Yesterday's full story has been written but I'm saving it for a later time. Its actually too long to blog about but it definitely made it into the book that I'm writing so you'll just have to wait for the gory details. 
Besides, if I shared the details now, I would have a lot of people concerned for my safety. 
The fact is, I'm fine and I will be fine. 
The crazy thing is, there ended up being a link between my luncheon at the Country Club and my walk yesterday. 


Since I'm back on the road again, I'm reminded of many things from my last trek:

*Make sure I'm super hydrated before I leave every morning.
*Pee twice before I head out.
*Know where my resources are on my days trek.
*Stretch before I leave and whenever I stop.
*Don't walk on grassy surfaces because stepping on uneven ground can twist my ankle.
*Use my umbrella when the sun is out. 
*Don't overdo it, this is not a race.

These are all survival things for a comfortable days trek and I've been reminded this week to keep on task with them all. However, the biggest and the most important thing that I seemed to have forgotten, is the dangers of walking on the side of a traffic filled road. 


How is it possible that whenever I let go and let God, EVERYTHING becomes aligned?
My last journey down the East Coast proved this time and time again, and today, in my first day 'out here', affirmation was everywhere.  
It's like I never stopped moving.
It's like when Osprey is on my back and 'Djo' is in my hand, I'm home.
It's as if the God power put me right back on the path where I left 15 months ago without skipping a beat.

It began with me disembarking my 'floating home' and saying good bye to it for an unknown amount of time.


('Van Camp', Ithaca, New York, May 2015)

I need to clear up something...

When I left Ithaca, New York in mid August 2015 with my pack on my back, it was never my intention to return to the life that I had lived. My tolerance for 'corporate chaos' and American capitalism had come to an all time low and I no longer was willing to play the game of working my butt off, paying my bills on time, buying nothing for myself and still not having enough money to feed myself integrally.
I played by the rules for a few decades and somewhere along the way, the game changed. It no longer wanted me to get out of debt nor did it want me to be rewarded for working hard. Emotionally I was shot by doing the right thing in accordance to how I was raised and I no longer wanted to participate in a system that was designed to keep me sick and tired.


There is no question that when I stopped my journey and merged it with my 'southern man' that I had some doubts in my head. 
Am I doing the right thing? 
My 'plan' after my trek was to visit with previous hosts on the East Coast and to relax and to write chapters of my book. I needed to rest a bit and to restore the integrity of my body because it was pretty beat up by the end of my journey and I had so many invitations to give me a 'safe place to fall'. There were lots of women along the way who were inspired by my trek and who wanted to meet me and talk about my experiences. That was my intention; to decompress with those who supported me and to write.

But that didn't happen.


When I'm backpacking along a road, I consider truckers my friends. 
I don't get rides with them because I'm a backpacker not a hitchhiker, but we do relate to one another in a traveling kind of way. 
I wave.
They wave back.