Alabama Getaway. Or is it Get Away!!!

Sunday, April 17, 2011. Piedmont, Alabama. In a McDonald’s, on route 278 westbound.
I woke up this morning in the back semi-hidden grassy lot part of an abandoned storage facility. When I arrived there last night I could not see much of anything save for shadows and light. No detail to speak of, but I didn’t care. I was that tired.
I arrived in Piedmont not on foot, but in the back of a Lincoln Continental, a mercy ride from two strangers, Marty Laminack and his wife Pam, who had passed me twice yesterday, way back in Tallapoosa, Georgia and again on the back unnamed county road that my good old Googlemaps had told me was the best way to get to wherever I am going on foot. Googlemaps is crazy.
When the Laminacks asked me which route I was taking to get to Piedmont, I showed them. They then proceeded to show me something. We loaded my stuff in the trunk of their car (the boot for my British friend Tessa) and Marty told me he would take me to Piedmont via that route so I could see why it wasn’t a good idea. Well, shit. I was facing almost 12 miles of almost unpassable-by-car dirt road, rendered that way by the combination of the bad weather two nights ago and just neglect, I would have rather cut off a leg than try that with my cart. The Laminacks…my saviors! *(That’s “saviours” for my British friend Tessa). Marty figure figured out that I had walked over 25 miles yesterday since I departed Bremen, Georgia, where I had to stay ensconced in the local Walmart all night long due to the tornado warning and watches and realities—17 killed in Mississippi, I hear….
That night in Walmart was a stpry in itself. The manager was kind enough to allow me to store my cart in the alcove where the shopping carts are lined up. Then only problem for me was that because this Walmart is a newer one and the area is not yet developed too much there was nothing around except for a few restaurants. I spent most of the night sitting on a bench near the entrance talking to the lovernight door greeter lady named Donna, an elderly woman who had a slight hunchback and seemed to be in pain quite a bit of the time while standing there. I asked her why she didn’t get a chair or stool to sit on since she was quite elderly. She informed that it was against Walmart policy, and that she was required to stand for her 8 hour shift. So, I have two things to say to Walmart: Thank you for allowing me to hang safely there all night during the storms, and shame on you for treating your human being employees, who make your stores what they are, like fucking sheep. Shame!!!
The bad weather passed and I headed out at 4:00 AM, wanting to make up some time. Almost immediately I realized that after a bad storm system moves out, a front of colder air follows, as happened a couple of weeks ago , when I awoke to ice on the morning after a bad storm killed two people in Georgia. The next night was lovely, so I am hoping tonight will be a good one too.
Yesterday, though, I ended up trying to sleep on my tarp a mile from the Walmart, where I found a church cemetery, but it was just so cold that I decided to keep on walking. And walking. And..well, you get the idea. Til the Laminacks found and rescued me. I get by with a little help from my friends…and some strangers too!
Last night I posted a conundrum on my Facebook wall, wondering if this was worth it, since it certainly has not been the dream I had though it was going to be. In fact, its been more a nightmare at times…and here is what makes it thus: I might have erred in deciding to start in the deep south. Without being judgmental, the south and its reputation are often well deserved. There is a strong anti-Yankee sentiment still in parts of it, and they proudly fly their Confederate flags all over the place, especially in the rural areas. Yesterday a small pickup truck with a large Confederate flag drove straight at me, swerving at the last minute and blowing his horn at me…I expected it to be the song Dixie, but it was just a horn. I have had way too many people come as close to me as possible, on open roads with plenty of room to move over 3 feet, but they do it for sport I guess. I have taken to waling against the traffic so I can at least see what is going to hit me. Add the texting/cellphone/drunk/distracted drivers and it has been a very dangerous thing that I am doing. I was almost beaned by a branch that was sticking out of a logging truck, ducking only at the last second. My closest call yet.
Yesterday, on wild back roads two guys pulled up, smiled toothless grins and asked me “Where y’all going, buddy?” I told them I was walking across the country for charity, and asked where the Alabama line was (I knew I was close). They looked at each other and said “You’re a looooooooonnnnng way from there” and drove off. A few minutes later they came back, stopped again, and told me that the Alabama line was about 3 miles ahead. And left. I dont know if they were messing with me (That’s “having sport with me” for my British friend Tessa) but it worked, because after that encounter every car seemed to have a redneck methhead killer in it…even the blonde cheerleader killer types!
So I lucked out with the Laminacks and their kindness (Marty even bought me dinner) and this morning I woke, cold and damp in a place that I can now see in the daylight seemed to be a place for homeless people or crackheads to hand out). Fortunately, none of either was there last night, although, as exhausted as I was I was unable to easily fall asleep due to shadows and light.
I woke, in fact, to the familiar voices of dear friends from my past, and future. I swear this is true: Here in Piedmont, Alabama, a lone traveller, cold, exhausted, was snapped from his sleep by the honking of Canadian geese as they flew right over my tent, delivering a message from the geese I knew in Ulster County, telling me to hurry up and get a move on so I can go home. And after I get as far west as anyone can walk, I will hear their geese cousins honking once again.
Next stop, Gadsden, Alabama. See you soon.