Along the way, have met hundreds of wonderful folks. They want me to stay with them, have dinner and tell me more stories. I would have loved to accepted every one of them. The warm beds and home cooked meals would be a luxury and I do appreciate the offers. My time on the road is limited by distractions including anything outside of my planned activities. I can't second guess my decisions as unexpected events happen. I do believe everything happens for a reason, however, I still cant quite put my finger on the reason for the late night encounter on the prairies of South Dakota.
Let me set the scene...With a low rear tire and a belly full of good coffee, I gathered up my camera, notes and official town historical documents which were given to me by another generous couple in my life. I now know why the town grew and flourished over the years and how it basically died off over a more recent period of time. My ears and mind has absorbed the history of this town, the township and a proud community that holds onto the memories of the town dances, where a very young Lawrence Welk would play a wide assortment of instruments in the second floor of the Hall. The Hall is not nothing more that a pile of twisted planks and the first floor walls lean in every direction but vertically. The trains could have continued bringing tourists and mail to the depot and tons of grain would make the return trip to the east, if only they railroad executives would have listened to the locals who know how to plow through snow drifts between the banks of the hills which had been cut away just enough to allow for a narrow gauge rail system to pass through these man made canyons.
I filled Mozi's rear tire in a heated garage on the back of the only store in Wecota. I believe it was around 8:00PM and less that one hour of riding would place me in the town of Selby. North on country road 11 is not the best choice if one wants to avoid gravel roads. One would not be me on this clear night filled with still cold air. 11 turns to the west on 148th street, putting Mozi's front wheel on the same gravel which earlier in the same day was used by members of the Hutterite community dairy farm. I did not discover who the Hutterites were until a few days later. My interests are magnified now with the dedication of their beliefs and sense of community which we could only wish to capture in our lives.
I stopped in front of their massive silo compound around 4:30 as I attempted to find a spot on Google Map labeled as Freedom Township, SD. Cows, cows and more cows, all staring at me, of perhaps at Mozi. No matter, because we wouldn't be there long. You could see several barns and a housing complex built with block walls and concrete slabs. Clothes lines were filled with gray and white clothes. There may have been blue items hanging in the breeze, but what I noticed immediately was a group of women in long simple dresses and bonnets who were walking along the back of the housing complex. They all waved to me, a perfect or not so perfect stranger on a black motorcycle. What were they thinking of me? I do wonder what image I am creating on the road. A semi-tractor trailer was barrelling down the road from the west with a huge cloud of dust following behind his oversize load of hay rolls. He stopped in the road as a massive front-end loader met his load with forks to off-load the bovine food and place it in the barn with the hundreds if not thousands of other tightly packaged grass bails. This man appeared to be in his mid 30's and smiled as he asked me if I were lost.
I tapped on my gas tank and answered, "As long as I have gasoline, I am not totally lost." We talked for a few minutes and before he told me where Freedom Township was and more importantly, what a township was, he asked me where I was staying for the night and where I was going to have dinner.
"Stay with us and let us feed you." His offer was tempting to me. I knew I would be passing by this farm again after I explore the target on my map. I could always come back and accept the offer with these people who appeared to be Amish with tractors and trucks. I was confused, but might eventually be sitting at a table to break bread and taste a side of beef with an interesting group.
It was now 8:15PM and a few lights cast their beams onto the curtains of the housing complex. Remember me telling you everything happens for a reason and I am not to second guess my decisions? I did second guess my decision at this moment. OK, I know I could have stayed in Wecota. I could have spent more time talking with my hosts about this town, the kids who have moved to the big cities and the older folks who wouldn't leave if you paid them. I could have spend the next day writing and editing photos. I could have perhaps convinced someone to do a video interview about Freedom. Then, I could have visited this huge dairy farm I am riding by on this cold night and been invited once more to dine with the hard working people. I could have spent the night. Surely, there would have been a prayer time. I do question my religious beliefs from time to time. Looking back, I now know I may have experienced a wonderful fellowship with total strangers.
Mozi and I rode on into the night and soon we turned north onto
Somewhere on County Road 6, I finally discovered a place on this Earth which is void of all artificial lighting. A trillion stars extending from the horizon on all directions was more realistic than any planetarium could offer. The Milky Way was thicker than the heavy cream in my cup of coffee. Coffee? Did I mention I had a large Styrofoam cup filled with coffee and carefully secured onto the back of my windshield with three bungee cords? Well, I did, and this moment seems like the perfect time to enjoy it. Stars formed more constellations than I could remember from Boy Scouts. I knew a few. Of course, the Big Dipper was so obvious. It was huge! I put the coffee back in it's window pocket and pulled out my Nikon 12.3 MP camera with the standard 18-55mm lens. As soon as I peered through the viewfinder, I realized this vision would only be saved in my own memory. I couldn't fit it all into the camera aperture. Camera goes back into the tank bag. My coffee cup was placed against my lips once more.
