The first day‑sleep after a night shift always hits the hardest, and the cold made it sharper—morning frost on the edges, air thin and biting.
No lingering: found two trees, built a small nest, and got the hammock setup done fast.
First time setting this hammock up in real cold; compared to the other one it needed less fiddling, apart from the little add‑ons that make it mine.
It was chosen for what mattered today—quick setup and a larger sleeping space to stretch and settle.
Once everything was in place, there was no drifting off; the lights just went out. Passed out.
On the way in, there was a new neighbour: a woman under the bridge with a large square box for bedding, the bridge itself her only roof, the river a few feet away.
Another neighbour too—someone stealthing a night in a car where the parking was quiet.
It’s hard to square a country that boasts about being the sixth richest with what was in front of me—someone under a bridge with a box of bedding and another sleeping in a car; nobody should have to live like this, and in moments like this freedom feels like a myth.
The hammock did its job—fast to hang, roomy enough to breathe, warm enough to ride out the chill—while the daytime world kept moving past.
Sleep took what it needed, frost or no frost, and the river kept going under the bridge for all of us.
woow amazing