Smell Those Yummy Humans

Days Walking - 57

There was something new last night -
The Heady Palpable Fear of Wolves Howling, echoing, mocking us. You can't really pin down where it's coming from, or how far away they are. You're cringing in the shelter, and you can swear it's getting closer. It was freaking scary. There wasn't even a full moon. What are they discussing out there?

'Hey, Larry - do you smell those yummy humans?'

'Yeah, Frank - let's go eat a couple, no one will miss them.'

'Let's spook em for a night or two - I like my meat freaked out'

'Aww yeah' Licking chops in anticipation.

(Eeeep!)

The sun doesn't set until around 9:50PM - we get a pretty decent increase in daylight now - like 4 minutes more per day. Yay, Spring. The temp sure hasn't improved much, but we'll take all the daylight we can get. More daylight means we can sleep in a bit later and still put in a respectable amount of hiking each day.

As you know, we're hiking along side The Dalton Highway, but we usually stay off the road to avoid getting squished.

Usually.

But every day, about two hours before sunset, is something we call Golden Hour. I don't know how the truck's departure schedule works from Deadhorse, but about eight o'clock the number of trucks heading southbound dwindles to none - for about an hour.

This means that we can freely use the southbound lanes with near impunity (we still keep a lookout) and make some really good time for that hour.

We are a silly, silly group of people - I am so blessed that they are as goofy or more so than I am - but you should hear us whooping and cheering as we zip along on the road. We have to invent our own entertainment, and an hour with no trucks before we have to make camp is pretty damned entertaining.

Speaking of making camp, one of our shelter moldforms crapped out. The moldforms are one of the prototype designs that Gabe is testing.

Well Design Peoples, we can tell you that they worked pretty well for fifty-six days, but their weakness is the inflatable bladders. Just like any inflatable device, it's just a matter of time before the inevitable, unrepairable leaks ruin the item. (Adrian mentioned the original Reebok Pump basketball shoe?)

We've tried to upkeep the moldforms, but patching leaks in the freakin cold is difficult. Anyone who's patched a bicycle tire can tell you that smearing that epoxy stuff is a pain. Well any chemical hardening agent is gonna be impaired by low temperatures, neh?

I'm gonna make sure Gabe recommends that the designers add that liquid goo inside the bladders, like the newer self-healing bike tires have. Though cold temps would probably be a problem there too.

People just aren't meant to live in the cold, I tells ya! So now we're down to one functional moldform, and it's gonna take longer to set up camp. Which means we'll have to stop hiking earlier, so that cuts into Golden Hour. And we might decide to go back to three shelters instead of four, meaning we'll have to go back to three people in two shelters, and two in the third. We'll rotate, but Ugh.

Kwame's sister Janet has been scheduled for a court marshal hearing. It seems they like to bust your ass down to Private, then kick you out or imprison you. Nice. Do not mess with the Military, I mean yikes. I feel sorry for this woman - at the least, a dishonorable discharge is gonna follow her for the rest of her life.

In other news, I had a sexy dream about Adrian last night. We were in the food court at Del Amo Mall, waiting to get a lemonade from Corn Dog on a Stick. I was dressed in a prom dress and Adrian was wearing shorts, flip-flops, and had a surfboard.

He was standing behind me in line, nuzzling my neck and earlobe so softly, sweetly, and suggestively. He was whispering naughty position proposals that I giggled at, oh I could never... And then it segued into job interview. He was wearing a suit and I still had the prom dress on, and he was asking which programming languages I was proficient in. Um...None?

Litany Webb, signing off

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