Epilogue

In Jim's words....

Epilogue, Spring 2011 Hike

While they are still fresh in mind, here are a few random thoughts and reflections about this latest trip of mine.

First of all, thanks to all of you who have followed my adventures by reading Jane's journals. I have spent some time today - my first full day since returning home - reading the emails and blog posts Jane wrote and distributed while I was traversing 400 miles of roads through northwestern ND and northeastern MT. As many of you have pointed out in your emails to her, she does a super job of reporting my daily adventures and experiences. Your words of encouragement, best wishes, and prayers have truly been appreciated by both of us. And special thanks to those of you who sent me notes and letters I picked up at the post offices along the way. In these days of email communication, it was refreshingly quaint (retro?) to receive your hand-written cards and letters.

As you know by now, this leg of the cross-country hike was beset by a number of unexpected and unwanted developments. Gear failure is always a risk, especially when traveling in areas without re-supply opportunities. I had never previously had my trusty stove fail or have my fuel canister confiscated by the air-travel police, but it happened. Losing a hiking shoe that was dangling from the outside of the backpack was sheer bad luck, though it did lighten the load by a couple of pounds. The gravel roads did a job on the soles of my sandals, wearing them out far earlier than expected, but a backup pair was purchased thanks to a 50-mile round trip visit to the nearest Walmart. Bugs are a not uncommon part of these hikes - I will never forget the flies and mosquitoes in the Adirondacks and the gypsy moth caterpillars and slugs that bedeviled me in New York. Fortunately the mosquitoes and gnats that pestered me on this trip didn't hit until the last few days.

A particular challenge on this leg was the unavailability of motel rooms for an 11-day stretch in the mid-section of this hike. I depend on motels for rest, cleanup, and shelter from the elements, so not having them for half the trip was a great inconvenience. And the need to get off the road for reasons of personal safety while passing through the reservation presented a unique challenge. Sharing the roads with huge oil tankers and road construction trucks, many hundreds of them each day for 11 days, was a most unpleasant and unsafe experience, and breathing their fumes and dusty wakes certainly wasn't healthy.

But enough about the downside aspects of this trip. How about the good parts? As usual, some of the most memorable and remarkable parts are the people I met along the way, many of whom provided me with unrewarded favors when I was in need of them. Like Roy and Krista, the newlyweds who insisted on driving me 50 miles round trip to Williston so I could buy a backup pair of sandals to replace my pair that was falling apart. And Raydelle, the town clerk in Culbertson, who found me a tenting site and the use of a church hall for my overnight needs in the next two towns. And the town clerk in Fairview who arranged for me to use that town's pool facility for rest room and showers even during hours when they were otherwise closed. And Father Francis and Father Jolly, who unlocked their churches and parish halls so I could safely stay there overnight as I passed through....and permitted me to borrow their phones so I could call Jane when I had no service on my phone. Likewise, I borrowed phones from the convenience store lady in Brockton and Tracy, the owner of the bar in Nashua, and one of her patrons. And what a bowl of soup Tracy gave me!

In addition to the random acts of kindness rendered by all these people, I was the beneficiary of some amazing good luck or, as Jane and I choose to believe, blessings from God. Going into this trip, I was concerned about the availability of water in some of the more remote locations. Sure enough, most ponds and streams were inaccessible, cut off by the ubiquitous barbed wire fencing that bordered the road nearly everywhere. One day when I sorely needed liquids near the end of a hot 25-mile day, what do I find along the road but a bottle of water, as though placed there for my use. And on another day, while looking for a source of water and seeing none, I find a case of soft drinks, still cold, that must have fallen off a passing vehicle.

I was remarkably lucky with the weather. It rained at least half of the days, but mostly at night or in the afternoon after I had already erected my tent or gotten under a roof. Only once did I get really wet and have to endure dirty showers from passing trucks. And that night I was picked up by Jane and we drove to a motel. As expected, the early days of the hike in late May were often quite cool, even cold overnight, and some days in the last two weeks were uncomfortably warm, but on balance temperature was not a problem. But the wind was, with
sustained winds of 30-50 mph on several days. As luck would have it, some of those days they were tailwinds, and on one day I was off-road resting in my tent to stay warm and recuperate. With so much ambient energy there for the harnessing, I was surprised to see wind turbines only once in the distance. Unfortunately it was obvious that in this region oil and gas drilling is trumping the erection of new clean energy infrastructure.

