We are going back to the fair.
Brent checked to be sure (the others aren’t constrained by my no-internet policy – the one I promptly broke my first night on-trail), and, yes, he remembered correctly. Dubois was the fair’s next stop after Kittaning. Coincidentally, we’ll be showing up for their last night in Dubois as well. Yep. They really are spending on three days in each town; Kittanning hadn’t been a fluke.
Not to reopen the debate but… come on. Lugging all those rides, setting and tearing it all down, gas costs – I just don’t get it. They miss out on weekend traffic at some of the towns they visit. What kind of action are they getting Tuesday nights in thriving metropolises like Kittaning? Wait, I can tell you; I was there – and few others were.
Self-abusive business models notwithstanding, though, I’m in. I can bear the burden of eating all that delicious food again. Excuse me : I am happy to sample any “alchemical creations” Cal and I commission. And to partake of… other potential enjoyments of the evening; those I can endure as well. If I must. Giggle.
I’ve already consented, but Brent continues with his sale’s pitch. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but after we left the fair, those milk bottles told their friends all about you. You should have heard the things they said; they were BRUTAL. You can’t let that stand; think of your honor… Your Honor.”
“Are you offering to bankroll my vengeance, sensei?”
“Oh, hell no.” Big Brent grin. “But I’ll be standing right behind you as you liberate that porcupine.” Quick glance at his sister, then back to me. “It’s just the right thing to do.”
“Justice shall be served,” I acknowledged.
~~~
To reach Dubois, we need to complete 17 miles today, and we need to do so early enough to reach the fair at a reasonable hour. So, we set Brase loose, unleashed him from his reigns. And Dean eventually swore off projectiles, even though he initially balked at the distance.
“17? We’ll be too tired to actually do anything when we get there. Let’s just have Laurel take us part of the way.”
Marissa being unavailable tonight may be contributing to his lack of motivation.
Still, Brase responded to his complaint by asking me a series of pointed questions, “Prov, what’s your average daily mileage total need to be if you want to reach Rhode Island in time.”
With a sheepish grin I told him. Dean grimaced but Brase wasn’t done.
“And the night you met us in Kittaning, how many miles had you done that day?”
I confessed.
Dean’s grimace slackened; his eyes widened. Then he laughed. “You could have just said, ‘Quit complaining, you lazy bastard.’”
Brase shook his head, “I prefer to let the facts speak for me… you lazy bastard.”
Dean hasn’t complained about the distance since.
~~~
If I was a conspiratorial man – don’t worry, I’m not – I might suggest that the rain ceased, the clouds withdrew, and the sun came out right around the time we finalized going back to the fair. I made this observation aloud, but Dean assured me the meteorological change was all his doing.
“I’ll see about a surrounding the fair in a glowing halo,” he said. “Off in the distance. Real dramatic and biblical; you’ll love it.”
“Would that make us wise men?” Cal asked.
Perhaps too quickly and with too much relish, Brook answered, “Definitely not.”
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I chuckled. “Friends in high places, Dean?”
“I have the Almighty on speed-dial. You need a divinity broker, you talk to me.”
Brooke rolled her eyes, Cal laughed. Ahead of us, Brent was on the phone with Laurel, making arrangements. Brase was… well, Brase was hiking and didn’t have a care in the world.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
~~~
Apologies to the purists, but I like to listen to headphones while I hike. I know I’m supposed to be enjoying the forest’s natural symphony, and for the first day, I did. I enjoyed the lovely sounds of bird calls and bubbling creek beds. But when I realized I needed to cover 21 miles to reach Kittaning on that first, fateful fair night, birdsong and rushing water just didn’t cut it.
Now, when I need a bit of extra oomph in my step, I pop them in again. I keep lagging today, thanks to my constant journal breaks and would never catch up without their assistance.
I forgot to pull them back out during this last catch-me-up, and Brooke took note. “Are those hearing aids?”
From the innocence of her tone, I wasn’t positive she was joking.
“No,” I said, “they’re headphones. For music.” I showed her the MP3 device I use. “It can clip onto anything; very convenient.”
