The Longest Kilometer, PART 2 (Storming the Beach)

April 4, 2008, 0801hrs Thursday

I miss my Eddy! He's gone, just yesterday, and I'm sleeping in a guest bed in his uncles house. Wow what a cool family I've woke up to. Actually, I only woke up to meet them for a moment, and retreated quickly to my room to have a quiet morning decompressing. There is so much to write about, remember, reflect, and share. I want to tell the story, but wonder if there just isn't too much. Nevertheless, where I am in the middle of now, I wish to spare no detail. Because when I left this story a week ago I was standing on the bank of a river, with the great reeds and briar forest of the Odeceixe crossing behinnd me, America and the Atlantic ocean 200 meters to my right, and the river directly ahead . It was still March 8, and there was another choice, which was to go left. Going left meant waling upstream and hoping that a bridge would eventually present itself to cross.
This seemed like the sensible thing to do. We were tired, annoyed, ready to find ourselves in Odeceixe, ready for a beer and a good meal, ready to find Saskia, ready to see our hopes fulfilled of warm dry beds, ready for showers, laughs, and good times. We were ready, but we were not there yet. We truly did not even know if that existed. We really had only one true hope on which we could rely, the provision of God.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. So what happens when the evidence becomes seen? Faith goes away. Hope is realized, The evidence that was once unseen is now seen.
At that time, standing on the river beach, what I could see was that the day was windy and still getting darker. It was not the nice sunny day on the beach good for a swim. The day had gone from hazy to grey, to dark day.
Now at dark day, Eddy did not want to take a nice walk up stream. He wanted to get to the beach on the other side and intended us to cross right through the river to do it. I again nominated Eddy who was the originator of these great ideas to lead the way and scout the river.
The current was strong but the river crossable. Crossable that is if you could manage to find the shallow way across so that the water comes up no further than the hair on your beard.
Eddy stripped himself down to his drawers and waded in. the Odeceixe beach was just ahead of him. This your already know. But what I forgot to say was that on the side of the river we now stood, there were several campers enjoying their trailers in the lot just to our backs. Our wild manner of appearance should have caught their eye promptly. Had they maintained their curious inspection, they would have chuckled their way through a 45 minute adventeure sure to break up the monotony of trailer life.
Eddy was in the water up to his ankles. From the river side I could see his back tense up, his shoulders shrug, his ribs ripple with his gasps and quick - hard breathing, and his legs tense up. His goose bumps were so big, I could even see them from where I stood ashore. Red blotches were also visible up and down his back and legs. The water must have been cold.
So I watched apprehensively as he waded on in, with his arms out as he slowly picked his balance among the sharp stones. As he made it up to his waste, there was more shivering, and I could see him wrestling the current as he looked for a way across the beach.
I'll spare you the rest, only to say the crossing was too deep. His beard got wet along with his ears and eyeballs. After making it to the otherside, he tried again, returning at a different point. that was still too deep. He retreated and looked for another place. After other tries, he finally found one a short distance up stream. He also gashed his toe on a rock as he worked his way down stream to collect his things.
After relocating our bags and gear up to the crossing, Eddy took off across the river with the first load of supplies. Meanwhile, I got undressed. It was now my turn to get cold and wet.
The first trip was the most painful. First the at the feet, then at the ankles, then I was okay till the knees. For some reason, the surface always feels the coldest... it is that first couple of centimeters meeting the body for the first time that bring your teeth to bite your tongue, and your eyes to roll into the back of your head. Actually, that wasn't my reaction at all. I wish I could say I managed with such dignity and grace. I sounded more like an out of breath cow, moaning my way in as i went deeper into the cold steady current. At my waste I began gasping, "Balls! Balls! Balls!"over and over again. (I wish I could say it wasn't true, but I'd be lying.) After finally making it to the otherside and then standig up finally on the cold windy beach of Odeceixe, with the air moving brisk beneath my arms and at my waste and legs... cooling the water clinging to them, I lost all shyness with the cold river and quickly made my way back in. Swimming now with my hands free of goods, I began to increase my speed so that by the end I actually lapped Eddy having begun last, but finishing first.
So quickly now I was working -trying to run but with no success. I wobbled unstable trying to balance my bare feet on the sharp stones beneath me. And making my way on shore for the next load of everything I own. I don't remember how many loads we had to carry, although I think it was about 5 or 6, which meant 10 or 12 trips across the river.
When it was all over, I wasted no time working to dry off without a towel... I think I used my sweater. then putting warm clothes back on over my cold wet speedos.
Once dressed, laughing we caught our breath and celebrated the storming of the beach head by exploring the beach, and watching the sunset.
I went up into the village and spoke to a local bar keeper who said that Saskia's Taska was in Odeceixe village about 3km from there. When I met up with Eddy, he had already met another local with 5 dogs who said he knew Saskia and would drive us to her Taska. By the time we got in his car the wind was blowing hard enough to stagger me side ways. The clouds were thicker and darker and thoughI had felt sprinkles from time to time throughout the afternoon, I felt the first big drops of rain just before we got in the car.
So nice to find a roof over your head, and a warm ride for tired bodies just in the nic of time... Bless God.

The Longest Kilometer, PART 1

March 27, 2008-Thursday 1054hrs.
My apologies for stopping that last cast as abruptly as I did. Eddy came in just as I was completing my description of the beautiful cliffs of Portugal´s Atlantic coast. Now is two days later, and there is even more to catch up on. It may be useful for you just to get used to this format of up to the minute reporting prose followed by flash backs. At least it may be appealing to those of you who like to be kept on your toes.

