Night travel

Thursday morning, May 19th.
Salem, OR to Jefferson, OR.

"Pepper" the local cat
Jefferson public library

Weather forecast for Salem on Wednesday called for rain at 11 pm, so I thought sleeping under a roofed shelter would be a good idea. But when an idea doesn't work as planned, sometimes you gotta move on.

Locked my bicycle to a pole in a baseball dugout. Spread blankets on the elevated wood bench. Wrapped my tarp around my body like a cocoon.

The shelter had a roof, but no walls - just fencing. It didn't stop the wind at all. Don't camp by an open field at night. The wind bites hard.

Well, it didn't rain from the sky but water hissed out of the ground. At half past midnight, the sprinklers came on.

Who sets their sprinklers to midnight? I'd start them about three or four in the morning so the ground doesn't molt and when the sun starts baking, the grass has a film of water to protect them.

All the fire hydrants in Jefferson are artistically painted

What did I know? I was just a poor sap getting squirted by sprinklers. I packed my things and wandered the neighborhood for a place to sleep.

A security patrolman turned me away from a brightly lit middle school. I tripped his motion sensors when I walked through the parking lot and he pulled up in his car not five minutes after I arrived.

Inside the school lobby hung a banner with some academic acronym: 'SEE'. Service, Excellence, and something or other. It was so corny, but I bet the teaching staff were required to advocate it for the sake of the students. While the students rolled their eyes and dismissed it as another unavoidable nonsensical thing adults imposed.

"You will make many changes before setting satisfactorily"

I found no suitable campsite on the outskirts of Salem, so I moved on. Pushing my bicycle, up the lane against incoming traffic. A faint LED beam from my action camera tanning the gravel a few steps beyond my front tire.

I think it's safer to be on the lane facing incoming traffic. When there's no shoulder or at night. Move slowly unless I have visibility for miles. I can hear cars before I see their headlights. I can push my bicycle off the road for a car to pass.

It did rain around four in the morning. I felt a subtle mist under my eyes when it started. The sky had been fuming dark clouds the whole length of my walk, but now it looked serious.

I parked my bicycle in a wide gravel pull-off. Pitched my tarp over it for a tent. Ulix and I huddled together and gently the mist fell over us, growing heavier into sprinkles, and then was forgotten.

I tried sleeping under the rain tent with knees to my chest, but I couldn't balance. The blood in my hands was throbbing, so I let go of them.

I put my knees up instead. Scooched down as far as I could on my back. My head still poked out under the tarp, but it wasn't raining anymore.

Night hike

I took a few micro-naps. Daylight would come soon, then I could continue into the next town.

5 am. No cars on the road. No shoulder either. But now I could see what was in front of me, so I mounted my bicycle and coasted in the lane facing incoming traffic. My four hour ETA reduced to an hour.

Jefferson is a small town. The first place of interest was a middle school with roofed bleachers by a running track. I climbed the bleachers, laid my bags down, leaned my bike, and spread my blankets.

I managed two hours of feverish dreams. In my sleep I saw my bicycle, Ulix, and highways.

I fear the road ahead. I fear the mountains, highways with no shoulders, ditches with tall grass, swamps and mud.

The cold wind on a wet rainy night. Blind turns and headlights. Rail guards and bridges. Roads that end on a highway rolling 18 wheeler trucks, where I am but a maggot pushing a cart.

My sleep was cold, bitten by wind. My feet stuck out. When I sat up, I hugged my blanket around me, shivering. I slept some more, sitting with my head on my knees.

The sun called out this morning. There's no warmth. Wet and gray.

20 miles. I walked Salem to Jefferson in the night hours from 1 am to 6 am.

... miles to go before I sleep.
and miles to go before I eat.

I kept seeing the driving time to the next buffet in my mind. 17 minutes. Only 17 minutes. How little I accomplished.