Travel by Mule
I rode the mules over the hill and there she stood on the bridge holding a fishing rod. She and the star tattoos on her shoulders and a man and a boy drowning small worms on big hooks in a shallow creek.
I asked, “are you catching anything?”
She said, “he caught one” and pointed to her son.
Then she said, “I really want to catch… Continue reading
When the Missouri River floods, all that stands between Meredosia, Illinois and the river is a mound of dirt and a pile of prayers. That and the round-the-clock efforts of everyone from sand bag-filling inmates to town employees and community members.
This week I’m pondering all the Fireball whisky bottles the mules and I are encountering on Indiana’s roadsides.
Traveling America’s back roads by mule lets me absorb life at 3 miles per hour. How the bottom of a hill is cooler than the top. How… Continue reading
I was camped at Big Spring Cemetery wondering what the mules would eat for supper. It was going to be lentils and watercress from a nearby spring for me. For them it looked like it was going to just be grass. Grain is just too heavy to carry.
I strolled over to the spring and picked a mess of cress. When I got back… Continue reading
Yee ha! The mule and I have arrived in Illinois.
Illinois is the third state that claims Abraham Lincoln. He was born in Kentucky but didn’t live there long enough to get on too many road signs. He spent time in Indiana where he got a mention on the state line. But the Illinois Lincoln Marketing Board was smart enough to step up and just claim him. They branded… Continue reading
It seems odd that a guy traveling across the land with his mules would need to buy gas. Sorta seems to defeat the whole reason to travel with a vehicle that gets most of its fuel from grass.
But, about twice a month, I’ll ease in to a gas station. Tie my mules up next to the gas pump.… Continue reading
“What are you doing about the storms and tornadoes?”, folks ask me.
It’s been an active summer tornado season with twisters getting lots of press as they destroy homes and communities.
I tell them, “nothing”.
When the closest shelter is a telephone pole, your options are limited.
To get ready for my mule ramble, I looked at a lot of maps – from Google maps to topo maps to hand drawn sketches. They’re fine for giving you a general idea of what direction you need to go. But to see the water run under the bridges, and feel the whoosh of a semi roaring, well, you just gotta physically be there.
It looks different on a map than it looks on a mule. Join mules Brick and… Continue reading
I hope you have a good Sunday. I thought you’d enjoy this photo of Cracker starting his day. Yes, the sky really was that vivid.
He’s pretty chill about dawn’s early light but intense skies like this freak out the mariner in me. It’s that “red skies at morning, sailor take warning” thing. Sure enough, it rained like bejusus-crazy-hell for the next three days with tornadoes thrown in for good… Continue reading
Taking a lunch break with my mules at Stephenson’s General Store in Leavenworth, Indiana, I was reminded of one of my favorite books, “Shanty Boat” by Harlan Hubbard. The book is the account of Harlan’s 7 year journey down the Ohio and MIssissippi Rivers in his shanty boat. Accompanying Harlan were his wife Anna, a few dogs and occasionally, a hive of bees.