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posted : 2005.Aug.14 @ 5.38pm
hello fellow pod-hoppers. i write to you from a distant dial up connection somewhere in the vicinity of Haliburton Ontario. Its been an interesting summer full of excitement, adventure and limited internet access. in the times that i have had access to pod it seems that i spend all my time catching up and not posting. anyhow i really should get back on track and share a leetle bit of the quasi-interesting things that are going on in my ragamuffin life.

Most of you probably don't know but last year i started what i hope to be a continuous art project. Its called "Walk For The Cure: From Cars." The first installment of these walks was completed last summer when i walked from Hope B.C. to Nelson B.C. well i shouldn't say i completed it as my original intent was to walk across the entire breadth of this fine country called Canada. I was cut short when i ran out of funds. i'm not quite sure what i was thinking trying to walk 7000kms on $800, but you can't blame a guy for trying.

This year I have taken a different approach. I managed to save a considerable chunk of money and have decided to walk across just one province (or at least start with just one.) This year's walk will take me across the fair island of Newfoundland. Starting in St. John's walking towards the setting sun. Its bound to be entertaining. full of great scenery and stories which i hope to share with you all as i walk. (providing they have access to the internet out there.) I have been led to believe that the Locals are a little backwards. Something about patenting screen doors for submarines. I'm pretty sure that this is a false fact though.

anyhow thank you all for posting such wonderful stuff in these electronic halls. inspiring. and stay tuned for more oddness in the podness. my plane leaves for St. John's on Aug 18th.

walka-walka-walka







posted : 2005.Aug.14 @ 5.53pm
Greetings good Veldstra form a little net cafe
in Cabarete, a bustling little surf town in the Dominican Republic.

Your adventures are always fantastic and inspiring.
I look forward to reading your poetic expressions
as you ride the spirit of a gentle breeze
blowing through Newfoundland.

I suggest that you should find a way to publicize your walk more too,
as there are a thousands others would tune into your adventurous spirit
if only they knew of it. Especally if you post pics or a diary as you go.

Perhaps if you just keep telling everybody about your flow,
and ritualize it- the wave will grow.

Your art is the art of life,
and it is beautiful work.

Frog Buddha







posted : 2005.Aug.19 @ 10.28am
thanks phong down south eh? mmm id like to winter there. anyhow here's the story so far

*****

here i sit in another internet cafe smack in the heart of St. John's Newfoundland. I've been here maybe 14 hours or so. the flight was a little bumpy and the 3 hour layover in halifax was a bit dull. it livened up when i struck up a conversation with john from St. John's. he assured me that i would have a great time walking across the island, and to expect some real good Newfie hospitality. So far he has been partly right. i have yet to experience hospitality. they are quite friendly though, even if they give poor directions.

It was raining when i left the airport at 10 last night. that blowing misting kind of rain that wets one to the marrow. after getting lost several times and asking for directions from every adventerous soul out in the soup, i finally made it down town. that being accomplished i looked for a cheap motel. there is no room for under $50 here. its all $80 plus. so i had to kybosh my plan for a bed for the first night. so instead i drank a few pints at a local saloon. A man who worked at the local brewery "Quidi Vidi," explained all the processes involved in making beverage i was consuming as it was drunk. i stumbled out of there at a quater to 2 and the misting had stopped. it was then a short 3 km hike up signal hill to the barrens where i smoked a joint and unfurled my brand new sleeping bag under a full moon over the harbour

I woke to the sun rising over the serene Atlantic. there i was the furthest east i have ever been. watching mr. burning hydrogen painting one of his prettier pastle pictures. the start of the newest adventure.

I debated waiting around on signal hill for the Geo Centre to open, but instead i just ate the blueberries growin on the front lawn and peaked through the windows. leaving a blue stain on the glass. in hind sight perhaps i should've waited. i do enjoy rocks, and i do enjoy learning. oh well i'll have to come back this town is to much. It would take a month of binge drinking to frequent all the pubs here, and the history is spewing out from between the curbstones.


Today has been alright. i got lost some more looking for a thrift store. Where i purchased a good-used harris tweed. then i paid $5 to see "the rooms" of Newfie culture. its this new art gallery/museum/archive/theater building recently erected by the province of Newfoundland and Labrador. quite a looker of a building. at first i thought it was some strange Masonic Temple, as it had all the bold and heavy architecture of a cult headquaters. i was plesently surprised to find out that it was in fact not. about an hour ago i finally found mile zero of the trail. My pack awaits me there. as soon as i finish here and get one last little parcel of supplies i will be walking up and out. according to my map. I have a 30km jaunt along the seaside before the trail heads inland for a while. i am riddled with excitement. bogs and barrens here i come!!!







posted : 2005.Aug.23 @ 2.32pm
well well well. i am eatin me own words. who would have thought one could get lost following a train track? not me in anycase. it happened though. lets start where i left off. so as to be chronological and such.

Soes that night after i wrote the last letter, i had a few to many down in the pub. me and this fellah named stephane took advantage of the Friday special at the spur. a beautiful dank pit right on water street. he spent most of the night trying to convince me that i would have a much better time in newfoundland if i stayed where i was. he didn't convince me though. i staggered back to my pack at around 11 where i slept like a log.

The next morning i woke to find myself convieniently located next to a tim hortons, soes i stopped in for me morning cup a java. on the way over i ran into stephan again. he tried to be congienial and carry on a conversation but cut it off sayin "I'd better get ta home." we parted ways again, and i thanked my diligence in sayin no to one more round.

that day i walked, and walked, and walked. all day. the path was excellent. your average bike path in any town. then just outside of paradise it turned a little ugly. there were huge divots in the path every meter or so. would've been real agrevating had i chose a bike for this journey. it was nice though. the trail wound through some beautiful lakes and past some gorgeous cottages. at one point the trail turned into a gravel road (potholes still included), and brought me through some nice back woods towns. I got to Conception Bay South round about 8:30 ended up making a little hunker out of a park bench next to the ocean. best one to date if i do say so meself. it was another glorious sunset that evening.

the next day i rode back into town for a coffee. chatted up some locals, and then headed back out to the trail. i walked next to the shore until noon, when i was stopped by a bright smile on an atv. His name was Ed. quite nice. He asked me where i was headed, i told him Port aux Basque. to which he replied "Gees bye, got lot a walking ahead of ya. would you like a lift?" its always been hard for me to pass up a ride especially when the person is so friendly. so i obliged. "i can take ye as far as Mars (Mahers)." well if i thought the potholes were hard on the walking they were worse on the the back of a quad. i bounced so much i nearly lost me biscuits.

Ed dropped me off when we arrived at his cabin. He said that he would check to see if his brother was in and if he wasn't he would drive me a little further. i walked on down the road and snacked a little and not 5 minutes went by and i saw his beaming smile once again. he drove me all the way down to Whitburne. he let me off at the local store and i picked up some more provisions. then it was back to the trail.

It was looking a lot like rain as i headed up the track, and i was worried that i may not find a suitable spot to set up my tarp, when low and behold a bridge appeared before me. it started to mist just as i arrived at it. climbing up the hill underneath i was pleased to find a lovely wee little hovel just the right size for me tarp and belongings. i slept

it poured that night, and there was lightning and thunder, and i was dry. success. the next morning i stayed in my sleeping bag until 10 the next morning cozy and warm. then the rain stopped and i had to get moving. walka walka walka.

i got to Placentia Junciton a little past noon. thats where i made my mistake. the path diverged i guess thats why they call it a junction. anyway i asked two young girls which path took me to tickle harbour and they pointed me down the wrong path. i had a suspicion that it was wrong however it didn't phase me. i walked on.

As it was getting on towards dark and looking alot like rain i started scooping for a sleepin spot. i came across this old burnt out cube van. it was pretty holey but it would do in a pinch. i found some scrap wood lying about and used that to patch up some of the larger holes but it still leaked. i woke up in the middle of the night to find myself sleeping in a pond. my gear remained dry however and that was a definate plus.

i left the insecurity of the van at around 8 the next morning. right when the rain stopped. (i detect a theme begining here). i came across Villa Marie a few minutes later. I had no idea that this was actually a train stop as i thought i was headed to Tickle harbour. anyhow more walking and more dodging of puddles brought me out to a road where i thought this harbour place should be. there was no sign of nothing there just a pick up and some speeding cars. I sat around trying to figure out what was going on when the owner of the truck came back. he told me that dunville was just 2 mile up the road. i looked at my map and realized my error. with not much else to do i walked into town, where i found a B+B which is where i am now. Barb and Frank are really great people if your ever out this way i recomend a stop its called "Behind The Maples." they've even fed me a dinner of Mashed tater and Moose sausage. quite tastey.

Any how Barb and frank have promised to give me a lift back to the junction tomorrow. I'm a little miffed that i have to get in a car but i suppose its better than all that back tracking.

two paths diverged in a mellow bog
and i, yes i took the road in the wrong direction







posted : 2005.Aug.25 @ 10.51am
another couple of days gone by... some more rain to soak away stains. Barb and Frank dropped me off in due time out at the junction. bless their kind souls. it was a little drippy and grey out. not too inviting but i took the plunge and walked nearly 45kms.

along the way i had a gun pointed at me by a 14 year old boy. i'm not sure if it was real or not. it could have been a BB gun, he was to far off to tell. I just yelled "watch where your pointing that thing" and he ceased to take aim. fairly peculiar circumstance if you ask me.

