by Nathan Poell
Towards that end, we’ve been saving up food and other supplies for the extended road trip. Since last spring, we’ve been drying, pickling and otherwise preserving everything edible we can get our hands on. This has proven trickier than it sounds, as we never had much use for food preservation equipment and so never bought any.
But we’ve remedied that. I (Nance) have been picking through several old businesses and even some abandoned homes and homes where we know the previous tenants died for – among other things – serviceable jars, canning equipment, oven racks and door screens and other well-ventilated flat surfaces for drying food, etc. This may sound completely horribly ghoulish to you, maybe even like we’re engaging in the barbarity we’re trying to escape. I fundamentally agree, but we’re just that desperate to get ourselves ahead of the game and out of town, and they’re not using it.
If I may be so bold, Gary has turned into a damn fine shot with the bow he acquired the second summer after everything fell apart. So, we’ve eaten mucho jackrabbit and put up a bit of deer and some pronghorn jerky over the last year. It’s nasty work, and difficult, getting the game back to the house once he’s killed it, then dressing it and making jerky, but so much else has become a filthy toil since, you know. The deer jerky is pretty good, but the pronghorn is so tough it tastes almost like a rawhide chew. Good to keep your mouth busy, I suppose.
It won’t come as a surprise to you that most of our food preservation is done through drying. We’ve been putting most of it on the roof, where it’s impossible for thugs to see it and steal it. Had to learn the hard way, though. Fortunately, the only thing they got away with was a bunch of ancho chilies. Hard telling if they even knew what they were stealing.
We’d been having trouble deciding what kind of bikes to take. Not bikes, really, but the junk we ought to put on the bikes to make the ride easier on us, what tires would be best suited to the job, etc. We figured fenders were pretty much unnecessary for a ride right now, but since we’re still not ready to leave, that might change. We’ll ask the courier when we see him next. Racks are simply a necessity, so we’ve scored a couple rear racks and finally located one to put on the front of my bike. I’m bummed about not being able to take my carbon frame bike. Gary told me it might be handy for running errands around town, but that I was freaking nuts to think he’d let me ride it fully loaded on a cross country trek. The roads are such a mess right now, and they’re never going to get any better, I’m afraid. So, we finally decided to take a couple old school-style rigid steel frame mountain bikes. I’m fitting them out with drop bars and clips to increase our pedaling efficiency. Aluminum or even steel road bikes would have been both lighter and better for body positioning for long rides, but we think there’s a trade-off with the wheels. We’ve had a terrible time trying to find tubes and tires for 700c presta valve based rims. Of course, 26 inch wheels, tubes and tires aren’t growing on trees nowadays, but they’re still easier to find than road stuff. Also, we think there’s a distinct advantage in the durability and load capacity of 26 inch tires. (We really don’t want to get stuck out in eastern Colorado or western Kansas with flat tires and at least 70 miles before the nearest place to get them checked out.) And inch and a halfs seem to be the best compromise between load capacity and rolling resistance. So, we’ve put got 26 x 1.5 inch semislick tires on each bike, with matching tubes, and a backup set of tubes and tires for each bike. With any luck we won’t need any of the spares, but not having them is just an open invitation to trouble. We’ve maxed out the bottle cages on each bike, and Gary’ll be strapping a three gallon water cooler to the rear rack of his bike. I’ll have the tent packed into one of my pannier bags. We’re splitting the food equally between us just for practicality’s sake. Each of us will carry our own clothing, and so there won’t be much of that. We’ll bathe as much as possible and maybe find a way to do laundry once or twice during the trip, but chances are that we’ll still be so incredibly ripe by the time we make it to eastern Kansas that you’ll probably be able to smell us on the wind a day before we get into North KC. Oh, and we’ll be wearing helmets, so rest assured there. I finally brought Gary around to my way of thinking – that staying a bit cooler isn’t worth getting a brain injury over. Besides, I told him his head would sunburn. (I was half-joking, but he is quite a bit thinner on top since you last saw him.)
