miles into the 27 miles pass, so I left feeling enlightened and ready. I realize before I claimed the gravel road to Boise as my last of the trip, but revisiting my intended route it seems there were still two more to go.
At the library I had a bit of a wait to get on, but soon enough I was tapping away at the keys for all you dearies out there. After two hours I departed for the post office sending the script off and a package for the lovely Angela Lee in Denver then hit the road heading due north. Once out of town I broke out the phone.
I called a bunch of folks going from voicemail to voicemail, one of which was to wish the mighty Cox a happy birthday, then finally reached ole Dave in LA for a minute. I talked to Angie some, as well, after that then the battery died and I was left to singing and dancing along the side of my road.
Eleven miles later I came into Willowcreek, home to the Willowcreek Store and Café. This was where I’d intended breakfast to be, but being it was 7pm I figured I had to have dessert there. Feeling frugal I got an apple crisp and a sundae with my coffee. It was the best darn tootin’ apple crisp I’d had across the whole US. I chatted up the waitresses as I ate and told them that only to be received with a sheepish grin. They had run out of their normally homemade apple crisp and cheated with a Cosco one. I felt a bit bad about the comment after that, but it was quite good. After an hour I brushed my teeth and set off for another three miles before bedding down.
Back on the road again I called my mother and visiting aunt back in Jersey. Their main concern was my route so we chatted that over for a while until once again all the charge it had received in Willowcreek faded away. Midway through the call I was summoned by a concerned roadside neighbor who insisted I have some water with me where I was headed so I stuffed that between my bedroll and pack. In three miles I found a spot to bed down and took it.
That night I finally started in on the book Val gave me, This House of Sky. I read the first short chapter and loved it but was too tired to go on so I collapsed into slumber for the night.