The trail wound up and over some beautiful barren hills with bits of rock poking out all over the place. reminded me of pictures my friend had of ireland. complete with fog and everything. it was up there in a small cluster of trees where i ran into a inhabited cabin. well it was actually a renovated blue bird bus. i knocked on the door and an elderly gent popped his head out. as it was raining outside he invited me in. he poured me a cup o' tea and we set to chat. the conversation was fairly idle. he told me where there was good troutin and that i would definately see a moose before tickle harbour. i ended the conversation at the bottom of the cup and trekked back out into the foggy soggy.

the 6 miles to tickle harbour disappeared and i was ready for a 60 more so i continued on my way without seeing a moose. the trail got very lonely from that point on. i didn't see anyone for the rest of the day. and i went to bed as the sun was painting the fog a lovely colour. didn't even bother building a roof.

Now i must rant. if there is one thing in this world that i can hate. please let it be slugs. those sickly, slimy, pusalting, penis shaped goo makers can go straight to hell as far as i'm concerned. during that sleep under the foggy stars i fought an epic battle against their minions. as they made straight for my sleeping bag. the key to fighting off slugs (and i learned this from experience) is to not kill them. for if you kill them the others cannabalise the corpse and use it to fuel the next onslaught. so instead i flicked and kicked each one of their boneless bodies far across the bogs and fens. damn beasties. at least this experience left me without the feeling of one crawling across my face. thats just horrendous.

anyhow today has been quite quiet by comparison. i saw one man on the track and he was working on fixing a bridge. the trail wound down past some lovely ponds. and a pair of loons flew over my head at noon. currently, i am sitting at a CAP site (Community Access Program) in Arnold Cove. its begun to pour some more so i don't think i'll be making much more distance today. probably just get back to my pack and that'll be it.







posted : 2005.Aug.31 @ 12.58pm
**this one is quite epic. take your time**

well its been quite a while. lets see roughly 200 kms or so. When last i left off i was sitting out the rain at a C.A.P site in Arnold's cove. not much different today. its raining once again. and once again i am thanking my govt. for giving me free unlimited internet access. The internet should be a right i feel, or at least free. but lets get on with the story.

Upon leaving the library i met up with my burden back at the Trans Can exit. it was only slightly more damp. I didn't get very far from there just back to the trail where i slept in a tunnel passing under my beloved Highway. it was a good sleep, on ashphalt, a new surface to add to the lists on which i've slept. the next morning i met an elderly gent picking up rocks at the side of the highway. I wasn't quite sure why he was doing it. the rocks didn't appear to be anything special. just your ordinary everyday highway base. but he seemed to be quite selective in which ones he collected. So i asked him "what are you picking up rocks for." "Oh i collect them." okay to each his own right. he can pick up rocks and i'll walk i guess. anyhow i doddled off after that intent on getting to Goobies.

It was a long and drippy day and there was very little traffic on the trail. A few kids on ATV's and thats it. I met some grouse at around noonish and they seemed to be quite content with me to pass within a few feet of them. If i were more of a hunter than a gatherer i could have made a meal of them, but i stuck with the blueberries that were much easier to snare than a flighty fowl. it cleared up for an hour or so in the afternoon and my jeans dry up a touch. but it didn't last long. i was soon soaked anew by the drippy drops. I got to Goobies at around 4:20 or so. Not much there. a bunch of houses, broken machinery (mostly hoes) and a heavy equipment repair shop. I stopped at the shop to inquire about a B+B or something like the same. The man i approched was busy using a small hoe to take the track off of a swamp machine. I was sure that he was using the wrong tool, however i have never proffessed to know much about heavy machinery. When the man paused to scratch his head i seized my opportunity. He told me that there was no B+B here in Goobies but about a mile or so down the track there is the Trailway Inn. I bid him adieu and i was on my way.

It was a little more than a mile, and the rain never let up. When i got there i went straight for the pub and ordered a burger and a coffee. The Barstress was all to happy to oblige. then i inquired about a room. They had a $45 special. It was a room with 2 single beds and a stand up shower. Not being one for baths i didn't mind and was thrilled at the cheap rate. So i shit, showered, shaved and promptly fell asleep. I awoke at around 7:00 and decided to watch a little news. bad choice. They were talking about the comment that chap on the 700 club made about The Hugo guy down in Venezuala. The story only served to make me more frustrated with the Christians of the world. But i couldn't let that bother me. people will be ignorant and foolish even when they proffess to be a man of god. I switched the television off in disgust, and decided to see if i could soak up some local colour down at the bar, it being friday and all.

It was a pretty bleak scene, there was a bartender and one customer. but thats enough for a conversation so i ordered a Black Horse, "Made with Pure Newfoundland Water." It didn't take long before a few more folkes trickled in out of the deluge outside. soon there 5 or six folkes to talk to. they cozied right up to me, and before long i was regaling them with stories of the great land beyond Newfoundland. My original intent was to stick around for 3 beers then head back up stairs. as i wanted to get out at a decent time the next morning. but as fate would have it the locals wouldn't let me go. they started buying me beers and asking me which local brews i had tried. After sampling a good number of stouts and ales, the old man sitting next to me asked me if i smoked up. I wasn't quite sure what he was asking me at the time so i asked him to repeat it. He must've been 60 or so, so it caught me a little off gaurd. When i finally understood what he was asking me i replied "yeah of course." with that he disappeared into the washroom for a good 10 minutes. When he returned he said "its done, i got 'er rolled." we then strolled out on to the deck where the rain was still making the highway traffic sound like tape being peeled off of paint. He proceeded to spark a fairly sizable doobie. he barely got a puff in before he passed it to me. Mmm, Quite tastey i thought. he passed it over to me when it was still quite large and said "i'm done, keep it." so i stubbed it out and saved it for later. upon getting back into the bar i noticed that there was a fresh pint sitting in front of my seat. as well there was a little shot glass filled with a mysterious brown liquid. The gentleman who was sitting on the opposite side as the old man had his own little glass of brown liquid. he said "We're making you a newf tonite, drink up bye." Upon finishing my small glass of brown liquid, i was presented with a little certificate which read "The Royal Order Of Screechers. This is to certify that Aaron Veldstra of hamitlon ON Has consumed some of newfoundlands golden elixir. The bearer of this certificate is hearby enrolled in the Royal Order of screechers. signed some incomprehensible signatures of the President and presiding Officer." Well needless to say, i didn't get on the trail early the next morn. rather late as a matter of fact. I woke at noon with a spliting headache and the vow never to consume alcohol again. the waitress who served me breakfast was laughing the entire time, as she had witnessed the whole ordeal.

I was amazed later that day when i walked a startleing 30 kms in the blistering heat to clarenville. it was painful though. i could barely raise my head enough to enjoy the scenery i was passing. But after a quick dip in a refreshing brook i felt much better and i could manage the walk to some degree. Upon arriving at clarenville i bid haste to the closest eatery, which happened to be a gas bar on the side of the highway. I supped on lays potato chips, gatorade, and two cans of chef boyardee. not your most exquisite meal but refined non the less. the gas attendant looked at me kinda funny as i sat on his porch but i could care less. it was just getting on to dark then so i called it a day and looked for a convenient place to lay my tarp. the gas bar seemed to be doubleing as a School Bus graveyard so i slipped into one of those and fell asleep imediately.

I woke at the crack of dawn, and bid a hastey exit before the gasbar opened. It was a bit of a hike back to the trail but there was a Tim Hortons on the way so i broke my fast with a coffee and some doughnuts. My goal for the day was Thorburn lake so i struck out as soon and the last drop drained from the paper cup. It was a lovely peice of trail. much smoother than anything i had encountered to date. almost groomed. and they had taken the time to grade away that large train rock that had become such an ankle twister after St. John's. I was passed by many an ATV as it was the weekend and everyone and there dog was out on the trail. Its a funny site to see a large man riding an ATV with a little Pomerainian in his lap. I made it to Throburn lake at about 3:00 or so and i was feeling great, the sun was shining and wow what a day. So i continued on right past the lake on to Port Blandford. I stopped briefly at Rudy's gasbar there, and aquired some more canned goodness, and still i wasn't feeling it. so i continued on some more. On to a bridge that allowed the Trans Can to cross the path un-interrrupted. I called it quits at the bridge and sat down to some Peanut butter, soda crackers and the chef, oh and a little chocolate. A squirrel started pestering me so i threw him some crackers and he disappeared. I had just gotten into the chocolate when he came back with a small army of friends. Being a fair sort of person, i dispensed a little more to my furry fellows. then a squadron of grey jays flew in. i ended up handing out a tube and a half of crackers for the beggars. they hung around for 20 minutes more but i had reserved the last tube for me so i didn't dispense.

it was an alright sleep. the grassy patch i chose turned out to be a feathery bed. it started misting sometime in the early morning and i groaned in my half wakfulness at the thought of another wet day. I woke the next morn to discover that i had been slimed once again. Not by the large slugs but those tiny little ones that are light grey. my first 10 seconds of being awake was spent flinging their gooeyness as far as i could flick. then a search of my body revealed that i had killed one in my hair. i couldn't bear the thought and let out a long string of obscenities of which i will not repeat. Oh how i despise those greasy varmints. My kingdom for some slug dope to banish their evilness from my imediate presence.

