August 13, 2004

The following is a transcript of notes made on August 2nd, the 19th day of my trek:
And the 19th morning on the road was tender, overwhelming. Martha and I awoke to the smell of coffee and found everyone downstairs eating pancakes and thinking about leaving Collingwood. But before they left, we took one last tour of the city to find plastic flowers, dams, harbours, and armies of old ladies celebrating birthdays in Chinese restaurants with a Vegas motif.

Holding sweaty hands on summer days is an irresistible thrill.

And then it was time for goodbyes. Once more I hugged Trevor, Simon, and Zorianna and watched them get in the orange hunchback. “I’ll see you in a week,” I promised. The spark of orange disappeared behind the corner, and Martha and I were left all alone.

What shall we do now? What do? We rushed out in her mother’s car to find a bowling alley where she won decisively time and again until I made her lose her concentration and her game.

And after bowling, we ate ice cream and climbed trees, talking about Milton for an hour, just to get down again and drive to a restaurant full of lamps. We drank endless cups of tea, each gulp interspersed with infatuation and Blakeian intensity.

“Let’s find the sunset,” I said.

But instead of sunsets we found the Devil’s Glen and rushed down endless steps, our legs in tune as we leaped into the depths of the valley. Darkness waited for us at the bottom.

“Come into this shadow here and I’ll show you fantastic sunsets,” I beaconed. But instead I closed her eyes and kissed her lips on top of a termite mount. And we drove home, our hearts still fluttering, to find a delicious dinner in the middle of a thunderstorm. For desert, we danced in the dark.