His journal is sprinkled with delightful down-home country humor. Trying to hitchhike for a long time in southern Virginia, he wrote, “I thought I might get a blister on my thumb from waving it in the air.” At Charlie’s Bunion, a mountain in the Smokies with a sheer drop: “I thought if a fellow fell from here he’d have to take his lunch to keep from starving to death before he hit bottom.” On a rainy day in Maine, it was “so foggy the birds were walking.”