it was a grey morning and my mood was matching. but i trudged on like some sorry soldier headed to the trenches. my mood brightened when i arrived at Terra nova and found that they had a store which sold hamburgers. I indulged. it was a bit pricey. but due to the remote location of the town it couldn't be avoided. Terra Nova the town is situated at the end of a very long gravel road, miles from the Trans Canada. Its mostly a cabin town for recreational enthusiasts. While i was munching my fries and trying to forget about slugs and bad weather, a group of ATVer's pulled up. They recognized me from the trail between clarenville and thorburn lake. Apparently they had passed me then. I was tickled a lighter shade of grey by the thought that i had beat a gas powered machine. it was a nice enough thought to motivate me to get up and utilize the rest of the day. so i hoisted my pack once again and started off into the misty gloom. It's a pretty sandy area by comparison to the terrain i had traversed earlier in the trip. Terra Nova lake has its own unique character compared to the ponds i was used to. The entire lake can't be that deep as there are rocks dotting the surface. I crossed a trestle and made off into some more bushy areas

My plan was to walk until i found some form of shelter that i could co-opt and get out of the rain. there are many cabins everywhere out in the bush there, but they didn't tempt me as the thought of waking to an angry newfie shaking isn't that appealing. in addition the cabins have a very unfriendly looking sort of security systems. One had a welcome mat of nails, and another had its walls covered in fish hooks. A passing ATVer told me that it was more for bears than people which i find kinda interesting. Anyhow the same man also told me of a snowmobile warm up hut just up the road. It being the summer and not the time for snowmobiling he said i shouldn't be bothered if i use it for one night. So i made for it. Just before i got there i was passed by another ATVer who invited me to stay at his home in Gloverdale. He was headed out to do some fishing and said he would pick me up on his way home. I told him i would wait for him at the hut i was told about. well i waited, and waited, and waited. my damp clothes started to make me shiver. so i lit a fire in the wood stove of the hut. in no time at all i was taking of layers. i always seem to forget that wood stoves have a knack for heating. especially when they are heating small confined spaces. the warmth made me extremely drowsy. so i took a nap. then it got real hot. i started sweating while i was sleeping. and i started to dream some really crazy scenarios. Me and Louis XIV were hanging out at the casbah talking to frankie who went to hollywood. It seemed as though Frankie had an ill repute and had gotten in trouble with Duke Ellington. We were trying to think of a way to off the Duke when the door to the hut flung open and there was a sillouette of a drippy fisherman in wellies. It was hard for me to discern what was going on. i was sleeping and dreaming, and then i was awake with a man at my door who i didn't know. As my brain slowly reformed reality i realized what had happened. but not without giving a loud shout and being all disoriented. It seemed that the man who went fishing had finally came to get me. When i realized this i calmed right down and started laughing. the Man who was at first a little startled came in and sat down. I told him that i had become quite comfortable in the hut and wasn't in to big of a hurry to leave, as my pack sack's contents were strewn about the hut. he understood and instead we talked about his luck fishing. It seemed he had caught his limit of 3 river trout and even a few salmon. He had to release the salmon however as he had already caught his limit ealier in the week. after about 10 minutes he headed back out to his ATV to go back home, and i cracked the windows to let a little heat out. The rest of the night was pretty cozy and i slept like a log.

The next morning was more of the same greyness that i have come to accept as the norm. so i packed up my gear and headed out the door. Not ten minutes down the track and it started to pour the hardest it has yet. The rain didn't let up for the entire 15 km walk to Gambo. The entire walk i could feel my spirits draining out my shoes. I was down, real depressed. didn't want to walk another metre. but when your in the middle of nowhere its hard just to sit down and walllow in your self-pity, especially when your soaked. I hobbled on to gambo thinking of excuses to tell the people whom i have been sharing this story with. I couldn't think of one. All i could think about was getting to this J.R. Smallwood Interprative Centre which was advertised on signage every km or so all the way to Gambo. The most alluring feature of the sign was the Free Coffee notice

Upon arrival in Gambo i entred the Trailway lounge which happens to be the first public roof one comes to as you approch the town. I Asked for a coffee but all they serve is beer and liquor. wanting to stay out of the rain i bought a beer. Which i didn't want. I talked to the lady running the joint and she seemed all to easy to talk to. I told her what i was doing, and that i was thinking about quitting, and she did what any good bartender does, she agreed with me. But i must say that when i resolve to do something i find it hard to just give up. no one likes a quitter. especially when you haven't even made it half way. I didn't like her advice so i left to go make a Phone call.

I called my good friend dave. He told me what i needed to hear, it really was nothing but a pat on the back, but it bolstered my ego enough for me to resolve to go on. I told him that i would go to a B+B and sleep on it. when i hung up i made for Bev's B+B. it was closed. Then i discovered J.R. Smallwood's Interprative centre. Free Coffee was on my mind. the High school girl who ran the cafe part of the interprative centre looked really bored when i entered. I sat down ordered a bowl of soup and inquired about the coffee. not free after all. Thats it i'm Calling this Smallwood guy on false advertizing is what i thought. So i asked the girl who this smallwood guy thinks he is... She said "he's Newfoundland First Premier." then i looked around and saw the guys face staring at me from pictures all around the room. "Sorry" i said. the girl looked at me kinda confused. and i said "Nevermind, i'll have a coffee." I sat there for a good couple of hours. We watched Much Music together on the television that normally plays videos about Smallwood, and talked about music. She had good taste for an 17 year-old girl. We made fun of the Olsen twins, and Avril Lavinge. All in all the experience boosted my spirits back to their normal levels. So much that i vowed to walk the rest of the 45+ Kms to Gander that day.

Upon leaving the Smallwood Hall of fame i made for the local gas station to pick up supplies. A couple cans of chef, 2 cans of Redbull, and a pack of smokes. then i struck out for the trail. the rain picked up a bit but i didn't care. I was soaring from the 4 cups of coffee the Joanne had poured for me. I walked for 14 kms straight no breaks. singing all the way. then i stopped for a can of the Chef. That was at Butt's pond which looks remarkably unlike a butt or owned by a butt, and more like a lake. There were a few cabins out there but i didn't stop long enough to see if anyone was home i kept on.

Half way to Benton i pounded a can of Redbull. Walked straight through Benton and on into the dusk. The trail wound up a long hill just past benton and the sky started to clear some what. I Briefly saw the shimmer of a couple of stars or planets. Another can of redbull. At the top of the hill the trail straightened right out. I could see the lights of Gander International Airport of in the distance. I walked, and walked, and walked even more. The lights never seemed to get closer. Its like driving to Winipeg at night you see the lights of the city from 4 hours away and they never move, almost disheartening but not quite. It was then that my feetzez started to hurt quite horribly, now that was disheartening. But i pushed on. determined to make my goal. ever so slowly the lights seperated into individual blinkers. some red, some yellow, and a whole lotta white. eventually i was walking past it. Man airports are big eh? real long a couple of kms at least. and they always seem to be a km or two out of town. I was about to collapse when a slight bend straightened and i could see the high pressure sodium light of a lampost. Glorious victory! i made it a total of 62 Kms in one day or something close to it. I collapsed on the porch of a building at the edge of town. I figured no one would mind as it had a for rent sign in the window. and to tell you the truth i really didn't care. there was no way i was going to make it anywhere else, not that night in anycase.

I was awoken at around 3 by a security guard but when i told them my story and where i had walked from they were extremely sympathetic, and i assured them that i wouldn't break any windows or steal anything. I slept ueasily on the hard wood and i had searing pain knawing at my knees but i was happy. i was doing what i love to do, and that is adventure without gas.

I woke this morning at about 5 or so. I peaked in the window to see what the security guard was protecting, and as humour would have it, the place was filled with cheezey christmas ornaments. ranging from reindeer and santa clause, to a complete nativity including ducks.

Today has been a holiday. I haven't gone anywhere. well except for the library. I figured that yesterday was hardcore enough to deserve a day off. so i've walked around and talked to people. took a really long time to write this (its taken me 4 seprate seatings at several different computers) and mostly, tried to keep my boots off as much as possible. I even went to the drastic measure of securing a hotel room at a cost of $73. What have i become? the old me wouldn't even dream to stay in hotels. It must've been that tree planting contract, its softened me up or something.







posted : 2005.Sep.03 @ 10.12am
Alright. I sucked it up and am spending money on the internet. I figured i had better write one before my 150 km sojourn into nothing. this will be the longest unaided part of the journey. i hope i make it...

anyhow last i left off i had spent too much money on a hotel room in Gander. It was comfy, so comfy. i just stayed in my room all night enjoying the playboy life of clean sheets and a body that didn't smell like a moldy gym bag. I ended up watching alot of Television that night. my attention grabbed by the devastating wreck of a hurricane down south. It made me feel bad for getting down about the weather i was having. those guys definately got it worse. its an awesome power that nature has over us. makes one feel very small indeed.

The next day i left for the trail once again. after getting some supplies at the local grocery mart. As i was on myway down the airport Rd. i ran into a curbside vendor selling vegetables. I stopped for a bunch of carrots, and ran into Betty who works for the NFLD Trailway. She offered to take me to HQ so i took her up on the offer. Tony and Terry who also work for the association sent me a map and info about the trailway last winter. I was eager to meet them and put a face to a name so it was perfect i ran into Betty when i did. When we got to HQ, Betty prepared me a cup of tea and i sat down to chat with Tony (Terry was at a stones concert in Moncton). He gave me a rough outline of what to expect on the trail, and we chatted about various other things. It was a good visit, I had a piece of apricot cake that Terry's mom had made. which was most excellent.

