167.
Was that Japanese monk I met so long ago--who was finishing his earthprobe in Honolulu--ever offered this kind of a deal for a detour?
Probably so.
I suppose this is one of those temptations proposed to the traveler in every fairy tale journey—even though this yarn you are reading, I guarantee, is no fairy tale.
~~~~~~
The next day the Australian drives me to the campsite he told me about.
15 kilometers from Beirut, he turns off the main highway onto a paved country road that winds through the empty hills to the edge of a deep green canyon.
We park among some olive trees near a little roadside store and hike down a path to the canon bottom.
There is a shallow cave with a sandy floor beside a small stream almost hidden by trees. A perfect backpacker's camping place.
The Australian wishes me farewell and a good journey--and I am left alone.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment