(previous chapter)
The RV in our caravan was having some issues and needed a new part. In addition, having had to flee the gathering in such a hurry, we wanted some extra time to catch our barrings. We pulled into a pay-to-camp campground that was outside of area now being investigated, but still inside the Apalachicola National Forest. Paid in full for our campsites for the night, the Forest Service showed up at our location and demanded we be out by 9 am, when we were paid for through to noon. We agreed, though, and they left us in peace for the most part the rest of the night.
The campground had limited showers, so some of our large group were able to get showers at this point. I had been incubating an illness acquired, I assume, from the shared cup of espresso that passed around a circle at the Hookah Lounge; pretty much everyone there had gotten sick. I contacted my grandma and asked her to wire me a little bit of money for medicine, food, and a contribution of gas for the caravan.
One of the elders, we'll call him Mr. Tea, was having an argument with one of his crew, Goose. Mr. Tea wanted Goose to gather firewood so a meal could be prepared for that night. Goose was complaining he had hemorrhoids that were acting up, indicating instead that I should do it. Mr. Tea asked if I would help gather some wood, and I said that I would, but not if Goose was also not gathering wood as I was also sick. Mr. Tea said that was fair and we were both put to work.
While gathering wood, I caught a whiff of potent marijuana coming from a camper/RV and determined I'd stop back there when I was done. I did, and the elderly couple there turned out to be involved in the family. They had made us all peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, which I helped satellite to our dispersed group since I was already talking to the couple. I mentioned that I had caught a whiff of cannabis when walking by their camp earlier. The man told me I probably did, as his wife was making cookies. I offered to trade him for a little bud, but he refused, promising that I would get one of the cookies.
I did get one of the cookies, and it was incredibly potent. Actually scared me a bit because, between my illness, which had almost closed off my throat that night, and the strength of the cookie, I believed for awhile that I had been dosed with mushrooms too.
Thanks to Brand X Kitchen, we had a great meal that night.
The next morning, the Forest Service showed up at 8 am and asked if we could be out in 15 minutes, when they had promised us 9 am the day before. We said that was unrealistic, and settled on 45 minutes as an agreement. It took us a little over 30. The Forest Service followed us all the way out of the woods and down the main road, until we had passed the sign that said we had left the Apalachicola National Forest.
The RV was still having trouble, however, and we weren't ready to leave on too long of a distance journey just yet. We stopped at a Walmart in Florida and the head of Brand X got permission from the Walmart to stay in the parking lot while we got the RV repaired. However, we couldn't go inside the store, even to use the bathroom, unless we were buying something, and we had to stay off in the corner of the parking lot and not interfere with their customers. Most of us camped in the woods behind the Walmart, though I don't think the Walmart knew that. It kept us out of the parking lot during the day, too.
I took the time to get the moneygram from my grandma while at the Walmart, picking up some throat spray, cough drops, and a little food and snacks to pass out. What was left, I gave to Mama Frea.
The next morning, since we couldn't use the bathroom in Walmart, I did my morning constitutional in the nearby Burger King, deciding I may as well get my breakfast while I was there. Some nice, crazy old lady was telling her coworkers a story they weren't paying attention to, so she just continued her story to me from mid-sentence as if she had been talking to me the whole time. I noticed she was wearing some pins on her hat from work, and asked her if she'd trade me one that had a star on it and said Burger King, and she just gave it to me, telling me about a pair of patch pants she used to have with patches she'd get from naval men.
The head of Brand X found the part he needed for the RV, and someone to put it on, but it was still going to be a couple days until he would be available to do so. In the meantime, many of us had our beards, and some their heads, shaved. I just lost my beard. Also, a generous trucker with plenty of spare shower tickets got us all a shower.
A sheriff did come by each day to check on us, but mostly left us alone. We reassured him we were headed out of the state as soon as we were able.
Once we got going, we made our way into the Talladega National Forest in Alabama, where we set up camp for the night. Mama Frea told me to tear down early in the morning, though. The car was stolen and we were leaving the Wolfpack crew behind, cutting the caravan down to just the RV and the van.
From there, we made our way to Anniston.
(next chapter)
Showing posts with label alabama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alabama. Show all posts
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Saturday, September 26, 2015
What A Ride: Apalachicola
(previous chapter)
There weren't many people at holding camp when I arrived, as most people were still in transition from the Ocala gathering. The only camp I remember being set up was Wolfpack 13, though there were a few others.
When we pulled into the campground, I rolled down the window and shouted out the window, "Are we home?"
One of the members of Wolfpack answered, "Are you home? Yes, you're home. Welcome home!"
The man who gave me a ride and I set up camp just off the road, where a fire-pit was already in existence. I kept a stock of wood for fires at night, and making breakfast and coffee in the morning. My ride left after only a few days to go pick up his woman, leaving me with plenty of supplies to feast on. I donated something around half of it to the Stockpot Kitchen, which had become my favorite at Ocala for its very welcoming atmosphere.
An overdose happened very early on at holding camp after a family member consumed a bunch of Benadryl capsules to achieve a high and ended up in the hospital. An emergency council was called to decide on how to act, and one of the members of the family that had not intervened was saved from excommunication for inaction due to a vote that determined that, while sad, the party that had overdosed was an adult - just barely - acting on his own free will. He survived, by the way.
The lake we were gathered beside had been ravaged by Florida State University students that would often come to party, leaving a gigantic mess of nails, broken glass, and other items of trash strewn all around, but focused on the beach. You could shift through the sand for hours in the same place and still be picking up trash. Starting with a girl named Katie, her boyfriend Bo, and myself, we began picking up the mess. The first day was just us, but after that we had an entire group. All we had to do was clean. Other members of the family would satellite us food, drinks, and anything else we might need. I began sorting through the broken glass for pieces to turn into jewelry to reduce the amount being tossed. It wasn't enough. Even with a whole, dedicated group that spent most of their days picking up garbage, there was still trash to be gathered when we left to the actual gathering.
The Forest Service officials that interacted with family were grateful for the effort, giving us a great permit for the Apalachicola gathering, including an extension for cleanup if needed.
I joined up with the Hookah Lounge as a barista at seed camp. I spent almost all of my time there when I wasn't cleaning to keep myself caffeinated and in good company, anyway, so I figured I could learn how to make their (s)expresso (espresso with sweet and condensed milk) and take shifts as barista/host. I traveled with the Hookah Lounge to the Apalachicola seed camp from holding camp
Overall, Apalachicola was a more relaxed gathering than Ocala, with very minimal interference from law enforcement. Well, until the shooting happened.
Towards the end of seed camp, a group of projects kids were engaging in their tradition of burning a tire. The shooter thought he'd record it with his camera, but one of the gatherers took his camera and smashed it. The shooter went back to his truck for his gun, then opened fire, went through a clip, reloaded, then began firing again. Family did what they could to contain the situation and subdue the shooter. Smiley lost his life, while Dice was injured to the point of paralysis. The shooter was also placed in critical condition, having been stabbed multiple times, castrated, and being nearly beaten to death. The mamas came in last minute, claiming he needed to live with what he'd done.
All this, the night after some Front Gaters sought to beat an attendee named Dale for false accusations of him beating his woman. What really happened was a verbal argument between Dale and his woman that a Front Gater stepped in on and picked a fight with Dale over. Dale won, and the Front Gater got his friends. Being afraid for his life, Dale hid while the search party sought him out. I found an elder to call an emergency council, but first Dale had to be brought back to the elder's camp for sanctuary. That elder was Greywolf. I went on a reconnaissance mission to sneak Dale into Greywolf's camp, where he was sheltered until council decided he could leave the woods without confrontation, but he had to leave immediately. His woman went with him, though she was not made to.
Healing council the morning after the shooting, a picture of Dale and Smiley was passed around a circle. The person who had died, and the person that would have likely died had I not stepped in the night before the shooting. It was kind of a surreal moment for me to see the picture.
Law enforcement had set up roadblocks to keep gatherers in and newcomers out while they searched for the murder weapon they had already secured after responding to the shooting, but subsequently lost. Their claim was that all they wanted was the gun, and if it was not turned over in a set amount of time, then a judge was going to sign a blanket search warrant for all gatherers. The whole forest had its mission for the day, with everyone wanting to just find the gun and turn it over to the authorities.
When the deadline to turn the gun over had almost past, the law enforcement officials claimed they found the gun and left. The next day, they came back, claimed it wasn't the gun, and demanded all gatherers be out withing 36 hours, setting into motion a frenzied tear-down of camps that left much cleanup to still be done by the time everyone had evacuated. I acquired a tarp and rope that had been left behind during the mess, and a group that provided family with necessary gear gave me a new tent.
Since everyone was fleeing the gathering so early, there was not much time for me to figure out my ride situation and where I'd be going now. Nano and Mama Frea from the Hookah Lounge had split up, and rides for the Hookah Lounge's staff became uncertain as the van belonged to Mama Frea. Mama Frea gave me permission to accompany her into Alabama, so I left with a caravan of three vehicles - Mama Frea's van, a car with Wolfpack 13, and the RV transporting Brand X Kitchen.
(next chapter)
There weren't many people at holding camp when I arrived, as most people were still in transition from the Ocala gathering. The only camp I remember being set up was Wolfpack 13, though there were a few others.
When we pulled into the campground, I rolled down the window and shouted out the window, "Are we home?"
One of the members of Wolfpack answered, "Are you home? Yes, you're home. Welcome home!"
The man who gave me a ride and I set up camp just off the road, where a fire-pit was already in existence. I kept a stock of wood for fires at night, and making breakfast and coffee in the morning. My ride left after only a few days to go pick up his woman, leaving me with plenty of supplies to feast on. I donated something around half of it to the Stockpot Kitchen, which had become my favorite at Ocala for its very welcoming atmosphere.
An overdose happened very early on at holding camp after a family member consumed a bunch of Benadryl capsules to achieve a high and ended up in the hospital. An emergency council was called to decide on how to act, and one of the members of the family that had not intervened was saved from excommunication for inaction due to a vote that determined that, while sad, the party that had overdosed was an adult - just barely - acting on his own free will. He survived, by the way.
The lake we were gathered beside had been ravaged by Florida State University students that would often come to party, leaving a gigantic mess of nails, broken glass, and other items of trash strewn all around, but focused on the beach. You could shift through the sand for hours in the same place and still be picking up trash. Starting with a girl named Katie, her boyfriend Bo, and myself, we began picking up the mess. The first day was just us, but after that we had an entire group. All we had to do was clean. Other members of the family would satellite us food, drinks, and anything else we might need. I began sorting through the broken glass for pieces to turn into jewelry to reduce the amount being tossed. It wasn't enough. Even with a whole, dedicated group that spent most of their days picking up garbage, there was still trash to be gathered when we left to the actual gathering.
The Forest Service officials that interacted with family were grateful for the effort, giving us a great permit for the Apalachicola gathering, including an extension for cleanup if needed.
I joined up with the Hookah Lounge as a barista at seed camp. I spent almost all of my time there when I wasn't cleaning to keep myself caffeinated and in good company, anyway, so I figured I could learn how to make their (s)expresso (espresso with sweet and condensed milk) and take shifts as barista/host. I traveled with the Hookah Lounge to the Apalachicola seed camp from holding camp
Overall, Apalachicola was a more relaxed gathering than Ocala, with very minimal interference from law enforcement. Well, until the shooting happened.
Towards the end of seed camp, a group of projects kids were engaging in their tradition of burning a tire. The shooter thought he'd record it with his camera, but one of the gatherers took his camera and smashed it. The shooter went back to his truck for his gun, then opened fire, went through a clip, reloaded, then began firing again. Family did what they could to contain the situation and subdue the shooter. Smiley lost his life, while Dice was injured to the point of paralysis. The shooter was also placed in critical condition, having been stabbed multiple times, castrated, and being nearly beaten to death. The mamas came in last minute, claiming he needed to live with what he'd done.