Tony later drove me out to the trail and saw me on my way. On our way out i noticed the gas prices $1.17/litre. it was a kind of greyish day but not to gloomy. I walked some very straight bits. through some more of those beautiful bogs. About 15kms down the trail a ATVer stopped. He was a young kid on his way home from a night of fun in gander. He asked me if i wanted a lift, and being the opportunist that i am, i hopped on. I don't think the kid ever had it below 70 kms/h. it was maxxed at 90 most of the time. a white knuckle ride if ever there was one. I was only hopping that my pack-sack would serve as some kind of cushion should i be flung off. but i have ridden on motorcycles and know the importance of leaning into a turn. I didn't die, but my kidneys took a couple of shots, and my hat has never been more muddy. anyhow he dropped me off at the old train station in Greenwood. There were a couple of other kids there hanging out. so i sat and chatted them up. nice enough.

After leaving their keep i stopped at the store and got some water and candy. i didn't walk much farther that day. It was hot, finally, and i felt like sitting under a tree. I found a really nice waterfall and sat down next to it for a good long while. i fell asleep infact. when i woke up it was late evening. so i packed my gear up and tried to find the trail back. When last i left it, it seemed to dead end at the Trans can. I ended up going the wrong way and when i realized it, darkness was getting on. So i went back to the trans can and slept in the tunnel. It was a stroke of genius because at midnight a large storm broke overhead. I was laughing in the tunnel, nice and dry except for a few drips.

the next morning was grey but there were clear patches of to the west so i wasn't to worried. I found the trail pretty easily the next morn to. I felt like a moron for missing it the night before. it cleared up completely at about 10. thats also when i made it to Notre Dame Junction, where i inquired about some water. An older lady filled my bottle for me, and gave me 3 bananas to boot. I had a little lunch break just past there, the bananas though bruised, were still quite nice. Then i hauled ass to Norris Arm where i stopped for some beers and dinner. For dessert i had the coconut cream pie, it was a dollar fifty, and the slice was a 1/4 of a pie!! feeling stuffed and happy i felt like i could tackle another 20 k so hoisted the pack again and slopped off. I hiked under a star ladden sky until about 10 or so. Feeling good about the weather i slept like an open-faced sandwich, you know all my jelly bits exposed an everything, and i didn't melt due to rain niether.

There was maybe 5 kms from where i slept to Bishop's falls. When i got to the river there was a multitude of greyhairs out on the bridge doing laps for exercise. each one had to stop me and asked me what i was doing. after repeating myself at least a hundred times, they let me go on to the Irving gas staition, where i had breakfast, and watched some stormy looking clouds pass. I also noticed the price of gas $1.50/litre. holy shit... 30 cents in 2 days!!!

I have to mention it now. This is why i walk. for those who may not know. its for the cure for cars. The way i see it you could compare Modern culture to a junkie. it starts off subtlely. you ride around in them. until you buy a car and start consuming gas. soon your live becomes dependant on said car. Soon your whole life revolves around this car. Soon all your money is slowly being sapped by this thing with checks and valves. then everyone else gets into it, and the demand for gas sky-rockets. Now everyone needs. who's gots? anyone carrying? i really needs! Well folkes, the price is only going to go up you know. but unlike harsh street drugs which can be manufactured out of plants and plumbing supplies, oil is finite. there is only so much. If the price of gas goes up much more it'll become very hard to be working class. or get around if you are just a regular joe at a regular job. and those idiots in those SUV's will finally see their stupidity. it'll be like people who are turned to the street because of an addiction. who wants to be broken by a substance? no one. and the last thing we want to see is modern culture crumbling like dope fiends. there, its said. probably just another rant. but we need a cure for this cancer. any ideas? nothing is quite as easy as turning a key and going, i know. I am addicted just the same. I can't let opportunity pass me by. But there has to be some way we can still go about our ways without shoveling money into furnaces. Think about it. if everyone in Canada were to give up their cars and invest that money into a public project of transportation, we would have the best bus system in the universe. but why only canada, why not the world. lets stop foolishly and greedily guzzeling from the funnel of dead dinosaur bones. and i'll stop ranting

anyhow back to the story. After i left the gas station the sun came back, and it was a rather easy walk to here Grand Falls Windsor. there were a few stops to graze on bluberries, and a bald eagle flew overhead, but little to note. i was preoccupied by the gas thoughts. I'm sitting at halfway now. 442 kms done only 445 kms to go. but i should get going as this is costing a small fortune and i don't want to break the bank here.







posted : 2005.Sep.08 @ 8.18am
hello hello, from this beautiful day in deer lake. I survived the trek through the long stretch. as it turns out it wasn't 150kms after all. but thats for later on. i'll pick up where i left off.

After paying another few dollars for exceeding my time limit at the cafe. I mosseyed out to the street to head back up to the trail and main street. The guy who said it was a far walk lied. it only took maybe 30 minutes and i stopped for a freezee along the way. Upon making it back to trail, i stashed my sack and went back down main street. The first place of foodery i passed was this place called Wayne's World, so i popped in. the bartender was pretty laid back. it was just getting on 5:00 and nothing much was happening. I ordered a burger and a beer and paid slight attention to the action programe on the large screen to my left. The burger was excellent. I believe it was called a Monter Mozza burger. it was monsterous and the cheeze was real i could taste it. The bartenter chatted me up quite a bit. once i told her that i was walking the T'rail bed she got really excited. "My little boy would get a kick out of you. he loovves that survivor man show." she exclaimed "he loves them books to, teaching ya how to live off the land and such." it was about then when the clerks from the Music shop next door came in. I had popped in to their shop for directions to the internet earlier in the day. They sat down at the bar and chatted me up as well. The young guy, i believe he was the son of the other, turned out to be a tree planter. He had just done a contract up in Nakina. It was funny because i thought i recognized him from days off. I remember running into a newf somewhere's in Geraldton. Any how the connection was to loose to draw any sycronicit conclusions. it was fun just shooting the tree planter lingo though. His dad ended up buying me a beer to. quite nice of him i must say.

So when i left waynes world i went out baiting for some salad. I ended up talking to these two cats haning out in a parking lot near the old train station. i got in one of their cars they were kind enough, they talked me up about their adventures off the rock. It seems that Newfoundlanders are great travellers. everyone seems to have gone off to another part of Canada to visit relatives or something. Some come back prefering the island to mainland lifestyle. Some stay. but the ones who leave get lots of visitors. Anyhow we took a drive up the street. to this nice little home just around the corner. The lady at home was watching a DVD of some new James Bond flick. She had a really nice terrier. he was young and full of beans. kept on trying to get me to play tug of war with him. he succeeded several times in coaxing, but we soon left. Kieth ended up taking me out to the grocery store, which is where i wanted to end up anyway. I had my salad now i needed the main course. I picked up a couple boxes of granola bars, some carrots, a bunch of munchies some chocolate and some cans of cheffy. (I really can't wait to get back to a stove). It was a bit of a walk out to my pack after, but i got there just as a great sunset was happening. I waited till dark then went out to the highway where i had spotted the perfect bridge earlier.

It was a great sleep under the highway. its a bit strange having traffic drive over you all night, but out here in Newfoundland the highway shuts down at about 10 until 6am. its great for sleeping under. one car a half hour, and counting... zzzzzzzzz. the next morning i hiked out to a tims to grab a coffee. I hit the trail at at about 9:30 am. It was a lovely day, cloudy with sunny breaks and a nice wind. perfect walking weather. it was pretty quiet for ATVs, but the highway was never more than a kilometre off. its dull growl a constant reminder of the urgency of modern life. just as i was drawing near to Badger one of the bye's whom i was talking to the prior evening, showed up on a quad. he stopped and stopped me as a consequence. "Well bye, its been a day." he said. "i'll say." i replied. we had a little pow wow session at the side of the trail, and then he cajoled me into taking a ride out to Badger. It was only 3 kms. and he was adamant about the ride. So i took it.

He dropped me off at a restaurant, where i tried their burger. that one was kinda small. not much to note about it. i hate giving bad revues. i wasn't there long. just enough to eat my food and use the phone. then i made out for the trail. I didn't get very far that evening. maybe another 10 kms. but it was the begining of the big empty. from Badger to Howley the trail leaves its route alongside the Trans Canada for about 90kms. along the way there are no store so one has to bring their own snackables. its not really that big of a stretch when you think about it. but it is daunting. especially when a person likes to travel light. so i planned to do it in 2-1/2 days.

the next morning i woke up covered in the thickest dew i've seen yet. it wetted my sleeping bag through. but i shouldn't complain because the stars that night were incredible. I saw at least a doze shooters, and a helluva lot of sattelites. but back to the morning.
it was sunny once again. My mission was to walk some 40 kms to the quarry, an old rail stop in its formal glory. It was a great morning for walking. i was passed by a group on ATVs, they were headed to Deer lake. They said they'd see me in the evening on their way back. It was windy all day. i think it has something to do with the openess of the land. The thick stands of black spruce, were slowly replaced by shorter and shorter trees. In Millertown Junction, which is now mostly cabins and vacation spots, i stopped to watch some chaps lifting an old cratex with a crane. but it wasn't to interesting so i continued on. The group of ATVers passed me at about 5. they gave me some chips, a can of soda, and told me of an abandoned CN car up the track. They said it was only 7 or 8 miles. but being a metric man meself, i had no concept of how far it was. It didn't take long, especially after the caffiene and carb boost from the soda and the ravioli. The Rail car was in a bit of a state. Not to bad from an abandoned perspective. the floor was somewhat clean. I found no trace of mouse turds, and there were two bunks. I chose the larger of the two bunks and spread out my tarp over it. pretty comfortable, with no traces of urine, but a used mattress non the less. I was awakened in the night by the back door slaming from the wind. but other than that it was an easy sleep. there really is nothing like a mattress for sleeping on.

