Last week didn’t exactly go as planned. I ended up laid out on a damp patch of leaves after my hammock gave way beneath me. The damage was substantial—beyond a quick repair with cord or tape. Lying there, staring up and figuring out how to retrieve my shoes without soaking my feet, I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it.
That night, I improvised a bed inside a haulage container. The following night I switched back to my tent, something I hadn’t used in a while because I’ve been so focused on hammock setups. I had forgotten how good tents really are—reliable, simple, and, importantly, dry. I’ve stuck with the tent this week while I wait to locate my DD Frontline hammock, which has somehow gone walkabout.
Not far from my base area, there’s a woman who sleeps rough under a road bridge. I’ve mentioned her in a previous post. I seldom see her directly because a concrete support divides the area, but it’s clear it’s not the sort of place people linger unless they have to. Anyone hanging around there stands out.
One evening, as I was heading into the field, a car pulled up. A man got out and went under the bridge. That instantly changed my plan—I didn’t want to walk through while he was there, so I decided to wait it out. After a while, I looked toward the underpass, but it was too dark to make out much. Then I saw it—a faint orange glow from a cigarette. That told me he wasn’t going anywhere soon.
Eventually, I decided to just go for it. As I passed through, I greeted him with a quick “good evening” and kept moving. As I crossed the field, I kept glancing back to make sure he wasn’t following or watching. That’s when it clicked—he wasn’t there for me. He was there for the woman. It all made sense.
This wasn’t the first odd encounter by that bridge. On another occasion, a different man was pacing around, pretending to have dropped something, scanning the ground. I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion that this woman may be being taken advantage of because of her situation. It’s gut-wrenching to think about. Life on the streets shouldn’t strip away someone’s safety or dignity, yet for many, it does.
After shaking off those thoughts, I boiled some water for a cup of hot chocolate and a pot noodle. Sitting there, listening to the rain tap against the tent, I realized how stealthy my setup really is. Even with the light on, it blends in unless you’re right on top of it.
Just as I was settling down, I got an unexpected visitor—a bee. It wandered in and started walking toward me. I gently guided it out, only for it to return again a few minutes later. The second time, I carried it a bit further away to make sure it got the message. I did feel bad; the weather had turned cold and wet, and I knew the little guy probably wouldn’t last long. But there’s only so much company you can handle inside a small tent on a rainy night.
