A new day, a new state. We’re pushing the pedal, it’s not only the rivers running dry, but our money too. We’ve no choice but to shower at truck stops for $1, sleep on roadsides and eat what’s on special, withered greens and bruised pears. SA is already different, again each border crossing brings something new, at least we got to keep our honey. The landscape quickly changes fields and fields of wheat and wildflowers fade into rocky crags, to bush, the blue gum type I’m used to. Getting closer to home. So many different kinds of trees, I saw one stringy bark bleed purple at its core and another split in two by lightning.
It’s taken us a little while to get back into the swagman’s way and now, I want to stay. Stay in these seagull squawking scenes, the stench of rotting seaweed on white sand. Stay in between the warming sun and the cool afternoon breeze. But we’ve gotta go, a day here and there is all that’s left. Jake went spearfishing yesterday for the first time. He surfaced out of the weeds, a shriveled sea cucumber, shaking, barely holding four crabs in his purple hands. We cooked them up for dinner, 7 minutes in boiling water. Bodhi loved them, licked them up with a side of capers and anchovies as if the ocean wasn’t salty enough.