The next morning i left as soon as the first rays came in the back window. It was clear once again and i was feeling particulairly refreshed. About half a kilometre down the track i found a sign that said spring water. I followed a little path less than twenty metres and came upon a PVC pipe protruding from the ground. There was a litre of water dispensing from the pipe at the rate of 1/Lt per 30 seconds. it was mighty tastey. rejuvenating in an undescribable way. kinda made one feel all tingly. i filled all my bottles and beat it back to the track.

I was passed and saw only 2 people that day. They were driving a truck with an ATV in the back. they were on their way back home after a long weekend at the cabin. They stopped to give me treats aswell. 2 bags of chips, a bag of grapes, and another can of soda. I was fast accumulating a large collection of trash. but it was much appreciated, as i had underestimated my rationing system. it was a nice day I made the summit of the entire rail line before noon. I stopped up there at a quarry and made a little sculpture out of granite. when i had finished i realized that it really didn't stand out that much on the landscape. which is mostly open with a few shrubs in the dips, sedge everywhere else, and lots of giant glacial erratics. then there are the topsail mountains. which are kinda hard to describe. apparently they are old volcano plumes. formed when glaciers ripped over the surface of the island. The outer shell of the volcano was ripped away while the harder volcaninic rock is the centre is left exposed.

the next old whistle stop from the summit is Gaff topsail. another area that has turned into a cabin village. i stopped to lunch on some PB sandwiches there. onward and downward the trail went. soon the black spruce grew taller an taller. just past pond crossing is when you can call it a forest. Its also there where you entre the Kitty Brook valley. it reminded me of J.R.R Tolkien's description of entering Rivendale. Only the birds were singing though, not elves.

I walked on into the night and was determined to make it to Howley that night, but thats when the weather changed. Just as the sun was about to do something pretty. So i hastily set up my tarp on the side of the road. I slept rather poorly on the gravel, although it did loosen some of the knots in my back.

I woke in the morning to find all my gear bone dry, and the sun shining in the sky. It was a brisk walk down to howely. 15 kilometres according to some Logging kms posted at the side of the road. i got to howley before noon. I stopped at the local gas bar and had an ice cream. then i had another. The owner came over to talk to me, and we chatted about the trail and what he did for a living. He told me that he also owns the Motel. They have a lounge there and thats where a hot meal could be found. I had a hamburger. It was loose meat, my first experience with such a wich. i've had sloppy joe's before, but that usually entails a gloopy sauce. an odd burger, this loosey goosey. definately something to make note of.

I met some guys on quads from Cape Breton, later at the gas station. They were up to the same mission as i. crossing the rock. Ian told me that i could crash at his place if i needed. Once across myself of course. he seems a good natured. the hippieness definately courses through his veins.

after mailing a few postcards i followed the bikes back to the trail. I wanted to make Deer lake before dark, and it was still 24 kms ore something. The trail followed the coast of Grand lake. which has some of the nicest beaches i've seen on my trip. Reddish sand and a bunch of comercial logging driftwood. i stopped for a break on the beach late afternoon. nice and windy, nice and sunny. a couple kids on their way home from school passed me by. I got to the Main Dam somewhere around 6. a pretty impressive bit of concrete. there were even some supreme poachable campsites. but i pressed on for deer lake. At around seven thirty, as dusk was setting in, i passed a father and son, and his two sons. They were out picking up a couple of loads of fire wood. I asked them how far it was to Deer lake. they said it was a "few miles." so i crashed on. about a km down the road, i stopped for a carb boost. i talked to a man on bicycle who was passing on the road. he told me he just saw a mink. then i heard the drone of ATVs behind me. The bicycle man road on and the Father, son, and sons pulled up. The son asked me if i wanted a lift. I said "sure" (opportunity knocking). I rode behind the son for a while then he switched it up, as my weight was bottoming out his trailer hitch. he put me on with his son. Now i destinctly remember reading a sticker somewhere that no one under the age of 16 may operate an ATV. as we rode off i asked his age. "Oh i'm ten." he replied. wow i thought. this is the youngest person ever, to drive me around. but he was a great operator. sure his feet barely reached the shifter, and when he stood on the pegs he was still shorter than me. But the boy had been taught well. he avoided hazards, kept the speed down, and was always alert.

They dropped me off on the last bit of the main drag in town. It was full on dark by then. I checked out the rates at the hotel. but there is no way i am spending that much on a shower and a bed. not for another week at least. i opted for the bridge out by the trans canada. On my way out to the highway i stopped off to get a coffee. I'm not sure why. But i sat and drank it outside on the curb. it didn't take long before my smoking caught the attention of other smokers and all of a sudden there was a crew on the curb. they thought i was a hitch hiker at first. but then i mentioned to them i was walking the trail bed. They told me I was nutz. but they accepted me into their group pretty quickly. They proceeded to take me on adventures out around Deer lake. giving me a quick synopsis of the town. I asked them about good crash spots and they pointed out a few. then we went into the local windowless tavern. It being Karaoke night and all. I didn't drink to much there, but i did manage to summon up some courage to sing Fame by david bowie. I hung out there for most of the night. Talking to various people and catching the vibe of the town. A couple of guys tried to talk me down but, in the end they said that they had to respect anybody who'd walk the track by themself. But that always is the case. The one guy ended our conversation about how he hates outsiders. he told me to not take offence. and i can't say that i blame him. Its risky business letting in people into your world. you don't know if they be your best bud or turn you into a slave.

After i left the bar i went down to the park to crash in the band shell. I had passed it earlier and thought it would be a wicked poach camp. once i set up my bed i sat down and took it all in. the architecture of the band stand wasn't outstanding but it was interesting. a large yawing arch opened to the main bit of grassy grounds and to stage right and left there were two lesser arches with stairs. i slept in the props area. it was as comfortable as concrete can afford.

I woke up this morning at around 8. Had a coffee and wandered over to the library. Where i pecked out the first portion of this on their brand new C.A.P. computers. but i overused my half hour and they had to send me to the other C.A.P. computers. Which happen to be on the otherside of town. So now i am there which i suppose could be an ending.

"When the going gets wierd, the wierd turn pro." H.S.T.







posted : 2005.Sep.08 @ 8.08pm
I truly enjoy reading about your adventures, and the characters you are meeting. Keep it coming! Shocked







posted : 2005.Sep.12 @ 10.30am
*thanks sandbag, i truly enjoy living them Wink *

Alright, so i left off at the basement C.A.P. site in Deer lake. I am now in a C.A.P. site in the small community of St. George's. a 100 or so kms later.

Lets pick up where i left off. So it was late in the afternoon when i finally left Deer Lake. The trail took me down towards the lake along a little abuttment. It soon turned into a hairy mess of sticks right at eye level. it continued on like this for several Kilometres. then it suddenly spilled out on to a wide gravel road. with a few scattered houses on it. I waved to a couple of folkes who stopped to stare, and continued on until i met a fork in the road and couldn't decided which was the right way to go. I sat down. Looking back down the road i saw a young girl racing to catch up to me followed by a three legged dog. so i waited. she was all out of breath when she arrived, and barely got out a "wow, you walk fast." it turned out that she was sent by her mother to see if i needed anything, like a drink or a sandwich. I had just eaten and my water bottles were full so i declined the offer. She did however entertain me with stories about some hitchhikers who had passed through recently. I asked her which was the road to Pasadena, and she said both of them when there but the one to the right was the easier of the two. I took her advice, having not learned from my Placentia Junction fiasco. But she was right. the road turned back into a trail, and spit me out at a tunnel under the trans can.

I decided to leave the track and try to find a Gas Bar at which i could buy some coffee and some smokes. It took for ever to get around the town. the road i chose seemed to circumnavigate the city. but eventually i made it to the bright lights of the Irving Gas Bar. I stopped and grabbed a coffee some smokes, and a curb. It didn't take long until a man from Newbrunswick chatted me up. He was a clean cut chap, probably into some kind of suit business. He asked me many questions, and i answered them as best as i could. While we chatted a couple people passed by our conversation and on their way out of the gas bar, they joined in. A mother heard enough of the conversation to say "Have i got something for you!" she went to her car and pulled out a ziploc bag filled with blueberry muffins. they were warm still. "here you go. a little treat for your trip." she said. i munched one with my coffee. oh they were good. melt in your mouth. anyhow the crowd disapated and i was left talking to a man with an eye patch. He kept on telling me about Newf hospitality. "yes bye, we newfs, we'll feed ya, shelter ya, and try to get ya to marry our daughters."

I left the gas bar to try and find the trail or at the very least somewhere to sleep for the night. I found a bridge at the Trans-can and decided that there was no better place. twernt bad, but it wasn't the best thats for sure. I slept until about 8 or so. then i packed and peeled out. the "trail" turned out to be the road on the other side of the bridge. I found that out by asking some construction workers. It was pretty much just gravel until Steady brook where it briefly turned to ashphalt. I Stopped at a Gas Bar again to ask for directions. The lady behind the counter told me that there wasn't a trail until you got past corner brook. So i had to hike about 7 kilometres on the Trans Can. That is probably the best part of the Newfoundland Trans Can, so i didn't mind. In fact it reminded me of walks on the Trans Can out in BC. Narrow Valley with tall green walls and shear faces of rock. quite a remarkable piece of road.

