'People don't like me because I'm a primal-scream jerk,
but I say too bad for that.' I couldn't disagree, after all it
was his canoe I was in and the fast approaching rapids
weren't that happy : I started singing songs - like the
sound-track to movies that made me laugh with their
incisive wit towards real danger. I was thinking to myself,
if there was a way out of this fix, I'd need it about now.
That was two hours ago; now I am walking through the
woods looking at mushrooms and fossils and twigs. The
large limbs of certain trees have already fallen in last week's
storm, the water debris where it was all washed up was
still piled around. I can't find anywhere decent to sit.
So I keep walking. The other guy - him with the canoe -
he's gone and continued up the river. I told him I was
more determined to walk back than he was to go ahead.
Indian scout I ain't. I'd rather find a Porta-John at some
insipid old campground than ever take a dump in these
woods. I can pee in the weeds without any trouble, maybe
even eat something I find along the way - berry bushes,
wild asparagus, dainty little walkway mushrooms. Who knows,
I might eat eleven perfect mushrooms, and only err when I
eat the twelfth. I don't want to die like this, yea, but I'm
still not sure I want to live like this either. Greatest
vacation I ever had - set adrift in the deepest woods.