“I’m still in the tarp. It’s still raining. It’s still windy. Everything’s freezing… still. And now I have to use the restroom. And [I don’t mean] pee.” — The author’s audio journal entry from Jan. 28, 2010
Perhaps the most common
question I receive about my trip is “Where do you sleep?” When I reply, it’s like being an accident on the side of the road with all the rubbernecks watching. With my backpack extending from my
waist to the back of my neck, people already know the answer. Many start grimacing before I even start to respond. But like a lover with solid evidence of a transgression, they just want to hear me say it.
I camp. Out there.
It’s the latter phrase that gets people. While I have stayed with family, friends, and in the occasional hotel, I’ve camped about 80% of the time. In the beginning of the trek, I was a little embarrassed to admit this. I had never camped on roadsides before and wasn’t even entirely sure about the legality of it. I was slow to realize it’s not the legality that people are curious about. It’s mainly the getting eaten or killed.
Animals, weather, other people. These are the fears of my inquiring public. I could also throw in the U.S.-Mexico border, but since it’s another thousand miles to El Paso, I’ll put
that one on hold. I can’t control any of these things living as I am on the road, but then I can’t control them living in a city either. However, I can be smart about them.
If I’m doing my job, you will never see me leave the road in the evening, nor reenter it the next morning. I prefer wooded areas but will make due with what I have. I have seen homemade NO TRESPASSING signs, and I take those and all other kinds very seriously. In some cases, my assessment of a potential risk means having to walk several more miles. I once hiked 16 miles on top of 16 I had already done because I didn’t feel safe.
I’ve also made some adventurous camping decisions, like walking straight into a forecasted ice storm. While not exactly smart, I nonetheless wanted to experience the weather. Did I really come all this way only to sit out the Panhandle fun?
This camping tale is particularly memorable. When I left Quanah, Texas, I was pumped up, fat on food and high on hospitality, and no little ice storm was going to rain me out of a good time. I made it about halfway to Childress and, obeying all of my general camping rules, found a nice spot close to the train tracks and away from the road.
I set up my tarp like an open-ended tent, staked it down, and rolled out my sleeping bag. The day had been bright and sunny, and the nighttime wasn’t all that different. I ate some snacks and went to bed.
It was good sleeping until 2:30 a.m.
I should have known the gig was up when the wind started ripping my stakes out of the ground. I fought that storm about 10 hours for my dry little space, but the winds, rains, and ice all conspired to kick me out. I eventually had to relieve myself, which is a terrible situation to be in while camping in a storm. However, seeing the state of my tarp from the outside was enough to convince me to pack up.
I walked 15 miles to Childress in that storm. When I finally reached a hotel, I was covered in ice.
So, yes, I camp. Out there. Though this icy episode may sound terrible, I was in high spirits the entire time. I’m not kidding. I may have lost my dry little space to the storm, but when I finally took my pack and coat off, the ice shattered and fell to the floor. All that remained was me.
Smatt is the penname of S.Matt Read. A writer, inventor, baker, and hiker, he is currently hiking the entire outline of the state. Follow his adventure here and at and . The perimeter is about 3,000 miles long and has likely never been hiked before. The hike started at Corpus Christi and is going clockwise. It began in August 2009 and is expected to be completed in July 2010.
The Texas Perimeter Hike — Weather Woes
“I’m still in the tarp. It’s still raining. It’s still windy. Everything’s freezing… still. And now I have to use the restroom. And [I don’t mean] pee.” — The author’s audio journal entry from Jan. 28, 2010
Perhaps the most common
question I receive about my trip is “Where do you sleep?” When I reply, it’s like being an accident on the side of the road with all the rubbernecks watching. With my backpack extending from my
waist to the back of my neck, people already know the answer. Many start grimacing before I even start to respond. But like a lover with solid evidence of a transgression, they just want to hear me say it.
I camp. Out there.
Animals, weather, other people. These are the fears of my inquiring public. I could also throw in the U.S.-Mexico border, but since it’s another thousand miles to El Paso, I’ll put
that one on hold. I can’t control any of these things living as I am on the road, but then I can’t control them living in a city either. However, I can be smart about them.
If I’m doing my job, you will never see me leave the road in the evening, nor reenter it the next morning. I prefer wooded areas but will make due with what I have. I have seen homemade NO TRESPASSING signs, and I take those and all other kinds very seriously. In some cases, my assessment of a potential risk means having to walk several more miles. I once hiked 16 miles on top of 16 I had already done because I didn’t feel safe.
I’ve also made some adventurous camping decisions, like walking straight into a forecasted ice storm. While not exactly smart, I nonetheless wanted to experience the weather. Did I really come all this way only to sit out the Panhandle fun?
This camping tale is particularly memorable. When I left Quanah, Texas, I was pumped up, fat on food and high on hospitality, and no little ice storm was going to rain me out of a good time. I made it about halfway to Childress and, obeying all of my general camping rules, found a nice spot close to the train tracks and away from the road.
I set up my tarp like an open-ended tent, staked it down, and rolled out my sleeping bag. The day had been bright and sunny, and the nighttime wasn’t all that different. I ate some snacks and went to bed.
It was good sleeping until 2:30 a.m.
I should have known the gig was up when the wind started ripping my stakes out of the ground. I fought that storm about 10 hours for my dry little space, but the winds, rains, and ice all conspired to kick me out. I eventually had to relieve myself, which is a terrible situation to be in while camping in a storm. However, seeing the state of my tarp from the outside was enough to convince me to pack up.
I walked 15 miles to Childress in that storm. When I finally reached a hotel, I was covered in ice.
So, yes, I camp. Out there. Though this icy episode may sound terrible, I was in high spirits the entire time. I’m not kidding. I may have lost my dry little space to the storm, but when I finally took my pack and coat off, the ice shattered and fell to the floor. All that remained was me.
Smatt is the penname of S.Matt Read. A writer, inventor, baker, and hiker, he is currently hiking the entire outline of the state. Follow his adventure here and at and . The perimeter is about 3,000 miles long and has likely never been hiked before. The hike started at Corpus Christi and is going clockwise. It began in August 2009 and is expected to be completed in July 2010.