At about 2 kms from Corner Brook a man stopped to offer me a ride. I hate the word no so i hopped in. He ended up taking me well past the area where i wanted to connect up with the trail. He dropped me off at the top of the valley overlooking Corner Brook. It ended up being for the better. From that vantage point i could see the whole of the valley that Corner Brook is situated in. The Focal point of the town is its main industry, which is Pulp & Paper. The factory sits right at the water's edge steaming away. an eyesore for some, a source of income for most. I stopped in a tourist information kiosk up on the edge of the highway. The lady behind the counter couldn't help me with a direct route to the trail. but i had a pretty good idea of where it went. and when a train track is in a valley there is really only one place for it to be-- at the bottom. so i went on into to town to scope it out. It didn't take long to find. as i had guessed, the train track went past the main industry and therefore was easily spotted. It started to rain at that point. So i found a restaurant to hang out in. I found this lovely little bistro and nibbled slowly at a plate of calamari. i think it took me a half hour to consume the plate, which is remarkably slow for me. but i needed to abuse a little time there to stay out of the rain. Later i went out to the mall to loiter.

I found the perfect bridge to sleep under right next to the mall. it was sandy underneath, and some considerate traveller had left a large piece of carpet, and some cardboard boxes for me to utilize. the best sleep ever. I woke to more gloominess, and was wary of getting out on to the trail. So instead i decided to see if i could check out some art at the local gallery. I walked all the way back up the mountain only to find that the Gallery wasn't open on Saturdays. absurd if you ask me. when do they expect people to peruse their fine halls when they are closed on the best day off in the week? anyways i was a little miffed but not to much. So i went back to the trail, as it still hadn't rained yet, and i was loosing precious walking hours.

I barely made it to Curling before i noticed some water ladden clouds headed my way. "Damn" i thought, had i left a little earlier i could've been much farther than this. while i was thinking this however, i heard a man say "hey, Bye." I turned to see a man on a bicycle headed my way. I stopped and he questioned me further "where ya to." "I'm on to Port-aux-Basque." i said. "On the Trail?" he followed. "yep" i replied. "Come on an have a cup of tea then. its about to rain." I didn't argue. He took me up some stairs at the side of the trail. "Its not me house, but e's a buddy o' mine." I then watched him slip in through the window to unlock the front door. When he came out he pointed to a man down on the path. "here he is." he said. Kieth was up the stairs soon and Frank did a round of introductions. They brought me into the house. And frank started in on yabbering my ear off, whilst Kieth quietly made me a sandwich. The kettle whistle blew and kieth set a sandwich of Kam, tomatoe, and lots of mayo, on white bread. I normaly try to steer clear of "meat" from a can, as the gelatine bits freak me out. but my father used to say to me when i was a child, that its rude not to accept something when it is offered out of the goodness of the heart. So i ate it. To my surprise, the excessive use of mayo covered the odd texture and taste of the canned meat. Then we went into the living room to smoke and watch T.V. Frank handed me some papers and told me to read them. I soon realized that i was reading some documents from his welfare case. I handed them back to him. He told me i had to read them. so i made my eyes move and tried my best not to take in to much information. Frank was pissed because they were cutting his cheques, as a result of him moving back to Newfoundland. I then got an earful on what Franks opinion of this was. It seemed that frank had a lot of opinions. so i slowly included kieth in the conversation and got him out of his speechless bliss. We talked more about the trail, and what i could expect. Kieth had been hunting and fishing on it for all his life, so his knowledge of the land was incredibly useful. Eventually the conversation turned to me, and what gear i had along for the trip. Once kieth found out i was missing a few of His core items, he started pulling things out of every nook and cranny. Soon i had a hatchet, two rain ponchos, another t-shirt, some fishing net, and bunch of string. He kept on pileing things infront of me, i accepted a few of the more useful items, and made most of the rest of the stuff disappear behind the couch. The rain let up soon enough and i was eager to get back on the trail. But not without, some moose meat, and a bunch of cherries picked by Frank.

I got back to the trail thinking to myself "if only he had a daughter, i could be married." a shudder went through my body. so i dismissed the thought. I didn't get far down the trail when i heard another "hey bye" I turned to see kieth this time. he had come along to see that i made it to the store alright, as i had inquired as to the whereabouts of a smoke shop. he escorted me all the way there. and said his final farewell there. I bought a pack of smokes at the store, in addition to a six pack of Blue Star then headed off for Mount Moriah.

All to soon i was back in the bush. the sound of roads and progress slowly disolving into the windy wilderness. I kept on thinking of where would be a good spot to stop, as i needed a bunch of sunlight to cook up the moose. I passed several spots that looked promising. One had an old GM van bench at it. another was a nice little glade surrounded by spruce. but they all seemed to be not right. so i continued on. A bunch of ATV's passed me, loaded up with guys and guns. Moose Season opened today. Eventually i came to a bush road intersection. There was a bunch of logs lying around and ample space to sling a tarp. So i decided that this would be it. I smoked a cigarette and assesed the situation. Looking at the logs gave me a wonderful idea. there was a pile of squared off ones, and a pile of roundies. I stacked up some of the roundies to make a fulcrum. then took two squared ones and placed them perpendicular to the roundies with about 2 feet of overhang. then i took some squared one and laid them across parralle to the fulcrum, on the short side of course. after i had piled about 3 or four, the perpendicular logs cantilevered up. Frank Loyd Wright eat your heart out. I then had the perfect structure to slap a tarp on and call it a hunker. Then came the clever bit about cooking the meat. I have these cans in my back pack that i have been carrying in my backpack since St. John's. They are a product called Canned Heat. basically they are those little cans you see under hotel pans, at any buffet restaurant. the box they came in claimed that they could boil water in 6 minutes. So i had one aspect of a stove complete-- the heat. NExt i had to figure out what to cook in. On this trip i made the mistake of not bringing my pot, so i improvised and used my bowl, which is metal. The final step. to keep the meat over the heat without snuffing it. Thats when i had to drink a beer.... Upon finishing the can i did a little surgery and turned into a holey tube. the perfect hotplate was now complete. I cracked another beer. poured half in the bowl and set the other half aside for me, for later. Here's the recipe for Hobo moose stew: 1/2 can of blue star, 1 whole onion, 2 whole carrots, a couple slabs of moose meat, and salt to taste. let cook for 2 hours or until tender, and enjoy. I have to say that was the best meal i have ever cooked for myself in such a situation. give me a stove and a kitchen and i can do much more. Have my bud Brenden around and man its dreamy, creamy, and tastilicious. After dinner some moose hunters stopped by and chatted me up. they said i had alot of courage to be doing what i was doing. they admitted that they wouldn't dream of doing it without a gun. I thought "what your going to shoot off rabid squirrels with your 20 guage or what." but to each his own. Their security is in fire power, mine comes from piece of mind. Why be paranoid?

The next morning was cloudy but there were some pretty patches of blue. I started off pretty early hoping to make the 44 k to Gallants by nightfall. At about Mid-morning i came across a pool of blood in the path. It looked like somebody got their moose the day before. As i got closer, i noticed some bits lying about. they were bits of the moose i was sure, but the inside bits. then i found the legs, a few random patches of fur, and finally the bowels. for the most part it didn't smell like i had imagined it might. i guess that was because it was so fresh. the pile of poo that was a little farther down, now that reaked. After taking a few pictures and getting a really gross feeling, i hastily walked away from the gore.

Just past noon, as i was passing my 100th beaver damn, i was stopped by a man in a Nissan Titan. He asked me if i wanted a lift. at first i thought no. not on your life, not in that gas guzzler, then i thought. wait a minute. this thing has a 5 litre in it right? there is no way that this guy is using a half his engine power toting his golf clubs, why not get in and do the environment a favour by better using the potential of this monster. He dropped me off at the top of George's Lake which was about 5 km down the trail. I made sure to tell him that i was walking for the cure for cars, and he told me that he had a little 4 cylinder for booting around town. He was a nice guy but i think he had a little to much money. he was into realestate and happened to own the little internet cafe in St. John's, where i paid $11 to type out the first of these blobs.

It was a fine sunny walk down the side of George's lake. I ran into some cottages here an there. A couple of people stopped me to give me some water, and i talked to some bye's who were installing a water pump, but other than that the community of Spruce Brook, is a sleepy one. It was only 8 kms to Gallants from there, So i picked up my pace as it was getting into the late afternoon. I got to Gallants Just after i smoked my last smoke. only to realize that i had no cash, and there ain't interac. I let out a few profanities in front of the store, then went back in to buy 3 smokes off the lady behind the counter. she charged me a dollar fifty. i really gotta quit that stinkin habit. its no good really. anyhow, that little upset fueled my fodder, and i was bent on getting to Stephenville Crossing that night. I had to. plus it was starting to look like rain again. So i walked, and walked. Saw a man on an ATV with a moose head strapped to the front. I shuddered again. I thought about giving up my opportunistic ways and going back to vegetarianism. i walked some more. it started to get chilly. i walked some more. the sun set. I walked some more. in the failing light i caught sight of a plume of smoke. It was maybe 2 kms down the trail. I made for it. I got there as the dark really started to set in. It turned out to be a cabin so i went to ask how far it was to Black duck which is about 10 kms from Stephenville Crossing. He told me that i had made it, but not without inviting me in first. The offered me coffee, which i declined, and then they offered me cake, which i accepted. They told me i was nutz for walking the trail by myself. "whatever" i thought "everyone knows i'm crazy." Then the owner of the cabin asked me if i wanted a ride to the highway, which is about halfway to Stephenville Crossing. I accepted and he went out to get his quad ready. The lady of the house made me sign the guest book before i left, and handed me 2 bananas for breakfast. When i got outside Mike Commented "i think you might see some rain tonight." "i hope not" i replied. i straddled the bike and on hopped mike. The trail gets all wavy from Black duck on. It was like i was on the highseas riding on the back of that thing. We saw a moose dart across the path. mike yelled "i'll see you tomorrow." (your not allowed to hunt on sundays, otherwise he probably would have shot at it.) He dropped me off like he said, at the highway.

