Mike's Brats

Green's Point canoe landing, hell-if-I-know-where, MN. The river here just north of Brainerd is wide as oceans. It's immensity freaks me out. Forests and river mud rice fields wild forever.

Just when my morale was nose-diving late today, that song came on by Nelly Free-tardo or some shit, and I had to admit it was good advice out here in this sea of rice. She sings, "I'm gonna soak up the sun.. tell everyone to lighten up," and this: "When I'm feeling lame, I'm lookin up."

We'd lost Eric yesterday, but there he was again tonight. And it was all right. I've given up. One more brow beating from Frank like I got the other night over buying beer when I shoulda been buying food and so on, and he won't have to kick me out of his boat. I'll be gone of my own will.

Tonight went singingly, as non-town nights seem to be going for us on the river. Frank's got a knack for gettin' people to invite us in or over, and tonight went well. The nearest local, a guy named Joe, didn't invite us but said we would be fine camping down at the canoe landing (even though a dozen signs speak to the contrary). But here we are.

We wanted to make a fire though, a wood fire over which to cook our bratwursts from Mike. So, three houses down Frank met Sue who said sure, you can use our fire pit. Bratwurst never tasted so good, and the Milky Way came out and we doused the fire and made for bed. Big head winds tomorrow afternoon, so we gotta rise early and paddle hard to beat the winds to Brainerd. Already thanks to my writing, I have lost an hour of much-needed sleep. The boys have been sacked out for awhile.

Frank earlier said, "Powerlines, beautiful!" Indeed, landmarks to our progress out here are few and far between. Still, I can't help think, when power lines become a thing of beauty, you know you're life is become really strange. - RSM
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