Day 20

Isolated. That's the word that comes to mind when I look around. Not much but fields and farm land far as the eye can see. I'm glad to have found this place. I'm sure the tent isn't visible from the road. Oh, but back up. I've left out what happened before I got here.

Well, I wake at about 7:00 and have one more quick shower. Then, heading east on Lewis Street, I make my way out of Pasco. There's some big hullabaloo going on near the highway, and I can see old campers & caravans lining a giant lot where on a sign in big letters the words 'Flea Market' are written. There are Mexican folks everywhere preparing stalls to sell food, clothes, tires, you name it. It's really quite interesting, and I almost go in for a look, but then the pragmatist in me takes a hold and I move away toward Burbank.

Before you can get into this little town on the edge of Tri-cities, you must cross the Snake River. As I walk across the bridge I wonder where it begins. Next, I get lost for almost an hour, looking for a place to by water before getting on the 124. While I'm at a roundabout looking a bit perplexed, no doubt, a gentleman pulls over and offers 10 dollars cash to buy me some breakfast. Whether a matter of pride or simply an aversion to the thought of food at the time, I decline the offer but thank the man all the same. I think he looks slightly more perplexed than I possibly had as he pulls away.

After searching a little while longer, I find a Shell station and stock up on Poweraid (not because I particularly like the stuff, but because it's cheaper than water) and soon I'm trodding along highway 124, through McNary Wildlife Refuge first, and then past some extensive orchards and vast vineyards. The sweet smell of grapes carried on the wind is a welcome companion for several miles. But then it all sort of tapers off and I'm back to grazing land. And that, I suppose, is where this day ends. It's 19:00 now, but already the temperature has gone down substantially, so this is where I mummy up; the muffled calls of coyotes are my lullaby.