All this, the night after some Front Gaters sought to beat an attendee named Dale for false accusations of him beating his woman. What really happened was a verbal argument between Dale and his woman that a Front Gater stepped in on and picked a fight with Dale over. Dale won, and the Front Gater got his friends. Being afraid for his life, Dale hid while the search party sought him out. I found an elder to call an emergency council, but first Dale had to be brought back to the elder's camp for sanctuary. That elder was Greywolf. I went on a reconnaissance mission to sneak Dale into Greywolf's camp, where he was sheltered until council decided he could leave the woods without confrontation, but he had to leave immediately. His woman went with him, though she was not made to.
Healing council the morning after the shooting, a picture of Dale and Smiley was passed around a circle. The person who had died, and the person that would have likely died had I not stepped in the night before the shooting. It was kind of a surreal moment for me to see the picture.
Law enforcement had set up roadblocks to keep gatherers in and newcomers out while they searched for the murder weapon they had already secured after responding to the shooting, but subsequently lost. Their claim was that all they wanted was the gun, and if it was not turned over in a set amount of time, then a judge was going to sign a blanket search warrant for all gatherers. The whole forest had its mission for the day, with everyone wanting to just find the gun and turn it over to the authorities.
When the deadline to turn the gun over had almost past, the law enforcement officials claimed they found the gun and left. The next day, they came back, claimed it wasn't the gun, and demanded all gatherers be out withing 36 hours, setting into motion a frenzied tear-down of camps that left much cleanup to still be done by the time everyone had evacuated. I acquired a tarp and rope that had been left behind during the mess, and a group that provided family with necessary gear gave me a new tent.
Since everyone was fleeing the gathering so early, there was not much time for me to figure out my ride situation and where I'd be going now. Nano and Mama Frea from the Hookah Lounge had split up, and rides for the Hookah Lounge's staff became uncertain as the van belonged to Mama Frea. Mama Frea gave me permission to accompany her into Alabama, so I left with a caravan of three vehicles - Mama Frea's van, a car with Wolfpack 13, and the RV transporting Brand X Kitchen.
(next chapter)
Sunday, September 6, 2015
What A Ride: To Ocala Part 1
(previous chapter)
One of my uncles was on his way to visit some of his family in South Carolina when I was getting ready to leave, so I caught a good ride out of Ohio. We left early in the morning and arrived just outside of Spartanburg that night. I stayed with his family since it was late, but it wasn't long before I was on my own the next morning.
I got dropped off on HW 176, choosing to avoid the interstate at first since I wouldn't be able to just walk the interstate if I didn't get a ride, as Charleston was still in the back of my mind. Then, I set off south to the tune of "Wagon Wheel" on loop in my head.
My first ride came from a friendly, older fellow that took me as far as Union, SC, then gave me a nice camouflage jacket to help keep me warm. I continued walking from there as the sun got lower and the temperature got colder.
On the outskirts of Union, outside of the actual city itself, I encountered a man named Dale, and his girlfriend. Dale had called me over to his side of the road when he noticed the large backpack on my back. In a period of "roughing it" himself, Dale was curious why I was carrying such a load around. We began to chat and ponder over the workings of the universe, synchronicity, and things happening for a reason, while I enjoyed a meal he had given me. I asked if he knew a place I could set up camp for the night, as the light was fading rapidly, still in early January. In response, he and his girlfriend called the pastor of Philippi Baptist Church of Union, who was away on church business at the time. Even though he was wasn't in town, the pastor still set me up with a room at the Magunison Motel for the night, where I was able to shower and rest in a comfortable bed.
The next day, Dale was going to run me to Whitmire, the next town over. Instead, we just ended up running around together. We hung out with some of Dale's friends, including one that gave me an extra bag with wheels to pull behind me, and one that said he'd get me to Charleston, SC the next day. And Dale ended up breaking up with his girlfriend, but that's another matter. Dale also traded me a lifesaving jumpsuit for the jacket my ride the previous day had given me. I ended up crashing out on the couch at Dale's that night.
