Day Eighty-Two, Waves

I had a lovely campsite last night, up and over a hill. It took a little doing to climb up there. I had to wade through the snakes. But once established I had a view of miles of praire, but no one could see me at all. No one but the cows, but they were respectful and penned up behind a fence. Otherwise they'd be all over me. I am a hero to cows.

Seriously. They're mad about me. I've never experienced such blind adoration. When I walk by they stop what they're doing and waggle their ears at me. Sometimes their pups just go on eating. That makes their mothers cross. "Hey," they'll say and give them a poke. "Show some respect, it's James!"

The bulls are less admiring. I think it comes down to jealousy. One or two, I cannot help but notice, have been almost openly hostile.

I had every intention of sleeping in. I figured I needed some rest. But I was up by seven or so and back on the road by eight. My six mile hike into Broadus, Montana harder than I had anticipated. Last night the miles were ticking by. Today was something of a slog. I was hungry and thirsty. I had water but I did not want to drink much. It was of a rather peculiar color and tasted like engine parts.

I did reach town in spite of myself. God save me, I had a hamburger. Then I toured the museum and followed that up with a BBQ beef brisket sandwich. I was rather trying to stuff myself to carry me forth on the road. But as it turned out I stretched my poor stomach and made myself hungrier still.

The burger I ate at the bowling alley. The Cokes came one at a time. The BBQ beef was at a place called Hoofers. It had a piggy theme. The Cokes were free-flowing and my hostess was agreeably odd. "Delightfully eccentric," I called her right to her face. She was not too too displeased. It will be my pleasure to eat there again, next time I'm in Broadus, Montana.

The Broadus Museum was rather nice. I spent two hours there. It is stuffed to the gunwales with all sorts of junk, guns and tractors and sich. And old machines and uniforms and sea shells, believe it or don't. A good woman called Lee gave me a guided tour. I would have been lost without her. And I spoke at length with a retired rancher who bragged he was ninety years old.

Broadus is not an ancient town. It was founded in the 1910s. Folks came from Texas and other such places to homestead when they got the chance. The smaller ranches cover three or four square miles. The large ones run upwards of forty. I would be very impressed with myself if I owned that much land.

I was not at all anxious to leave Broadus. That was due to more than its charm. It is getting harder in my old age to generate enthusiasm. My computer, up for the first time in days, told me it was ninety-two degrees. If I were rich I'd have rented a room and gone for a swim in the pool. As it was I loaded up with water and food, and by five o'cIock I was gone.

That seems rather late but it was a tactical move. It was awfully warm. And my pack was ridiculously heavy with food and what I hope is just enough water. I wanted to put a dent in the twenty-nine mile stretch to the spiggot at the non-existent town of Hammond, Montana. I was shooting for nine; I only made it seven. There is still a good chance I'll survive. If I manage a decent day tomorrow I will be just fine.

Outside of Broadus I passed the Powder River, the first I've seen in weeks. "250 miles long and one mile wide and one inch deep. Too thick to drink and too thin to plow." So said the early pioneers. Where I crossed it was a good twenty feet wide and in spots it looked plenty deep. I was especially pleased to see a Fishing Access. It reminded me of the good old days.

Such as they were.

But I did not stop; I had places to go. As it was I did not get far. I pulled up at a Highway Rest Area, not two miles out of down. A rather stupid place for it, if you want to ask me, with a bowling alley so nearby. Better to put it out on the praire where it could do folks some good. But my pack was heavy and I had to pee. I had tried too to load up on water.

There I met Steve, a local. He was riding one hell of a bike. It was a Cushman scooter from the 1950s, painted John Deere green. It had a beautiful tail end and a seven horsepower motor. It tops out at fifty miles per. "I'd go a hundred if I could."

I wouldn't. They are not so substantially built. It was still a pretty machine. I bet he could sell it to some urban hipster for twenty-five thousand dollars. He was not a young man, not by a stretch, but he sure looked cool on it.

He took off and came back on the sport version of same. This one would go sixty. It looked like a little an old-fashioned motorcycle, only running on small scooter tires. Next time I cross America it'll be on a Cushman scooter.

Or a Vespa. Or a Honda. Or on the train. Or on one of those Seven-Four-Sevens. Or in a car or a hot air balloon or riding on an old mule. Be assured, I ain't going to walk it again. That would be foolishness.

I'm just a few miles up this road. It don't seem so horribly bad. Traffic is light and there's a good shoulder. There are plenty of hills but I am used to those. The land gives you something to see. It is more praire but it is rougher here. There are boobs and pyramiddy things. My pack will get lighter as I drink up my water and eat up all of my food. And tomorrow is meant to be in the low eighties. I may just make it yet.


BROADUS promotes itself as the Wavingest Town in the West. Folks are just so friendly they can't help but wave at everyone they see. Whether they're begging for drinking water or not. I think that's nice.

MY SHOES, I hate them, they suck. But they are just about dead. I may have to go at them with duck tape to make it to the next store.

SOME PEOPLE say "duct tape." They reveal a woeful ignorance. Duck tape was invented during WWII for use by the United States Navy. That project, only recently declassified, involved, among other things, the taping together of ducks. For emergency propulsion, one assumes. The details are not broadly known. And while I sympathise with the aims of the animal rights movement, if it saved American lives, I think it was worth it.

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