Chapter 9: Interlude

Monday, we were back walking east on Highway 20, and for now, Rachel was out front, and Cathleen was rear guard. Our doctrine of alternating the lead gave us all experience and some stress relief.

It was early afternoon, and the temperature was dropping. The gloomy sky and the blustery wind meant more crappy weather was on the way again and made me wish we had remained holed up in our last refuge. It hadn't been wonderful, but it had a roof and walls.

Too late now.

"Looks like we had better find a roosting place for the night," I called out. "There hasn't been a building in a while, but if we get caught out and wet, it will be very miserable and dangerous."

Rachel pointed to a spot about a hundred yards ahead. "Do you think we can do anything with those bales of hay?"

I looked and saw rows of the large rolled bales typical along this stretch. Two rows were close together with another row on top, but yet another row was about seven feet from its closest neighbor. When we got closer, we could see that one end of the gap was partially blocked by a skewed bale. Sloppy work, but maybe a lifesaver for us, especially since the open space was in the lee of the wind.

"Okay, Ladies, we can make this work," I directed. "Haul out those standard duty tarps and the gutter nails. Stretch Rachel's twelve by sixteen over the bales and drive the nails through the grommet holes into the hay. The tighter the stretch and the further around the bales the better. I'll anchor the third side over the bale at the end."

With the sides of the tarp stretched over the curve of the bales, it was workable - just. A high wind would have defeated us, but the overlap kept the current wind from getting under the tarp and lifting it.

"If we fold Cathleen's tarp and use it as a ground cloth, we can keep our gear and us from the damp ground," I continued. "It won't do much for the cold, but it will help some. I'll lace my six by eight across the open end. If we put our gear on the ground tarp, we should be in pretty good shape."

The explanation was easier than the doing, but we did manage to make a nest, and not too soon. The wind held steady, but the rain and some sleet were beginning.

Cathleen yelled, "Last chance to pee!" and ran to the lee side of the bales. She dropped her pants, let fly, wiped, and ran back to the shelter. Neither Rachel nor I were far behind. We removed our boots before entering. Mud would not be our friend.

Depending on your viewpoint - our little cave was cramped or cozy. My ladies made it cozy.

Rachel took over. "You two get all the way to the end and shine a light while I make sure the ground tarp reaches up the bales to keep out any water. Then help me open and spread our sleeping bags - two on the bottom, one on the top. Two layers under us should help insulate us some."

Once that was accomplished, she directed us in laying out our gear on the door flap, making sure we could move it for reasonably easy potty breaks. Access to our food was also a priority.

Between the gloomy outside and the dark tarps, very little light penetrated, though it was only about two o'clock when we finished. Thanks to LEDs, we had plenty of battery power to play gin for a while. Gentle Cathleen proved to be a real shark, racking up points hand after hand. By five o'clock, Rachel and I owed her enough to fund a lavish retirement.

About that time, my stomach announced its need, and Cathleen tried to appease us by playing chef. "Tonight lady and gentleman," she started, "We have a four-course, fixed price offering." Handing us each a pack of Lance peanut butter crackers, she continued, "Starters is fresh, toasty crackers with rich peanut butter, followed by tasty ravioli in tomato sauce," She produce a forty-ounce can of Chef Boyardee and a can opener. "accompanied by tender asparagus," another can, "and topped off with a desert of tasty Georgia peaches." Yet another can.

It was a lot of food, but with the cold and exercise, we needed the calories. Cathleen opened the cans and we shared a spoon, eating cold, straight from the cans to minimize clean up when we were done. I broke out a can of Sterno, pulled back the flap a little, and heated enough water for each of us to have a canteen cup of hot chocolate.

We took another trip outside to relieve bladder pressure, and I took our trash some distance away to minimize the risk of a predator or rodent crawling in with us, attracted by the smell. The rain and sleet had abated somewhat, so the time outside was tolerable.

Once back inside and stripped of our boots and ponchos, Cathleen proposed a change of games. "I'm already rich off you guys." She teased. "Now I want entertainment - so how about strip poker?"

It wasn't exactly toasty in our little cave, but shelter from the wind and our body heat made the proposition possible. Rachel and I looked at each other, and she laughed. "Done! Game on!" and we got organized.