Dale's friend gave me the ride to Charleston the next day, but it wasn't until later in the day and the sun had already set by the time we got there. I wasn't comfortable in such a big city at night when I didn't know much about the place, so I had Dale's friend take me to a free campsite in Francis Marion National Forest.
The next day was a long walk back to Charleston along HW 17. It took a few hours just to leave the forest, then another couple hours of walking before I finally caught a ride with some older black gentlemen. When they dropped me off in Charleston, a group of more blacks on a job-site gave me advise on the city bus system, then tried to outdo each other in the amount of money they gave me. Since I had left with almost nothing, that had been a welcome and needed surprise.
The bus didn't seem keen to pick me up, though. I sat at the bus stop for a couple hours as buses went passed with no sign they intended to stop. Eventually, I called the line and a bus stopped shortly after. I rode to where I'd catch the next bus, then rode that bus as far as they went towards leaving town.
I ate some Burger King before going on down the road. Some man stopped me and offered me a place to shower and rest for the night in the motel room he was staying at. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but the fact that his first question to me had been how would I respond if someone took all my things, which left me with a red flag big enough to turn the offer down. He kept persisting that I stay. He was also drunk. I insisted that I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped to rest and kept walking. He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with as the distance between us grew, which solidified my decision to keep going.
I took HW 17, also known as Savannah Highway, south out of Charleston. It was dark by the time I set up camp that night. I had wandered into some neighborhood off the highway with a path into a wooded area where I could conceal myself.
I hit the highway again in the morning, making it to a gas station where the manager gave me some cardboard and free food she was about to toss out. I put "Georgia" on the cardboard and enjoyed the gift of food while standing on the other side of the road from the gas station, trying to catch a ride. It was actually a pretty attractive woman that picked me up. She was on her way to Florida and decided to turn around and come back to give me a ride after passing by the first time.
My next destination was Richmond Hill, GA. I was supposed to meet up with another traveler on his way to Ocala there, though he was a few days behind in his journey. From there, I was supposed to continue south to St. Mary's, GA to meet up with a friend from Nelsonville, Ohio that had moved away. I made it to Richmond Hill, but those other two things never happened.
The woman let me out at the McDonald's in Richmond Hill. No sooner had I left the ride that a man, Gypsy, comes out of the restaurant and asked if I was traveling, and if I was hungry. He told me to come inside, then bought me four McChickens.
As it turned out, there were quite a few dirty kids in town at the moment. There was Gypsy, his wife Virgo, and another four kids - I can't remember everyone's names, but for the sake of anyone who may recognize his traveling name, Strings was one of the four. I include that information because I've since met many other people who've claimed to have known Strings since he was a young, naming him as an inspiration they began traveling. Unfortunately, Strings and some other kid got a ride out shortly after I got there, so I didn't really get to know him. The rest of us hung out in the McDonald's until it got late enough to go set up camp in the woods behind the restaurant.
The woods we camped in was obviously a bum camp already, with a tarp strung up for shelter and other trash around the site. After creating some bridges across a couple creeks, we could also reach some railroad tracks at a location where trains would often stop so one train could pass another. We spent the night at the bum camp, then went back to the McDonald's the next morning. We hung out there for awhile, but by around 4:00 in the afternoon we were back in the camp, waiting on a train.
We had to be quick finding a place when the southbound stopped. I was the last one on, and the train began moving again as I began stepping up on it, temporarily knocking me off balance. It was my first time hopping, so I shared a car with Virgo and Gypsy. The other two kids took the car in front of us. I decided to leave my extra bag, which had really been more of a hindrance anyway.
Being on the outside of a moving train left me pretty nervous at first, but the nerves quickly subsided once I settled into place. The view was incredible! Unfortunately, it wasn't the train we were looking for.
