2010 March 8 - Day 23
Bear Creek Campground
If never we passed the trodden penny by, how many dollars might we have today?
After usual morning duties, I began making plans to visit Forks the following morning to file taxes. The thirteen-mile ride to town would be easy enough, but weather reports suggested - for suggestion is the extent of the powers possessed by forecasters in Washington State - that showers would dominate the afternoon and evening. The solution seemed to be riding the bus back to Bear Creek in the event of a downpour.
Lovely light quality at sunset this day.
However, I now realized a problem: only .55c could be mustered from every available pocket, pouch, and fold of the wallet. Whatever currency I carried besides was entombed in plastic. With a prayer to the God of little, as well as great graces, I searched the highway shoulder and lighted upon a single dime and nickle. Still five cents shy of the fare, I took this blessing as a tacit deposit upon my venture. I would bicycle into Forks the next day and expect, somehow or other, to find the needed nickel before the bus ride back.
I carved a walking pole and promptly lost it in Forks.
Besides the above, the only other notable events of this day were that I received an happy message, a dear friend had given birth to a son, and that I had an aloud argument with the late Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose book I was then reading and the theological views of which I took much difference with.
Bear Creek Campground
If never we passed the trodden penny by, how many dollars might we have today?
After usual morning duties, I began making plans to visit Forks the following morning to file taxes. The thirteen-mile ride to town would be easy enough, but weather reports suggested - for suggestion is the extent of the powers possessed by forecasters in Washington State - that showers would dominate the afternoon and evening. The solution seemed to be riding the bus back to Bear Creek in the event of a downpour.
Lovely light quality at sunset this day.
However, I now realized a problem: only .55c could be mustered from every available pocket, pouch, and fold of the wallet. Whatever currency I carried besides was entombed in plastic. With a prayer to the God of little, as well as great graces, I searched the highway shoulder and lighted upon a single dime and nickle. Still five cents shy of the fare, I took this blessing as a tacit deposit upon my venture. I would bicycle into Forks the next day and expect, somehow or other, to find the needed nickel before the bus ride back.
I carved a walking pole and promptly lost it in Forks.
Besides the above, the only other notable events of this day were that I received an happy message, a dear friend had given birth to a son, and that I had an aloud argument with the late Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose book I was then reading and the theological views of which I took much difference with.
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Wish I could've heard that argument. :)
I just wanted to add in my two cents, so that way you will only be 3 cents short for the bus fare.
Nice photos.
You've got me thinking, and I don't think that I have never owned a custom walking stick longer than a fraction of a day? The older I get, the more likely I think that might be to change.
You will remain in our prayers. I hope that your are eating better fare than that "Man vs. Wild" chap does on his journeys~!
Shalaom
krIs in Oceanside