The decision to head south was warm in my heart, the swamplands would be the beginning of my ambitions down yonder, along the was way. I had emptied my crudely labeled coffee can full of money and tucked it away safely in the liner of my boot. I decided to travel light, carrying everything in a rucksack and not concerned so much about food and shelter, I'd worry about that when the time came. The only thing that was any concern to me at that point was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey Gary called Navajo Headache that had no label. He always said was for a special occasion, this journey seemed special enough to me, the hell with what he thought about it.