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Riding the Tater Tunnel Trail
I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.
How we started the day in Globe. The big pile is my gear under a poncho. I try to keep my gear dry, be it from dew or downpour. The slanty-looking constuction is where I slept last night. It’s a poncho tied over some sticks and string and my bivy bag. It poured last night but I was cozy dry. Thanks Milton Gragg for putting us up.
Cracker and Brick descending a stretch of Globe Mountain Road that connects Colletsville to Globe.
Look closely and chances are good you’ll spy a tater tunnel like this one behind one of the many abandoned homesteads that line the road. I’ve driven by this one many times without seeing it. I had to clip clop past by mule for it to catch my eye.
This tater tunnel is fronted with stonework.
Metal in the overhead beam that supports the entrance. If I was better with old equipment I could probably tell you what it is.
Cracker ponders what Hobbit-looking beast could come bounding out of this tater tunnel. He is not a fan of the tater tunnel and requires vigorous riding to get even close. Of course I had to climb off my mule for a peek inside.
The sides were sandy, crumbly, the walls green with moss. At a glance, the tunnel shape had an arch-like feel to it, like something you might find in the annex of a cathedral. Or a sand castle.
Close-up of a root feeling its way down the wall. Makes a man feel a lot like a mole.
“Oh hell no!” Cracker said when I invited him inside. Brick wanted to know if found any taters. I informed her, that sadly, I had not.
More on the North Carolina to Idaho ride.
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