Home for the night, mile 1055, Dupont, LA

The Mississippi, St. Francisville, LA

Crossing the track of my kayak trip...

Can't describe all this very well- the frozen fingers, the bad coffee, and buttery grits, the thousand miles of rural South, sleeping in a damp bag- or why it is all so good.

Mostly, it is an emptying of mind. And if I try to describe it, the description begins to supplant the experience.