There’s a freakin tornado in my head… And no storm cellar. And I have no idea where it came from. Oh wait, yes I do. Yes. I most definitely do. I generated this tornado…. this man tornado. this land tornado. this thought tornado. this information friggin super-highway. spinning round and round in circles. electrocuting itself. in. my. head. Yeah. And I don’t actually know how to hit pause on this sucker anymore. Which, I think, if I can work it right, is a good thing. Because I think something big is happening. Something real big. I just don’t know exactly what “it” is yet. Tomorrow I will set out on my own from Baton Rouge. Garrett will catch up with me in a couple days time. He has more to do here, and I am itching to hit the road. Itching to make it to Florida on schedule. Itching to find a way to get home that gives us the freedom to retrace our steps. Itching. Body and mind. And I have to scratch. I can’t help myself. “Let there be space in your togetherness”. The temporary separation will no doubt give us a new perspective on this journey, on each other, and on ourselves… and collecting new perspectives is what we do. Today we turned and twisted and wiggled through the canals of the Atchafalaya Basin, the largest swamp in the United States of America. Thanks to the knowledge and leadership of our new friend Bryan who works for The Nature Conservancy, my face actually aches from the smiling. More than once today I found tears welling up in my eyes at the beauty of it all. I mean, for craps sake, I counted no less than ten bald eagles, a bird I’ve never even seen in the wild. For real. And the tornado in my head now contains a fresh load of freshwater management knowledge. Which is overwhelming, right on track, and totally kick ass. the knowledge tornado. processing. over and out.