I started down the dark trail imediately. The half moon illuminating it enough to be able to see the large bits of gravel. Soon I saw the lights glow over the horizon. Then i saw the dim shadow of the water tower. and slowly i crested a hill to reaveal the town and the ocean. I didn't get very far into town before i found a bird sanctuary. I ended up hunkering down in a Duck blind there.

I have to end this now as the library is about to close and i have to get walking

only 150kms to go

sorry for cutting it short "c'est la vie"







posted : 2005.Sep.18 @ 9.07am
The Duck blind was suitable shelter for the evening. It had a gaping door which let in alot of rain and wind, but i patched it over with a tarp. It was raining something fierce in the morning. So i stayed in there till about 10. Hoping that it woud pass. Which it did. There wasn't much to do in there while i waited though. Except watch ducks out on the pond. Lucky little guys, being coated in a natural film of oil must be nice. The rain don't matter to a duck. When the clouds cleared a bit i packed up my gear and struck out for the trail once again. which was just across the road. The trail took me across a little bay and into a shrubby area. It was still drizzling on and off but it didn't soak through the Harris tweed. which was pleasing.

On i hiked until i got to St. George, where i stopped for a sandwich in a little shop. I talked to a man who was running for council, and a lady who swore she would never leave the rock. they were nice people. right ready for idle talk. alot of gossip. I listened for a while after my sandwich, but it really wasn't that entertaining so i took my leave, and went in search of a Library. It turned out to be attached to Town hall, in this plaza which hosted all the mucicipal offices, including the Volunteer Fire Dept. I pecked out most of the "story so far" there. then had to leave as the library was closing. It was raining again when i left and i didn't feel to much like walking so i found the town lounge and sat in on some more gossip. The rain let up again fairly soon so i didn't have to hang out long. Then it was back to the trail to see if i could add at least another 10 kms to the mere 12 i had already clocked. It didn't happen. I barely made it to St. Teresa. I set up my tarp along side the trail there, and slept unsoundly on the gravel once again. The wind played with my tarp for most of the night. making it rise and fall. dampening my face everytime it lifted. Half way through the night the wind stopped and i saw the fattening half moon poke through the clouds.

The next morning was sunny and cool. I started out early hoping to make up for the weak preformance of the day before. I passed a few houses and stopped to ask a man for a splash of the ol nectar of the gods. he obliged and i was soon on my way. It was a gorgeous day for walking. The blue skies were exhilirating. I ran into a few trestles that were out so i had to ford the streams. Then i got to a part where the whole track had been flooded out by a beaver. I mistakenly thought that i would be able to inch along the side on the sedge bed, but that proved to be a terrible idea. The sedge gave way to mud and i got double soakers. Once my feet were wet though i just waded across. splashing through boggy beaver water up to my knees.

I hiked on to Robinsons by mid afternoon. Upon making it to the paved road noticed a sign that had become all to familiar to me. I had been seeing them for the past 400 kms or so. It was advertizing a place called "Pirates Hideaway." All of the other signs i had seen, had GPS Co-ordinates at the bottom of the sign. This sign was different though. instead of Longitude and latitude numbers it had 2kms posted underneath. It was pointing down the road. I checked my map and the road was eventually going to curve back to the trail, so i decided to take a side adventure to see where pirates hide these days. It didn't take long to get there. It was pretty much up and over a hill. It turned out to be a hotel/bar/general store/ Gas Bar. "Oh yeah" I said to myself, "they must be some of them capitalist pirates." I went into the store and bought an Ice Cream but not without giving the lady behind the counter a good yarrring. I asked about the pub and when they opened for food. It wasn't due open for another hour so i went out side with my ice cream and sat down in the sun. I found a popsicle stick, and tried to make small insects walk the plank, but they had grippy toes and were able to walk upside down when i pushed them toward the end. The bar-tender let me in a little early, along with some people who were jonesing to play the VLM's (therein lies the pirate thievery). I ordered my usual, and wrote in my journal till it arrived. I caught her almost put some of that icky cheese on it, but i managed to stop her just in time. Not a bad burg. but they're hard to screw up, unless your name happens to be Mc Donald.

I didn't get my supplies at the pirates hideaway though. There prices were completely unreasonable. They wanted a whole $1.89 for their cans of chef. outrageous. Instead i asked if there was a Store in St. Fintan's. the lady at the store said that it had better selection, and it was right next to the trailway. Why did i stop here then, gees had i know that i would've been there by now. I guess advertisment works well, especially when you get anticipation building by introducing thought several hundred kilometres away. St. Fintan's wasn't that far off either just a mere 12 kms or so. I got there while the sun was just starting to get lazy about its beaming. The store was pretty good. I inquired about a phone, nope, i inquired about some postcards, nope, but the price of a can of chef was just $1.35, excellent. I bought only one. the stuff really is disgusting. It'll be the post-apocalyptic brand of choice i think. good when there just isn't anything else around. I also purchased some Fruits and a bunch of carrots there. The only stuff that i could be sure hadn't sat there since the opening of the store. I think thats the toughest part of any adventure. Eating out of Gas Stations and backwoods general stores. It makes me wonder how the people without cars survive in towns like that. do they subsist on the chef, good ol' campbell, and that vile minute rice? Do they know what a fresh cracker tastes like? Or has the BHT added to maintain freshness, reassured them that the food is still in its freshest state? and how about the peanut butter, stuff so old that no amount of added chemicals can keep it from seperating. Whatever from St. Fintan's to Port-aux-Basque there was only 93 kms left until i would be back in the land of Big Box stores and consumer freedom.

After making a postcard from a travel brochure, i left the store to hit the trail for a hard night of walking. I wanted to make up for the previous day where i only walked maybe 20kms at best. I stopped on the outskirts of town for a piece of fruit and some carrots. A couple out on their own walk passed me by. They were being tailed by an orange Calico. "Thats the first cat i've seen that likes to go for walkies with humans" i commented to them. "Oh he's not ours, he just started following us." they replied and continued on their way. I finished my snack, rolled a smoke and followed after them. It didn't take long to overtake them, as they had short legs and had just turned to head back. As i passed them again i stopped to pet the pussy and have a few more lines of dialogue with them. We went our seperate ways, I down the trail for more adventure, and they back to their home and television. About 4 minutes later I hear some meows coming from behind me. The cat having not gotten his fill of adventure, was following me now. it was a little ways back. I stopped and let it catch up. I gave him some more pets, and told him that i wasn't going back to St. Fintan's, and he might not like walking 30-40 kms a day. But he didn't seem to comprehend, so started walking again, and he trotted on along beside me. stopping every few minutes to sniff at something, or try and see what just made that noise in the bushes. At one point he went chasing after a rabbit that was twice his size. Lucky for him it got away. I kept my pace. Slowly he started to slip behind me. When he got 10 feet behind he would meow until i stopped to let him catch up. I told him again that I was going to try and walk 20 kms that night, but he just purred and rubbed up against my legs till i petted him some more. Then i started walking and he'd stay right beside me for a while, and slowly start slipping back. until he was to far and started to meow, and i'd stop again, or slow down till he caught up. This game continued on past sunset. It got to be a little annoying, and i started to hope that he would stop following me. but everytime i stopped to give him pets, he would be so affectionate that i just couldn't bare to leave him behind.

We got to a bridge as the last light blue of the sky was melting into a navy hue. I stopped here and decided to call it a day. My original intent was to walk on as far as i could that night, but with the cat my progress had seriously been checked. I set up camp on top of the bridge, it being fairly wide with lots of space for an ATV to pass. As soon as i had the shelter built, St. Fintan jumped in on top of my sleeping bag and sat squinting at me. "So now your going to steal my bed as well as my speed, eh?" i said. he squinted some more and mewed a bit, the rumble of his purr increased a decible. I sat there and watched the stars come out. The 3/4 moon making the river sparkle something nice. I crawled into bed a little later, moving Fintan over a bit, and fell asleep slowly. Halfway through the night i woke up to find Fintan gone. "Well that friendship didn't last long," i thought, rolled over and continued to sleep. I woke to Fintan's meow's, at about 6:00 or so. The dark sky starting its reverse, back into light. I turned to Fintan who was sitting at my head in a most proud manner, that only cats seem capable of doing. I looked him over, and noticed that there was a tiny little vole or shrew at his feet. He seemed to be presenting it to me as a gift. I picked it up. It was indeed dead. "Congrats there Fintan" i said. "Good job on getting that one, I'm sure it deserved it." I gave him a belly rub and he purred on like a porche diesel.

