Its a surreal camp morning. We are in the outdoor groove. Shitting in the woods is as real as it gets. No water coming to rush your waste away from you, it’s there and one is forced to acknowledge that being human is being an animal. Coffee for function, oatmeal for form. We deliriously trick it out into levels unknown before now. Laughing for no real reason as Damon decides to break up a cliff bar on top of his. He is the Elon Musk of oatmeals, innovating our way into advanced means of fueling our bodies.

Holy humidity. We ain’t far from swamp country. That was quick, it seems like we were just in canyon desert. Now it’s hot and humid and sticky. There’s bodies of water and bugs. Purple blossom and wildflowers are starting to bloom.

The hills are flattening out; the chip seal and headwinds are really getting to me. It’s been over a week straight with this crappy combination being our reality about 75% of the time. In my mind, it’ll all end at the Louisiana border. But that’s not true. I stop in a place called Honey Island. Sounds like a reality show that I don’t wanna end up on, so I keep my shirt on and push onward.

Asphalt! Yes!! Fuck. They do the majority shoulder in rumble strip thing. This shit is the worst. Well, fuck it. I’m taking the lane; it feels as smooth as baby butt. With storms coming in the forecast, we have designs on a 90 mile a day.

Butt.

Those designs go directly down the toilet with the headwinds directly on our face. And the humidity. And most of the road condition. It’s debilitating and painful. It really sucks. My arms hurt. My legs hurt. We decide to cut the planned long day a bit shorter and Damon hooks up a cheap motel here in Kountze, Texas. Hopefully we can get out of of this massive state tomorrow. Hopefully.