I went for my second swim of the day in a lake significantly warmer than the last, on account of it being further west, this side of the continental divide. Perhaps it felt warmer partly because the air was hotter, with 97 showing on the RV thermometer. The first swim was in a well manicured park, where i was preceded by a flotilla of wetsuit clad women who swam into the distance and later returned, each towing a tiny balloon buoy. I should get one of those, because boats. I have a wetsuit in the RV, but i wasn’t expecting to stay long in the pebble ringed water, and i did not.
Neither did i stay too long in this one, but my goggles helped me notice i was sharing it with a million minnows, three indifferent blugreen fish, and a sizeable crayfish. And this internal monologue: “oh what is that white thing” “is that a bone?” “OH SHIT IT’S A LEG” “oh, that is a deer jaw not a human one”. Body dispoal pro-tip: always toss a deer jaw in the mix.
After cooling off i sat by the lake to read. It’s been a rare pleasure, since while my journey has been beautiful it has been infested with hostile bugs, particularly mosquitoes and horseflies, which keep me indoors. I sometimes decide where to stop based on names which linger from long ago. Mosquito Creek is still probably a hard pass, and Swampy Forest is right out.
This spot though is full of bees, dragonflies and other random insects, none of which have deigned to bite me, which is quite frankly a smart move on their part. I’m a well practiced swatter.
Also across the placid lake is a single corvid, occasionally discussing something of monumental importance with itself at full volume. Recently two bald eagles crossed from the trees on the far side of the lake to those on the near side, in animated dialogue, despite then alighting in substantially different trees. I can still see the titular head of one as it surveys a view similar to mine.
There are plovers, or something similar on the shoreline, and canada geese canada honking as they head north to, presumably, Canada.
I’m permitted to stay here up to fourteen days, free of charge, and i have to say at the moment I’m tempted.
I decided I’d read the book about walking an ancient road in Japan and I don’t regret a page of it. The author quotes many prior travelers whose thoughts echo his own, violating spacetime causality, and meeting me here as well. These linguistic wormholes allow my meat brain to be poked and wiggled by theirs, reminding me why i write.
Basho and Santoka are here,
with me,
and the eagles,
and the mountains.
H
Hoyle talks about things