When we hopped, we were expecting to be in Jacksonville around 6:00 that day, having hopped around 4:00. The course the train took seemed strange to the more experienced rail-riders I was with once we started noticing the towns we were passing through. We assumed the train was headed for the station in Waycross, GA, where we might have needed to be ready to get off in a hurry, or perhaps to Tallahassee. Then, we passed right through the Waycross station without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping, confusing our party as to where we were going more, as we were now headed north-west.
While the view and experience made everything worth it, what was to be a couple hour ride into Florida became an all-night ride to just outside of Birmingham, AL. We spent the whole time joking about the ride, saying that one of us should go ask the conductor where we were going, demand the train go to Florida, or that he knew we were there and had gone off-course just to mess with us. We had, after all, passed plenty of railroad workers that either didn't see us, or looked the other way. We waved at plenty of pedestrians as we passed, including some people that slowed their car down to videotape us with their phone. I imagine the footage is on YouTube somewhere. The night was pretty cold on the outside of a moving train, even with my jumpsuit and sleeping bag. It could have easily been a longer ride to who knows where, but when the train finally finally stopped somewhere it seemed reasonable to get off in the morning, we decided the ride had already been ridiculous enough.
(next chapter)
One of my uncles was on his way to visit some of his family in South Carolina when I was getting ready to leave, so I caught a good ride out of Ohio. We left early in the morning and arrived just outside of Spartanburg that night. I stayed with his family since it was late, but it wasn't long before I was on my own the next morning.
I got dropped off on HW 176, choosing to avoid the interstate at first since I wouldn't be able to just walk the interstate if I didn't get a ride, as Charleston was still in the back of my mind. Then, I set off south to the tune of "Wagon Wheel" on loop in my head.
My first ride came from a friendly, older fellow that took me as far as Union, SC, then gave me a nice camouflage jacket to help keep me warm. I continued walking from there as the sun got lower and the temperature got colder.
On the outskirts of Union, outside of the actual city itself, I encountered a man named Dale, and his girlfriend. Dale had called me over to his side of the road when he noticed the large backpack on my back. In a period of "roughing it" himself, Dale was curious why I was carrying such a load around. We began to chat and ponder over the workings of the universe, synchronicity, and things happening for a reason, while I enjoyed a meal he had given me. I asked if he knew a place I could set up camp for the night, as the light was fading rapidly, still in early January. In response, he and his girlfriend called the pastor of Philippi Baptist Church of Union, who was away on church business at the time. Even though he was wasn't in town, the pastor still set me up with a room at the Magunison Motel for the night, where I was able to shower and rest in a comfortable bed.
The next day, Dale was going to run me to Whitmire, the next town over. Instead, we just ended up running around together. We hung out with some of Dale's friends, including one that gave me an extra bag with wheels to pull behind me, and one that said he'd get me to Charleston, SC the next day. And Dale ended up breaking up with his girlfriend, but that's another matter. Dale also traded me a lifesaving jumpsuit for the jacket my ride the previous day had given me. I ended up crashing out on the couch at Dale's that night.
Dale's friend gave me the ride to Charleston the next day, but it wasn't until later in the day and the sun had already set by the time we got there. I wasn't comfortable in such a big city at night when I didn't know much about the place, so I had Dale's friend take me to a free campsite in Francis Marion National Forest.
The next day was a long walk back to Charleston along HW 17. It took a few hours just to leave the forest, then another couple hours of walking before I finally caught a ride with some older black gentlemen. When they dropped me off in Charleston, a group of more blacks on a job-site gave me advise on the city bus system, then tried to outdo each other in the amount of money they gave me. Since I had left with almost nothing, that had been a welcome and needed surprise.
The bus didn't seem keen to pick me up, though. I sat at the bus stop for a couple hours as buses went passed with no sign they intended to stop. Eventually, I called the line and a bus stopped shortly after. I rode to where I'd catch the next bus, then rode that bus as far as they went towards leaving town.
