Many thanks to fibernations for helping feed my quiz addiction.
You are Mohair. You are a warm and fuzzy type who works well with
others, doing your
share without being too
weighty. You can be stubborn and absolutely
refuse to change your position once it is set,
but that's okay since you are good at covering
up your mistakes.
What Kind Of Yarn are You?
I made it onto the boat yesterday! Turns out they are always full for campers, but they can generally fit you in for just the day. There were only 2 other daytrippers on my ferry, so naturally we got to talking after disambarking. We talked about what brought us out here, what kind of a trip we are on, all that sort of vacationy talk. I was pretty floored when it came out that the woman was driving around the US by herself for a year!
Later she told me of how shocked Canadians are when they hear about what she's doing. Not at the fact that she's a woman on her own, but she's an American woman on her own. American women don't do that sort of thing, they protested. What are you talking about, she said, I'm doing it! I thought for a while, and pointed out that besides myself, had she ever met or heard of any other American woman doing this?
Cumberland Island was stunning. A school of dolphins ushered us out of the harbor on the way out, a good omen if I've ever seen one. The first thing I saw when we got off was a long dirt road stretching out under ancient oaks with spanish moss dripping from them. It was a little gloomy at this point; the storm clouds were threatening, and the weather report was predicting thunderstorms by afternoon. It was perfect weather for viewing ruins.
Dungeness was a mansion used by a Carnegie brother. In its day, it must have been stunning; along the lines of Hearst Castle. Maybe not quite that grand, but trying hard. Today, I think it's even more stunning. A fire destroyed most of the building in the 20's, and now there are just towering walls covered in greenery, wrought iron grids looking more like dungeon windows than I'm sure they were meant to, and crumbling chimneys. The cement stairs leading up to it are untouched, as is the fountain in the rear. The rec center a short ways off, though untouched by the fire, is a crumbled mass of ruin now as well.
What with the gloomy weather and the tropical overgrown surroundings, I was in heaven just poking around. After a while, I continued wandering down the path to the beach. And what a beach! Miles and miles of pristine sand, with not a soul in sight for miles. I walked and walked, pacing a fishing boat off the coast that was swarming with seabirds. It was just after high tide, so there were hundreds and hundreds of intact shells everywhere, along with starfish, sea cucumbers, and one unfortunate horseshoe crab tangled in a net that had washed ashore. I'd seen their empty shells all along the way, but this was a whole, live guy. He looked like an alien, all black under his orange shell, with thousands and thousands of legs waving in the air, and a pointy tail whipping around angrily. A pair of hikers were just in the process of rescuing the little guy, so, happily, I just got to watch and didn't have to touch.
I walked farther down the beach, and came to the place where my map ended. Then I walked a little bit more, as I wasn't ready to turn around just yet. I had my knitting and a book, but I just wanted to keep wandering. So I turned inland after a while, and wandered in the interior jungle. Coming to an intersection, I decided it was time to wander back, so I chose the familiar path, the one that would take me back. And it was just about then that I nearly stepped on my first armadillo.
Well, this was clearly a sign. I turned down the path that he was on, and started wandering some more. I counted 15 armadillos by the end of my journey. He also led me to an airstrip, the historic Stafford house, about a dozen of the famous wild horses no less than a 10 feet away in the underbrush, until finally I came to the Island Wilderness area. At that point, I had to admit that I wasn't going to come to a road going my direction, and that I was headed precisely the wrong way.
So I wandered on back the way I had come, wandering a little bit faster since I had no earthly idea where I was and where the ferry dock was in relation to me. I finally found the main road, Greyfield (really not as exciting as I hoped), and the dock. An hour early. Oh well, that gave me time to take my shoes off and lie down for a while.
Today my muscles are screaming at me for walking about 3 times further than I really should have, but it was worth every ache. I had a great time.
The night before last I was sick and tired of all this shit, and planning my return trip. Yesterday morning I decided I still haven't had a job on a lobster boat off the coast of Maine, so naturally, I have to keep on
It's always hardest at night, though. I can coax myself into having a wonderful time, especially if I am out there moving and exploring, but at night, cozying up in a cold parking lot that looks just like every other parking lot I've ever seen, it's hard to convince myself that this is worth it. Still, the thought of having a job on the Atlantic is pulling me on. And touring with Rachael in April. And the girls' wedding in Vermont in May. So really, I've got enough to keep me out here for a while. And after all that, I can always hightail it home on my now empty credit cards.
Sorry, needed a little pep talk there. Actually I needed the pep talk a couple nights ago, but I just found it yesterday.