I knew at that moment that I should just set up my tent here, on the grassy prairie of South Dakota and spend the remaining hours of this night under a blanket of stars and the sheer fabric of the tent without the rain cover to block my eyes from this spectacle. OK, a passing car of truck would be unlikely and even if they passed my way, it would be short-lived and again, I would enjoy this canopy of stellar beams. Just a moment more and the coffee will be about half full. I know, you are thinking I mean half empty... I am a "Glass-half-full" kind of person. It all happened so fast. The beast ran, not walked,
I suddenly realized I had been in total silence for the last few minutes. The silence was disturbed by the sound of grasses being brushed by something a few feet away from me and coming closer. All I could think of was Skunk. Ken, maybe it will just pass by. Yeah, it is just crossing the road, right? Wrong! Just then, something brushed against my right leg and I instinctly kicked it. I mean, I kicked hard enough to send this varmint a few yards away from me and allow Mozi to spring into action before the marsupial in question could venture back to within spraying distances. It all happened so fast. I dropped my coffee when I hear the grasses rustling again and my ears traced the movement from about 12 feet away on a clear path to the immediate location of my right leg again. A growling was not expected and neither was the instant tugging and jerking action on my Levi's. Imagine, if you can, someone grabbing your right leg with a bear trap that doesn't quite grasp your flesh. Then, they yank on the trap over and over and some Steven Speilberg audio file is played in stereo across these non-familiar surroundings. You are all alone around 9:00PM and without even reaching in your pocket, you can imagine you have zero bars on your cell phone. No flare gun. No gun at all. At this moment, I am trying to keep from losing my balance. My mind drifts back to August in Wellfleet as my wife and father-in-law bombard me with questions that now have more meaning that at that moment. "So Ken, are you going to be Packing on this trip?"
"Packing?" I asked.
"You know, carrying a piece. Glock. You should take a Glock 19!"
My wife looked at me and immediately asked if I was taking a gun. "No! Your dad brought this up. Not me."
OK, back on the side of County Road 6...My leg is not being ripped to shreds, but my nerves are deteriorating by the moment. I leaned over onto my right leg to place more weight on it, causing my foothold a more secure stance and giving me time to search through all of my motorcycle jacket pockets to find the LED flashlight with normally serves the purpose of seeing how much gas is in my tank when I stop at night.
I found it and clicked the button on it. Artificial light would soon be showcasing this mini-beast. As I flipped the light from my left hand to my right and aimed it down at the endangered leg, I spotted a Badger. Coincidentally, the badger was the mystery varmint. A Glock 19 with a clip filled with 9mm bullets would be a welcome firearm at this moment. Why couldn't I be wearing dress slacks tonight? Walmart Cargo Pants might come equipped with easy-tear legs. Anything but the tough fabric and double stitching of the Levi's I wear. The thoughts in my mind were to many to sort at the time. I could think about this later. Sure, I may even be able to laugh about this later in life. Life? Seemed so questionable on this night. For about six years, I have owned a pocket knife with a 2.5" blade and a smaller blade which has always been useful as a screwdriver. Yeah, I could imaging attempting to fight off the beast with that knife.
When I was in the Catskill Mountains, I spend three days at the Blackthorn Resort for a bikers' Rally. It was a great time. From it, I took away many fond memories, hundreds of photos, and a multi tool that I found in the roadway after everyone else had departed on that Monday. A multi-tool that has pliers, an assortment of screwdrivers and a large knife blade. Keeping the LED beam of light on the badger was my highest priority. My second objective was to recall the location of my multi-tool which would ultimately be used to pursued the badger to let go of my leg and be on his way. I found the knife blade in the Gerber tool and never hesitated opening it up and locking the blade into place for repeated action. Realizing the knee-high monster was capable of attacking the hand that stabs it, I reached around behind me to retrieve my snow gloves from the sleeping bag sack. I slid my fingers deep into the recesses of the only protective clothing I had for my defensive hand. I checked again to assure the blade was locked and positioned in my right hand and took the mini-flashlight from between my teeth and into my left hand. Spot and stab. Spot and stab. I repeated this ritual with a sadness and with a brutal self-saving force. I cannot recall how many times I thrust the blade towards the living bear trap, but he soon ran away, screaming for a short time, but soon the silence of the prairie was only stained with the pounding of my heart.
My decision was to get away from that location immediately and to find a hotel with a hot shower and a warm, soft bed. Camping under a blanket of stars seemed like a passing fancy. The great outdoors are so over-rated. Why am I carrying a tent at all? Seriously, a sleeping bag and air mattress?
The Levi's were tossed away in the hotel trash can. My glove was soaked on the sink overnight to remove any evidence of blood. As for the knife? The multi-tool which was never designed to do what it was able to on that night, has been named "Badger Whisperer".
Mozi on...
No comments:
Post a Comment