(Re written from pilgrimage journal)
My second day of walking was a surprise. The first few steps were painful as I had expected,, then when my body warmed up I really got into the rhythm of walking again.This day had no turns save for a short 180 meter jag at Forest Road. The path was straight and undeviating. It was daunting. Upon reaching Fisher Line I hit a definite wall mentally and physically. However, I was able to push through for another hour and a half of walking before my checkpoint of the day.
There were various points of interest during the walk today. There were two dogs who followed me for a number of kilometers and kept good company while they were alongside me after their initial displeasure at my arrival. Later, they got into a minor scuffle with some other farm dogs and decided to turn around and return home.
The hardest part of the day was the three or four kilometer incline that I had to ascend after passing a sugar beet harvest. Again the physically daunting task loomed over me though I was able to climb up and over this obstacle.
Along the road I passed a crippled bird. I had contemplated various actions including taking it with me to attempt to heal its wing, even the thought of a mercy killing crossed my mind. My indecision as nearly as crippling to me as the birds wing was to it. I decided to go on and leave the bird; after all, I was not meant to intervene with nature on this pilgrimage and I know almost nothing of birds unfortunately.
It seemed almost as if I was being tested with these things I was seeing along my path. The dead dear and the dying bird. Maybe it could be seen as over analysis, but I think they somehow helped me to come to terms with my grandmother's terminal illness and the unrelenting passage of time in nature. The frailty of life.
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