>>902639As usual, I slept poorly. I didn't have the good thought to bring a sleeping mat, so it was just my bag and tent between my back and the ground.
The next morning, I packed up, and decided to try and walk in the "footsteps of the indians". This proved to be folly. There were, of course, no trails. I followed the river further south, pushing through briars and undergrowth with a slung compound bow and an overloaded pack.
It began to rain. Then it began to pour.
Three miles later, after trudging through mud and thorns, I was thoroughly soaked, and sufficiently sliced. I had finally made it to a road, and I was never so glad to see asphalt in my life. I followed this road west until I reached a bar, where I changed my clothes and socks. The denizens of the bar were rather inquisitive while I was changing; they probably assumed that I was doing heroin in their bathroom or something. I left the bar dry, and decided enough was enough: I left the bow behind, with a note saying "fuck this it's too heavy".
After consulting with the bar owner, it just so happened that his establishment was located on route 534; he instructed me that, should I head north, I would reach Interstate 90, and could easily make my way to Cleveland. After leaving the bar, I walked a few miles north and refilled my water at an autoshop; the guys there were cool enough to let me have some.
At this point I decided it would be a good idea to eat the ENTIRE EIGHTH OF SHROOMS.
cont. after smokarooo