I ate some Burger King before going on down the road. Some man stopped me and offered me a place to shower and rest for the night in the motel room he was staying at. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but the fact that his first question to me had been how would I respond if someone took all my things, which left me with a red flag big enough to turn the offer down. He kept persisting that I stay. He was also drunk. I insisted that I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped to rest and kept walking. He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with as the distance between us grew, which solidified my decision to keep going.
I took HW 17, also known as Savannah Highway, south out of Charleston. It was dark by the time I set up camp that night. I had wandered into some neighborhood off the highway with a path into a wooded area where I could conceal myself.
I hit the highway again in the morning, making it to a gas station where the manager gave me some cardboard and free food she was about to toss out. I put "Georgia" on the cardboard and enjoyed the gift of food while standing on the other side of the road from the gas station, trying to catch a ride. It was actually a pretty attractive woman that picked me up. She was on her way to Florida and decided to turn around and come back to give me a ride after passing by the first time.
My next destination was Richmond Hill, GA. I was supposed to meet up with another traveler on his way to Ocala there, though he was a few days behind in his journey. From there, I was supposed to continue south to St. Mary's, GA to meet up with a friend from Nelsonville, Ohio that had moved away. I made it to Richmond Hill, but those other two things never happened.
The woman let me out at the McDonald's in Richmond Hill. No sooner had I left the ride that a man, Gypsy, comes out of the restaurant and asked if I was traveling, and if I was hungry. He told me to come inside, then bought me four McChickens.
As it turned out, there were quite a few dirty kids in town at the moment. There was Gypsy, his wife Virgo, and another four kids - I can't remember everyone's names, but for the sake of anyone who may recognize his traveling name, Strings was one of the four. I include that information because I've since met many other people who've claimed to have known Strings since he was a young, naming him as an inspiration they began traveling. Unfortunately, Strings and some other kid got a ride out shortly after I got there, so I didn't really get to know him. The rest of us hung out in the McDonald's until it got late enough to go set up camp in the woods behind the restaurant.
The woods we camped in was obviously a bum camp already, with a tarp strung up for shelter and other trash around the site. After creating some bridges across a couple creeks, we could also reach some railroad tracks at a location where trains would often stop so one train could pass another. We spent the night at the bum camp, then went back to the McDonald's the next morning. We hung out there for awhile, but by around 4:00 in the afternoon we were back in the camp, waiting on a train.
We had to be quick finding a place when the southbound stopped. I was the last one on, and the train began moving again as I began stepping up on it, temporarily knocking me off balance. It was my first time hopping, so I shared a car with Virgo and Gypsy. The other two kids took the car in front of us. I decided to leave my extra bag, which had really been more of a hindrance anyway.
Being on the outside of a moving train left me pretty nervous at first, but the nerves quickly subsided once I settled into place. The view was incredible! Unfortunately, it wasn't the train we were looking for.
When we hopped, we were expecting to be in Jacksonville around 6:00 that day, having hopped around 4:00. The course the train took seemed strange to the more experienced rail-riders I was with once we started noticing the towns we were passing through. We assumed the train was headed for the station in Waycross, GA, where we might have needed to be ready to get off in a hurry, or perhaps to Tallahassee. Then, we passed right through the Waycross station without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping, confusing our party as to where we were going more, as we were now headed north-west.
While the view and experience made everything worth it, what was to be a couple hour ride into Florida became an all-night ride to just outside of Birmingham, AL. We spent the whole time joking about the ride, saying that one of us should go ask the conductor where we were going, demand the train go to Florida, or that he knew we were there and had gone off-course just to mess with us. We had, after all, passed plenty of railroad workers that either didn't see us, or looked the other way. We waved at plenty of pedestrians as we passed, including some people that slowed their car down to videotape us with their phone. I imagine the footage is on YouTube somewhere. The night was pretty cold on the outside of a moving train, even with my jumpsuit and sleeping bag. It could have easily been a longer ride to who knows where, but when the train finally finally stopped somewhere it seemed reasonable to get off in the morning, we decided the ride had already been ridiculous enough.
(next chapter)
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