I packed up my tarps in record time, as it was a frigid morning, and struck out within 15 minutes of waking up. I started off down the trail with a burst of speed and enthusiasm. Ready to break that 93 kms into smaller chunks. St. Fintan on the other hand, he was tired having been up all night killing shrews. He meowed terribly, and walked even slower than the night before. There is something about a cats meow, that gives you a good idea of what they are trying to say. The meow the day before sounded like "Hey, wait up, I want to come too." but the meow this morning was "Aw, com'on do i have to. can't we just take a little break." I fell for it, and needless to say, my progress was stymed as a result. Every 50 feet or so, he'd complain and try to get me to slow down. It got a little frustrating, so i had breakfast. The morning sun was just climbing over the trees when i stopped. I cracked the can of Chef. I had nothing to offer Fintan, except what i was eating, and i was curious as to see how picky he was. I flopped a ravioli down on a little rock in front of him. He licked all the sauce off of it first, then devoured it and looked at me for some more. I gave him another piece. He demolished it. so i gave him another. Boy that cat was hungry. And i thought he was eating shrews all night or something. I ended up splitting the can with him 50/50. when i set the can down after i had finished, he licked it clean as far in as his face would let him. Then he went out into the middle of the trail to lay in the sun. I smoked a cigarette and watched his neural transmitters shut down. "Great" i thought, "Now i've got a sleepy pussy." i watched him somemore, gave him another belly rub then i hoisted my pack. As soon as i had done so, he sat up lazily and blinked several times at me. I started down the trail, when i got a few metres away, he let out a loud meow. I turned, he was still sitting where i left him. I asked him "You coming along or what?" He blinked and squinted at me as cats often do, but said nothing. He made no motion of following. So i said "Goodbye St. Fintan McNewf: Patron Saint of the Purrs." I could just barely hear him rumbling away. then i turned and didn't look back.







posted : 2005.Sep.22 @ 3.35pm
As i parted ways with Fintan, i couldn't help but feel a little disappointment. I thought intially that i had found a walking partner at long last. But i suppose it was an inevitable break-up. his legs were barely the length of my ankle. Incompatible gaits i guess. i had a lump in my throat as i walked away. and when i stopped for my next break, i looked back to see if his white head would poke around the corner. but he didn't show and i continued down the road.

That day turned out to be quite interesting. I fell through a trestle bridge. My back pack stopped my drop into the Codroy River, though. i got distracted by the scenery and missed the next railway tie. it wasn't my most graceful moment. but no one saw. The trail followed the river for most of the day. It started out in a valley, and slowly opened up to bogs and ponds, or as the newf's say "pands." I neared what i thought to be my next store at around 4:00. I had been running low on snackables and looking forward to seeing the store. I passed a man chopping wood and asked him where the store was. He told me, "your too late bye, it closed 6 months ago." not a nice thing to say to a hungry traveller. But his next line was better, "I can fix you a cup of caffee though." I took him up on his offer.

He welcomed me into his humble home and introduced me to his girl friend. Doris sat me down and rolled me a smoke, while BJ busied himself with the proctor-silex. Doris He then rummaged in the fridge for a minute, and produced a log of Bolongna. "Like a sandwich?" he asked and procceded to cut me a steak of the log. It was about an inch thick. slapped on a bunch of mustard and mayo, and shored it up with a couple of slices of the ol' nutritionless white bread. Hungrier than a bunch of hippies at a reggae concert, i reduced the san to crumbs and cheek wipes in seconds. Doris offered me a little of her homemade jam, so with another couple of slices of styrofoam i sampled some of her wares. quite tastey. Nothing better than a newfie raspberry. Bj then sat down and we rapped about history for a while. Apparently an island near Newfoundland is the site of the Solar Eclipse that helped prove a bunch of English therories on the size of the globe. Good ol' globe trottin Cap'n Cook was sent there upon science's request. Science at the time had a bunch of numbers sitting about, and when they calculated them, they came up with a site of a solar happening. An eclipse. the co-ordinates they came up with were in the New world. Cap'n Cook who was going there to map stuff, was given this special mission. To observe the eclipse and prove that their "guess" was right. Interesting facts always make for good conversation.

I left BJ & Doris's keep just past 5. They told me that there was a store in the next town so i figured i would walk the 12 kms to Doyle's that eve. with the pot of coffee we consumed coursing through my viens, i sped down the trail as a mack truck filled with lead on a hill with no e-brake. I nearly ran over an old man. He had a bicycle pump in his hand. I asked him if he had a flat. "No its for filling me raft." he replied. He had just been out across the river cutting wood for winter. He was waiting for winter to retrieve it though. He walked with me for a few feet then turned off to the highway. His wife was going to pick him up there. Hard to understand that chap though. he spoke without moving his teeth, and it seem as though he was experiencing the onset of parkinsons. The dark was creeping up at that point. Night was coming, and i was told that the store would close at 10 so i picked up the pace.

It was full on dark when i got to the crossroads. I followed it out to the highway, and found the esso as predictated. The store had just closed. 5 minutes past 9. Curses. I was trapped and had to sleep in the vicinity to be sure that i could purchase food for the next day. Luckily i found a Truck trailer to sleep under. There even was grass. A nice soft sleep. with a few slugs, but none of those giant ones, thank god.

The next morning i purchased a coffee, and a bunch of high energy food i.e. highly refined sugar. No Carob chip energy balls here. The man behind the counter told me that the ferry across to Nova Scotia leaves at 11:30 pm. Only 32 kms away. So i sped off. It only took half the morning to make it to the ocean. Several quads passed me with riders decked in camo, and rifles riding shotgun. i sent a quick telepathic message to all the moose in the area.

The last 20 kms of the trail had to be one of the highlights. As the trail neared the ocean, its familiar smells tickled the nose. the shoreline was a rolling line of rocks, cliffs, and kelp, with mountains rising off to the left. I had this little chart which told me the distance between towns. allegedly i passed through 3 towns along the shore. There were no towns, but there were some lovely abandoned buildings. I passed a posse of old folks out picking Cranberries. I had been eating the berries for the past week. it was nice to finally confirm that they were indeed cranberries. the pickers weren't to talkative. they seemed to be really focused on the ground. I'm not one to break concentration. I may have to kill buddha on the road, but no one else should have to. I left them to their zen.

Onward and over Red Rocks, i asked a man where i was. He told me that i was in Cape Ray. closer than i thought. For some reason i thought there was still 20 kms to go. No such luck. I was 3 kms from single digits. Mike the chap whom i asked where i was, invited me in for a cup of tea. Being so close to my goal, i felt the release from the pressure to preform. I turned out to be just the right thing. A cup of Orange pekoe, a tuna sandwich, and a talk about local economics, while we sat around his living room table. A nice afternoon sit if ever i had one.

The last 12 kms to port aux Basque, were absolutely fantastic. I am not sure if it was the elation i was experiencing from being so close to done, or the awesome beaches i was passing. Perhaps both. It wasn't particularly sunny, but it was warm. The rolling of the waves enticing. I had a rather randy idea. I walked out on to the beach and stripped. Nothing like a good bit of nudity to fully enjoy a good mood that's what i always say. The gulf of St. Lawerence was cold. shrinkingly cold. I laid down in the surf and let the waves roll over me for about 30 seconds. in fact i shouldn't even pluralize that it was one wave before i stood straight up. Refreshing all the same though. Then i ran around up and down the beach for a bit to regain a bit of blood flow. and release my testicles from their hiding place somewhere up inside my pelvis. Just then a car came barreling down the dirt path. I turned and waved at it. They sped up. briefly then slowed down once they'd passed. It was two ladies in their mid 40's and they were giggling like school girls. They didn't stop though. just kept on bouncing along. So i clothed myself and hoisted the pack once again.

The trail followed along the shore through the dunes and past a few brackish marshes. They were quite pretty complete with paddling ducks. One of the fresh water marshes had a beaver home in it. Posted on the mound of sticks was a sign that read House For Sale by owner. "Damn beaver haters." I chuckled. The land around was all park land, J.T. Cheeseman Provincial park to be exact. I saw no cheese unfortunately.

As i crested the last rise of the track, i saw the town of Port-aux-Basque. It was your typical harbour town. Lots of greyish white siding clinging to foundations that are barely on a rock. a few Boats in the water, and fog a little ways out to sea. I sat down there and got high. Not from drugs or alcohol, but from the sense of reaching a goal previously thought to be unattainable. then i came down realizing that this was the end. So i stood up and hoisted the pack. taking small steps to preserve the last kilometre or two. The track turned into pavement as i crossed the first of the outlying streets. It was an odd ending to the miles and miles of rail aggregate that i had just traversed. As i rounded the last corner i saw the train. The old Newfie Bullet, The blueberry express, as some called it. Here was its final home. the tracks all torn. It invited me with its huge, orange, snowplow smile. Just before the train the ashphalt ended again for several metres. I stooped and kissed the chunky rock.







posted : 2005.Sep.22 @ 3.54pm
hey thanks for reading it through this far. I apologize for my terrible grammar and spelling. You see most of these posts were hastey emails and never double checked. but if you've made it this far then you must've been able to see beyond those little details.

I am currently wondering what to do next. I hopped the bus and now am back in south ontario. Its only temporary. Working as an assistant car mortician at an auto recyclers outfit in oakville. Its dirty dirty work, but it should give me the abiltity to get back to vancouver. Thats where puddle lives, so until that time i won't be able to post any pics. And i still have to get over the barrier of having no place to host them. Bloody telus blocked my old "website" well it wasn't really a website. more like a public access HTML thinger. My brother would know what to call it. he was the one responsible for it. He was supposed to get a commercial internet connection while i've been galavanting around. I'm not sure if its in the works or not. Anyhow that was to many words and to much description to lead into this question thats been at the back of my mind for quite some time. HOW in the hell do i host stuff on the internet? I really aught to get on that train if i want to be an famous/infamous artist.

Another couple of questions that are probably a lot easier to put into literary terms are: How did you like the story? Where should i walk next? and anybody want to get in on this whole "walk for the cure" idea? I am looking for a few cool chaps and chapettes to dig into this and turn it into something other than just me. I may come off as egotistical but, me is the only current project that i am involved in.

but thanks for your time in any case, and i look forward to hearing some feedback.

aaron






    

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