As usual, I enjoyed observing a variety of wildlife along the way. Unfortunately, not all of it was still alive. I saw a half dozen pheasants, richly patterned and colored creatures that favor the grassy habitats of the Plains states. All were recent victims of bird-vehicle collisions. Not a single living pheasant did I see. Flattened carcasses of large snakes were seen from time to time; fortunately none were observed slithering in my direction. Blackbirds (red-winged and otherwise) were regular companions as I hiked the highways, often flying overhead, circling me, all the while talking a blue streak. Judging from their presence alongside the roads, deer are quite common in this area, but on only a few days did I see one in person. Jane well described the one that took umbrage at my presence in camp one night and loudly expressed her displeasure. Ducks were everywhere, enjoying the abundance of water above ground.

I missed the colorful wildflowers that I typically see on my spring hikes. The fields and prairies were full of them in Wisconsin and Minnesota, but not along the byways of North Dakota and Montana. Only in the last several days did I observe a type of wild sunflower, phototropically bent eastward to catch the morning sun's rays.

One of the highlights of this trip was my visit to Fort Union, site of an important mid-19th century fur trading outpost on the upper Missouri River. Countless numbers of beaver pelts and buffalo robes were traded here by the Indians for manufactured goods when the original Fort Union was here 1828-1867. John Jacob Astor's American Fur Company made a fortune on this trade before it sold the facility to the U.S. Government at the end of that period. The government tore it down and used the wood to build Fort Buford, a military facility several miles downriver. Fort Union was built on a bluff high above the adjacent Missouri River. I observed the river lapping at the road leading into the Fort and staff were filling sandbags to keep it from flooding that road. Today Fort Union has been fully restored to its original elegance, and the National Park Service does an excellent job of staffing it with knowledgeable park rangers eager to explain its historical significance.

Another National Park Service historic site is the Knife River Indian Villages. Located adjacent to a major tributary of the Missouri River, this was the home to hundreds of members of the Hidatsa tribe in the early 19th Century and back many centuries before then. The Lewis and Clark expedition visited here on both their westward trip in 1804 and their return trip the next year. Sacagawea joined the Corps of Discovery here and became their guide and translator. I enjoyed a brief film about the historic significance of the site and what historians and archaeologists have learned about the local Indian culture. Unfortunately most of the Hidatsa and Mandan tribal population was decimated by smallpox epidemics in the mid-19th century.

It has been an extremely wet year for the region I traversed on this trip. The Missouri River and most of its tributaries are over their banks, flooding the river valleys. I saw thousands of acres of rich farmland under water. Dams built to control large sections of the Missouri are full to capacity, forcing them to release water downstream, causing flooding there. Sections of Bismarck are underwater, with hundreds of National Guard troops patrolling the streets now closed to traffic. Thousands of volunteers are busy filling sandbags. It was a heavy snow winter in the Rockies and most of the snow-melt still hasn't happened, so additional flooding is expected well into the summer months. Between the flooding and an extremely high water table, much of the farmland is too wet to plant, so this year could be a tough one for many farmers.

Over the four weeks of this hike, I passed through a landscape that was a mix of open prairie, cattle ranches, and farmland. Some days I marveled at the unusual terrain I was walking past, with hills that dropped precipitously to the roadside. Landslides would throw piles of rock and soil onto the road in places. One day I walked through the Badlands, an incredible section of landscape reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, with striated horizontal bands of clay, sandstone, lignite coal and pink scoria (as described by signs along the road). Trees are rare in this area, and forests non-existent. Virtually all this land is separated from the road by mile after mile of barbed wire fencing. Agriculture - farming and cattle ranching - appears to be the principal occupation, with little or no manufacturing evident, even in the towns. Oil drilling is rampant, with new wells and roads to them being set up all over the place. Thousands of workers are flocking to this region from all over the country, to help drill the wells and drive the well-pipe flatbeds and oil tanker trucks. The standard wage is $20 per hour and $30 for overtime. Sundays and holidays are just another workday, judging from the volume of traffic on the roads. Housing is scarce and acres of RV parks and trailers are being set up to accommodate the incoming labor force. While the farmers, ranchers and oil field workers may be doing well financially, there is a disturbing amount of rural poverty evident in the small towns I walked through. This is especially true of Poplar, Brockton, and Frazer, Montana towns of a few hundred people on the Fort Peck Indian Reservation, where the residents are predominantly descendants of the Assiniboine and Sioux Native American tribes. Houses are small and many poorly maintained; same is true for the cars in their yards. I never had a problem with the occasional interaction I had with these folks but I did avoid the local bars in these towns.