“What are those wires? Do they help you find them if you forget where you put them?”
Ok. Point taken; she was screwing with me.
“No, they’re for...well…” I stammered.
“Give me those.”
And suddenly I was no longer listening to music; Brooke was.
As it turned out, and this came as a surprise to me, she actually liked what I was listening to. Without providing any specific endorsements, just picture a constipated power lifter grunting and howling as he either attempts to set a new P.R. or relieve his colonic congestion. Beneath that, the musical equivalent of a demolition derby in a junkyard during an earthquake. Very soulful, melodic stuff.
That isn’t ALL I listen to, but when you need a flat head, you don’t shove a Phillips into the hole. You know what I’m saying? Right tool for the job. It might not be for everyone, but it is for me.
And apparently it is for Brooke, too. In fact it’s STILL for Brooke. It also seems to have a similar invigorating effect on her, which means that for the last half hour I’ve been drug along on roughly three feet of leash. Every time I tell her, “Here, just take the player,” suddenly she can no longer hear me. Yet, and maybe this is my imagination, the offer still manages to elicit a psychosomatic giggle from the young lady.
There, just like that one.
Are you enjoying listening to me complain about your selective deafness to the world, Miss Brooke?
Huh, what do you know; she didn’t “hear” that, either. Which of us needed the hearing aids?
Ow! Here, just take the --
~~~
We’re making incredible time, even jogging for a few stretches. Brooke finally returned my headphones after I nearly wiped out during one such period.
Since, Cal has monopolized my time with “Alcookforme” sessions, devising countless food combinations to fry tonight. This, while we run. Mostly it’s him hypothesizing, barely winded, while I nod and gasp.
His suggestions have awakened the unfortunately-named “Gut-Lust” in me. I haven’t started hallucinating vats of cooking grease and sizzling breading yet, but it’s coming.
I’m sure by this point, all my talk about Cal and I’s food obsession is becoming tiresome. I mostly put that stuff in here to illustrate something about Cal. He’s a dreamer, a genuine “Anything is possible if you put your mind to it,” kind of guy. I respect and, to a degree, envy that. It’s a big part of what makes him who he is and why he’s such a great, positive person.
When you couple that with his voracious metabolism, though, you get a guy who spends a lot of time thinking about food – what he’s eating, what he will eat, and now, what hitherto undiscovered concoctions he COULD eat.
Me? I’m just a glutton. Ok, that’s not fair. I think my recent biochemical changes caused by near-constant exercise are at least partially to blame. Yes, I would have happily sampled an Elephant Cake a month ago, but just thinking about one wouldn’t have triggered a salivary deluge. The body knows what it needs; what can I say?
The mind? Well, sorry Cal, but that part of me, tolerant of our indulgences as it’s been, is occupied an entirely different, newly-found addiction. Arguably healthier, undeniably less caloric. Put to the choice, I’ll be siding with it.
The mind knows what it needs, too.
~~~
There are whispers, and you didn’t hear this from me, that we may smuggle ourselves into a local gym. The others would prefer to tidy up before we hit the fair. Or, as Brent put it, “I need to get rid of this Trail Funk before I see my lady love.”
I have to say, for someone spending a month hiking in the wilderness, I sure do take a lot of showers.
~~~
We’ve done it. It was a little closer to 18 miles, but we made great time. Now we just need to perform a bit of mildly illegal skin-exfoliation and stench exorcism.
It’s been a good day. This probably goes without saying but, to be clear, I really don’t want this to end. Not today, not the group hike, and DEFINITELY not the relationships blossoming herein.
But it’s been suggested by someone a good dealer wiser than I that, “Goodbyes are only temporary, and hour-long car rides are no big deal.” That was a statement and sentiment to lift the spirits – especially considering who imparted such wisdom.
But those goodbyes don’t need to happen – not just yet. It’s back to the fair for us and all the fun and mischief that entails. Rest assured, you will hear all about it tomorrow.
Wish me luck. I have a porcupine to liberate.