no signs of crusty punk back packers here, no tin can coffee pots, not meth lab tarped out villagers- really very sweet down here, acres of second growth forest, some Salmon berry, no blazes, and i don't read or carry maps, i just drift
down under the I-90 over pass and boat channel, i found a great bum encampment, with beer bottles, underwear drying on a bush, a bathing suit, and this nesting spot, but you know i didn't see any bum eggs
it looks like it heads straight for that home but they have a tall, razor wire fence-which goes clear out into the water- no swimming bearded beasts,with forty ounce floatation devices
Down at one piece beach, where i've been swimming everyday, there has been some massive fish kill, all these little spiny minnow sized fishes have been washing upon the beach, some are red around the gills, all have very sharp spikes- PunkPike ? (just came back from t-ball, where one of the mom's has informed me that the dead fish are called Sticklebacks, and they all die after breeding or spawning, like little salmon)
all the kids are playing with them, building bowls and dumping thousands in, burying them, throwing them at each other, getting stabbed in the feet, all really disgusting
the crows don't seem to mind- it think they ate a few, found the taste, so-so, but now they've surpassed the expiration date-
i swim out in the deep water so haven't been affected yet, any day now the kids will find me floating upside down, big glassy eyes wide open, to the sun.