As you know from Jane's journals, I spent my nights mainly in town parks, where invariably I was welcome to set up my tent for the night. Some of these I had scouted out in advance of the trip, others I came upon unexpectedly. Most parks had the basics: a source of water, a restroom facility, picnic tables and electricity for recharging my phone and e-reader. Some had hot water, some a shower. Only once, in a campground near the Badlands, did I lack running water and have to fill my water supply from a large and apparently clean puddle. Providing a park for itinerant hikers and bikers seems to be a custom in this region, in contrast to my experience in other states.

I walked over 100 miles on Route 2 in northeast Montana, and will be continuing on this road for another 500 miles later this year and next. It is the west-east route of choice, for both vehicles and those of us using leg-power. I met a number of bikers (pedal-powered, not motor-powered) on this road and they invariably stopped for conversation. In Wolf Point I met Michael, who was pulling his dog on a wagon and preaching the bible 3 1/2 years into his circumnavigation of the country. Several days later I met Mike, who was cycling from Seattle to Milwaukee, and will then head south to Kentucky. The Smith brothers (www.smithbrosbiketrip.wordpress.com) came from Tacoma and are headed to Vermont. For me it is uplifting to meet these fellow road warriors, all of whom are benefiting from the kindness of strangers as they cross this country.

In the category of what I didn't tell Jane: In Montana I walked past dozens of simple white crosses a few feet off the road. Each one commemorates the death of someone who died in a traffic accident. The American Legion erects these to encourage motorists to drive safely. What a great idea! Traffic moves pretty fast on Route 2 - while the speed limit is 65, most cars and trucks are going faster than that. I seldom felt threatened, except when a car going west (behind me) would pass another car and come uncomfortably close to me on the shoulder. Several of those came within a foot or two of me, honking as they passed. It would not have taken much of an error of judgement for me to become a white cross memorial. Thank you all who prayed for my safety on this trip.

As you know from her journal, Jane came to meet me on Day 10 of this trip, and we spent two wonderful days together in Dickinson - 30 miles off my hike route, the closest we could find a motel room. This was an extravagance, but well worth the expense of her time and our money. Speaking of expense, what do you think my hike costs on a "per mile" basis? We toted it up today and figured that if we exclude her Dickinson trip and the cost of my gear (tent,stove, shoes, sandals, etc.) it comes to about $6 per mile. And this is on a trip with relatively few motel nights. About half of that is for plane and train, the rest for motels and food.

Last year, the 2010 Spring hike, I asked you to pledge pennies per mile to support the NY-NJ Trail Conference. We raised $5,000 from your pledges - thank you. The last two hikes have been pledge-free, but I think I will seek your support for the next one. Stay tuned.

I have missed nearly four weeks of news and stock market reports, but from what I can tell, not much occurred while I was out there walking the roads. I still have hundreds of emails to read, both here at home and at the office. That will keep me busy for the next several days. The most important thing I have missed is an incredible streak of success for the Red Sox - they have won 12 of the last 13 games. I wore my red, white and blue Red Sox cap for much of the trip. If their winning streak ends now, I will just have to take to the road again.

Planning this last trip took a long time - perhaps 100 hours. I now have less than three months to plan the next one, which will begin on September 12 or 13. At least the route is known: Route 2 west from Glasgow to some town a little east of Glacier National Park. If any of you know someone who lives in that part of Montana, let me know.

Thanks to all of you who make this venture possible: Scott, Cindy and Serge at the office, Jane at home, and all the rest of you who vicariously live this adventure with us. Your love and encouragement is greatly appreciated.