Presently I am sitting in a green forest situated on a mountainside less than 30km from Barcelona. Eddy is passed out in the back of the station wagon and probably doesnt realise I abandoned him temporarily to escape from heavy traffic and write to you. Eddy was driving all night from SanPedro to somewhere off of Spain´s East coast where he woke me up to watch the sunrise before crashing in the back.

So I have today driven my first 100km in Europe thus finally braving European rotaries. About an hour ago I found myself seeing mountain tops with trees on them. For much of the trip the mountains have been covered in sparse scrub bushes. But this a-dopt from Asheville has lush green in his heart. I found myself moving slow with a long line of traffic stacked up ahead of me, and the engine was getting hot. So when I saw the dirt road leading up into the mountain, I knew what to do.

Now, in the quiet morning, beneath the trees, I can close my eyes for a moment and remember the coast of Portugal -- The wind whistling past my ears, the sun laying warm cutting through the cool hard breeze, the bushy green vegetation at my feet, and waves crashing on jagged rocks 20 meters below.

It was March 8th on a Saturday afternoon. Eddy and I were fresh from a good mid day nap and probably had sardines with bread and cheese that day up on the rock. Perhaps not even a kilometer away from there we found ourselves looking down at Odeceixe from the cliffs above. We were excited to finally make it to Odeceixe. We did not know anyone form there, but we knew someone who knew someone from there. Our good friend Nunno said there was an old friend who had a bar there. He said that when we made it into town we should just ask around and people will know where to send us. We were tired and ready for a break from the trail. I was looking forward to a real bed at least for one night, a shower, a nice meal, possibly some internet time, and good conversation.

Something told me that the weather was changing as well, and it was time to get indoors. Though the sun was still high and bright, the wind was getting colder, and I could see patches of dark clouds above. After a long look at the beach below, we decided we were ready to be on it. But there was a problem... how were we to get down there? Not only was there a cliff we had to climb down, but Odeceixe beach was bordered by the Atlantic ocean to the East, and a 40 meter wide river to the North. We found our way, but it proved to be the toughest km of the whole trip. My tarp still has holes to sew.

The first task was to get off the cliff. There was a dirt road to follow safely somewhere that probably led 3km inland to a bridge... a nice hike through private pasture land into Odeceixe. Eddy decided quickly to abandon that idea. He wanted the beach and before too long would find himself drawing blood to get it. As we walked a little ways down the pasture land road, he kept looking toward Odeceixe, and over the ledge of the rock. He made a couple of attempts along the side of the river from where we stood 20 meters above the beach. However, the cliff face was just too steep to descend with full packs. One or two hectares up stream Eddy

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1154hrs
I just saw, in a window through the trees, that there is still traffic below. So I´ll just sit at the wheel and write. I really want to finish this story. So what was I saying?

Right!

Our packs wer too heavy to climb down steep cliffs to get to the river. But Eddy kept looking for a way down. About 2 or 3 hectars into the pasture, the road had taken us through a tiny forest and away from the ridge of the cliff. Eddy wanted to cross a fence and go check for a good path down. I first of all was not so crazy of taking the hard quick way to the beach. I also am very hesitant about crossing fences. Getting caught tresspassing may be one good way to be thrown out of Shenghen. I told Eddy that he could go scout out the ridge and when he walks a good way down the trail and knows it will work, I´ll risk crossing fenced pasture to suit his fancy.

Eddy crossed the barbed wire fence and returned soon reporting that he had found an old trail. So now I was obliged to keep my word. I threw our bags over and hopped the barb wire fence into lush green grass.

Even though we were far out of sight of the coast the wind was as strong as ever and the tempeature was slowly dropping. The sun was hidden now and the dark clouds were gathering thicker, and as we rounded the pasture standing now just at the trail head, I felt the first drops of rain in two weeks. Rainfall did not actually happen until later on in the evening, but it spent the rest of the afternoon telling us it was coming.

Eddy and I had not got around but the second turn in the trail when it came to an end. I rolled my eyes. We backed up and started again. Eddy leading this time we made it a little further, but only far enough that we decided we did not want to turn back. Had I knew then what I know now, we would have turned back. Soon we found ourselves trapped with thick virtually impassible brush tangled with hard large black berry thorns on all sides. I wasn't cold anymore. I was getting hot and bloodied in the thorny thicket. Occaisionally I could here my tarp snagging on bushes behind me, and I had wondered if it was alright. It is not alright, and to that end I have work ahead of me uninstalling the sprinkler system put in my house that day. Eddy heroically beat down bushes ahead as I followed behind in such an unhelpful way as to say, "Okay, you wanted to go this way, you figure out how to get us through it." I tried to limit ny level of frustration by popping off cheeky remarks concerning our predicament and Eddy did his best to ignore them.

At about half way down the face of the slope (The gradient was scalable now, just completely overgrown), Eddy pulled out his little knife (Oh what we could have done with a machetti!) and began slowly cutting through the bush. At this point our traffic had gone from a slow shuffle to a dead halt. The rest of the way down the slope Eddy and I had to cut our way through the brush. It might as well have been like boaring a path through a bowl of dry spaghetti at least two meters high and two hectars deep.

We found ourself actually crossing a stream under all the scrub, but we did not get wet for the thick vegetation holding us suspended about 20 cm above the ground. On another occaision, we did not know rather to go right or left. That was tricky, because we finally decided on straight. However not before I instructed Eddy right which plunged Eddy into a one and a half meter pit of briars.

Not long (relatively speaking) after Eddy climbed out of the pit, we reached the bottom of the slope... we thought. Now all we had to do was climb through the reeds and we were home free. Climbing through the reeds is easier said than done. I did not know this before, but what I learned that day was that climbing through reeds is not the same as running through a bamboo forest like in the movie