Trout Tonight

The pelicans flock together in the afternoons over the trees on the shore. They catch the thermals, floating high and slowly, then dropping quickly into another pattern, drifting in circles, but lazily going south. They turn to an angle that makes them seem invisible, then they turn again and we see their backs. somewhere in all that chaos, there is some natural order.

Our contacts in Baton Rouge have fallen through. We couldn't quite find the AJ we had in St. Paul or the Brett we had in St. Louis. And so, we worked hard for a few days in towns trying to organize something ourselves, seeking bands and venues, trying to combine them, and ultimately coming up with nothing. Instead of having a festival-type event like in St. Paul, we'll stop in Baton Rouge and dedicate a day to generating interest, possibly busking, and selling shirts. It should be LSU homecoming then (which is why many venues lacked interest) and many people will be in town for their alma mater's events. We also have a good friend in Milwaukee setting up an event for the week before Christmas. All of we who are moving out to Steamboat Springs after the River migration will also continue hosting events until we reach our ultimate goal of $50,000.

Tonight, after 35 miles through the mist, we have nine trout cooking over the fire. They're the same trout Eric gave us in Memphis. Tomorrow night, we'll cook up some of his venison. We have been eating well and it only gets better. Our mothers can rest easy, knowing that we have been soaking in all sorts of good nutrients.

The instruments are out again. Oscar is on ukulele, Brett on Mandolin, and Dave on guitar. Zach calculates the mileage for the next few days, which surely won't hold up more than an hour into tomorrow, due to our indecisive and capricious mentality. Amanda quietly prepares a side dish- something that will turn out to be one of the best things we've ever eaten, as usual. Louis listens attentively to the sizzle of the trout, checking them often and nibbling off the bellies. Dipper warms her feet next to the fire, careful not to burn through her Crocs, like she did last night. The sun will set soon, but we can't tell by the vibrant colors we've had for the past three weeks. Instead, the grey just becomes darker grey. Soon enough, our hunger will be satisfied and we'll be warm again in our sleeping bags.