I am sitting cross-legged on the floor of Rothrock as Jake consolidates three weeks of camping food (salted nuts, Ramen packets, dried fruit and the like) into gallon Ziploc bags, as he laminates his various maps and as we make a birthday phone call to his dear Padre prior to the great morning voyage that awaits.
In twelve hours Jake and Uncle Jeff will put onto the Juniata which will become the Susquehanna which will become the Chesapeake, and they will finally fulfill the trip of which there has been much dreaming– to paddle from the back door of Rothrock to the back door of his parents’ house, on the Bay. Walking in the cool train sounds river air tonight, Jake said he decided to do this trip before he even decided to go to Juniata, after examining a map of the waterways connecting his childhood home and the town that would eventually keep him.
I will be brief for now because it grows late and we must rise early, before dawn, to eat eggs and say goodbye. But I will keep interested parties apprised of the travelers’ movements as they snake farther south towards the dog who smiles and the cat who stares.
Love to all.