the Roam

I walked downhill for what seemed like an eternity this morning. I joined route 30, the Lincoln Highway that runs from Times Square to San Francisco and plunged into a cut formed by the Juniata River.

I was incredibly nervous this would mean I would have a huge climb ahead of me, but luckily route 30 follows the river as it cuts through ridges and most of the slopes were gentle. Thank you Juniata River you made the day bearable.

Route 30 was for the first half of the day a large 4 lane divided highway. This is a bit unpleasant to walk on just because of the noise but at least it had shoulders and interesting finds like this lil fella

this creepy knit doll lady in the style of Nagoro Japan

and this amazing Cherry Soda. Though it supposedly is cherry flavor it is really a delicious cream soda with a hint of cherry. Loved it.

Alas the road did turn into a two lane country road and departed from the rivers easy company and rose up. I passed through the town where a church had turned down my camping, grabbed a milkshake and fried cheese sticks and headed up out of town into the woods to camp. I hid off of a trail along the top a hill overlooking a giant valley, tomorrow’s first ridge to cross shadowy in the distance.

I was awoken in the middle of the night by bright flashing lights. They pulsed quickly, then slowed down and dimmed in intensity. I was panicked but couldn’t move or make a sound for fear I hadn’t been discovered and any noise would give me away. Perhaps it was just a light on the power line above? Perhaps ghost orbs? Kids playing in the woods? I fell in and out of sleep fitfully for hours until finally laying awake at 2 a.m. I finally pinpointed the source of the light.

The light had seemed to rotate around the tent, different sides glowing bright in the pitch black of a rural night in the woods, a kind of black I only have experience with at my grandparents farm, the abandoned PA turnpike tunnels, and the ammo rooms at the fort on Governors Island. Suddenly above me I saw a point of light brighter than the rest of the glow on the top of the tent…. It was a firefly. Perhaps these Pennsylvania guys are brighter than the Missouri cousins I grew up knowing, or maybe it was just the pitch black providing a larger contrast and my dialated eyes, but he lit up light a flash light was swinging over my tent and pulsed his shiny butt and my fears washed away. I was finally able to sleep without being in a panic.