slow travel
Drying Out
Surely as we walk toward the setting sun, the land is drying out.
The mid-West flooded this spring but now the rain has stopped. The mud is drying and cracking. Cracking like alligator skin under our hoofs and boots.
It’s drying out in Nebraska.… Continue reading
Salt
Summer in western Nebraska. The mules are sweating and I’m sweating and we’re all craving salt. If I drank coffee in the morning I’d pour it in to that but I don’t so I douse my lentils and rice with the white stuff.
Bridge and Another Man’s Horse
Recently I picked up a stray. Crossing an old wood bridge, I heard an extra pair of clip clops on the wood decking. I looked back. And saw a horse.
Turns out the horse had slipped through an open gate and fallen in to line behind us. I walked the mules back across the bridge, toward where the horse had come from, hoping to lure the horse back home.
The horse followed obediently.… Continue reading
Ranch Rodeo Saturday Night
Until last week, I’d never heard of a ranch rodeo. I’d been to plenty of regular rodeos. But what was a ranch rodeo?
Ranch rodeo is a team event based on skills a working cowboy would need. Each team has 4 members.… Continue reading
Trouble in a Leather Sack
Let me state for the record that I am not a cowboy. I can not throw a rope. I can not brand a cow. I don’t own a 10 gallon hat. I do know that “trouble in a leather sack” means “cow” in the Sand Hills. Seth Adam told me so.
Serendipity Lodging
It was time to see my wife Julia. The mules and I have been on the road for 4 months, traveling from North Carolina toward Idaho.
Julia and I decided the Sand Hills of Nebraska would be a great place for her to fly out and meet me. She booked a plane ticket and a rental car. She didn’t click on that “Add a Room to Your Ticket” option.
She… Continue reading
She Tracked me Down
I married Julia in February. By April I was gone. 4 months later she found me.
Sober and Seeking Mule
He leaned out his pickup window and said, “I’ve been sober 2 years now. I bought this pickup for $200 but I want a mule.”
But mule ownership had eluded him. He said, “the people in this town don’t want me to have a mule. I don’t know why.”
I told him I couldn’t understand either because I’d just slept in his town with my mules and it seemed to make everyone happy.
“You’ve got it lucky,” he said, “because… Continue reading
Shovel and Top Hat
The mules and I camp on a lot of people’s lawns. What to do about the manure? Out here in the Sand Hills of Nebraska, mule manure on a lawn is dispensed with a boot kick. Or, as I recently did, with an old shovel.
Hyannis at Last
Three weeks ago I arrived in Plattsmouth, Nebraska. I set my sights on Hyannis, 350 miles to the west. Yesterday Brick and Cracker and strode in to the town I was aiming for.
Hyannis is deep in the Sand Hills of Nebraska. The past week, I’ve been traveling… Continue reading
Anselmo Early Morning Start
Mornings, I try to be on the road with the mules by dawn. If I’m traveling a quiet highway, I’m often in the saddle half an hour before dawn.
This can be relaxing. Riding through the still night air, often the only thing that interrupts the clip clop… Continue reading
The Rub: Shoulda Taken a Day Off
I shouldn’t have saddled Brick the day I saw the bump on her back. But I did and she carried her pack saddle 20 miles that day. When I unsaddled her, I saw the newly balded spot on her back. Shame on me.
In an ideal world, I should have given Brick a few days vacation when I first saw the bump on her back. It had just… Continue reading
Greetings from Mountain Time
What used to be 10p is now 9p. We’ve fallen back an hour, like losing Daylight Savings Time. The mules Brick and Cracker and I have entered Mountain Time Zone.
Today (August 2) the mules get a well deserved day off – along with grain and a double dose of carrots. Tomorrow we head toward Whitman.
Junk Heap Mule Browse and the Fair Ground
Today a guy asked me, “why do you like mules?” I told him, “because they eat and drink less than a horse and they’re tougher.” What I really wish I could have shown him was Cracker teasing a grass snack from between some junk tires and batteries.
Aerial Burial
The yellow body on the bridge caught my eyes and I pulled the mules to a halt. A yellow warbler dead on the cement. I scooped it up in my gloved hand. I could do better.
Dying on a bridge is a lonely way to go. No rotting away gently in the… Continue reading
