I packed the five copies of Malus Domestica in my backpack and headed to the post office in my old Army poncho. It’s about a two-and-a-half mile walk, which isn’t much, but it’s all hills and curves, bad enough that walking is actually more strenuous than taking the bicycle. On the bike you can do some coasting, especially on the big long hill 1/3 of the way out.
International postage is a bitch.
Anyway, the seams in my socks gave me blisters on my pinky toes and my hips started grinding on the way back, but overall I’m looking forward to this. Here’s hoping someone doesn’t pull a Stephen King on me out there on the road.
I don't know if I'm going to go there tomorrow but at some point this month I'd like to walk out to the Pinhoti Trail trailhead rest stop and look around. If there's a power outlet, maybe I'll start walking out there next spring to sit by myself and write. I won't have to worry about scaring the moms and joggers at the park with my creepy beardy automatically-a-sexmonster-because-I'm-an-unmarried-man-alone-at-the-park face, at any rate.