We both went round and round about this several times, but we’ve finally mapped out our trip. We estimate the the entire trip is 900 or so miles, maybe 1000 if we have to make serious detours or make sidetrips for more supplies. Our plan is to cover about fifty miles a day, sticking to riding in the early mornings and evenings to avoid as much as possible exerting ourselves in the heat. That’s ambitious of us, but I think we can manage it. Here’s our projected itinerary. We’ll start out from here heading east, then north up I-25. The few couriers we’ve seen and talked to say the road is still in pretty good shape, which is great news to us. We’ll ride I-25 north to Pueblo – figure it’ll take six days or maybe a week to get up there. We anticipate this first leg as being the most difficult part of the trip, because – while we’re in decent shape and will be fresh and ready to ride – our bikes will be most laden with food and water at this point, and we won’t have gotten into real road-seasoned shape yet. Also, the hills between here and Pueblo are all pretty freakin’ steep. You may think we should just take I-40 east through Texas and Oklahoma and then I-35 up north and northeast – the way we always used to drive – but there are a couple main reasons we’re not going that way. We’ve heard Amarillo is now a haven for banditos, there appear to be fewer water sources that way – at least on our maps – and Pueblo will be a good pit stop before the next leg. Got a couple of really good friends up there who’ll put us up for a night or two – especially if we bring food! We’ve heard from the couriers that I-70 is in great shape, but water sources all through eastern Colorado and into western Kansas along that route are pretty slim. So, we think taking highway 50 east out of Pueblo and following the Arkansas river as long as possible is the best bet. We’ll do that all the way past Dodge City, where the river turns northeast. We’ll keep on east southeast towards Pratt, then into Wichita. This second leg is the longest, but we’re hoping that since we’re following the river downstream and have the wind at our backs it won’t take much longer than the first, maybe eight days. Probably spend a night or two in Wichita, then take I-35 northeast into Kansas City. That’ll be a bit hillier, but we figure five or six days, tops. Then we’ll knock on your door and hope you have something for us to eat and maybe even a bottle of beer for us to share – we’re going to need it!
We’re sending this ahead so you know to expect us a month or two from the time this letter is delivered. We’re leaving in just over a month, and figure the letter might take a couple weeks to get to you, at the outside. These couriers are balls out fast, and they’re charging us quite a bit for delivery. (We gave them some pronghorn jerky and told them it was deer, so the cost doesn’t seem to hurt so bad.)
Sorry this was so long. Didn’t mean to bore you, just wanted to assure you that we’d really thought this thing through and had a decent, safe gameplan. We were just remembering the other day when heading over to visit you in Kansas City was a long day’s drive. It seemed like such a pain in the ass, then. Well, our asses are going to be about twenty times more sore after this trip! Wish us luck – pray for us, even, if you think it’ll help – and we’ll see you in October!
Gary and Nance
To: Allen Lindsay, Jr., Lawrence, KS
From: Virginia Lindsay, Wilsey, KS
January 15th, 20+5
Dear Allen,
Greetings from home. It’s been so long since we’ve – I’ve heard from you. But then, it’s been so long since I’ve written you, too.
We’ve been lucky this winter. Except for a very brief cold snap at the beginning of the year, it’s been so mild here. The wind still howls, and will only get worse in the coming months, of cour
se. But the Halsey boys rode out early December and sealed up the leaks in the house’s windows and doors. They even brought me half a cord of wood – good hedge wood. Should see us – me through the end of winter, anyway. Mrs. Halsey herself died just a couple months ago, a day or two after Thanksgiving. Flu. I don’t know whether the Halsey boys were carrying it, or what it was particularly, but I came down with something nasty a few days after they worked on the house. Terrible sweats and chills. For three days I could scarcely find the strength to feed the fire and keep the stove going. Couldn’t even get the lids off any of my canned goods. Wouldn’t have done any good, anyway – couldn’t keep anything down but hamhock broth, and barely that. Oh, but I’ve been through worse. Sitting by the stove, listening to the wind (and being thankful that it was kept outside) and leafing through some old photo albums was not –
Anyway, Barb Halsey. You still remember her, don’t you? She lived right in the middle of town, at 4th and Lyndon. The nice limestone house with the wrought iron gate. Taught you and Anne piano lessons. I know you were always a good student, Allen, but I think Anne skipped more than she went. Barb charged all the same, though. Ah, I can’t hold that against her, such a minor thing now. She was a nice gal. I think a bit of her husband rubbed off on her, but she was still a basically good person. And her boys. Well, see above. They’re both living in the house, now. Karl has a wife and a son and daughter – chubby little towheads, so ornery – and I think Marty has a pretty steady girlfriend.
I’ve been toying with the idea of moving over to Council Grove this spring. Just a few miles. I’m getting to the point where it’s a little difficult to make it out to pump water several times a day. It’d just be so nice to have semi-running water again. They’ve set up or somehow re-fitted the windmills as pumps over there, and the reservoir and lake are still plenty full. Or so I’ve heard, anyway. Of course, a few of the more imaginative gossips in town (Meg Barnes, particularly) say that Kansas City has gaslights and trolleys now. But since Council Grove is pretty close I’m a bit more prone to believe about the windmills.
Woke up yesterday morning to the sound of the piano. It was the strangest thing. I bundled up and went downstairs and found one of the cats tramping all around the dining room. I’m not happy about them staying inside, but I guess it is winter and there’s been coyote and even some cougar sightings. Not surprising, I suppose, what with the huge deer population explosion a couple years ago. I wouldn’t want to be stuck outside, either. Of course, the tomcat disappears for days and even weeks on end. Haven’t seen him for almost half a month now. It was the mama cat on the piano.
I still remember working in the kitchen and listening to the plinking and plunking coming from the dining room as you practiced. You rarely seemed to get exasperated with it, even though you inherited such short fingers from us. Don’t think you ever went the entirety of your prescribed practice sessions, however. Either that, or the timer we used ran mighty fast.
Aside from the illness I had in December, I have been eating quite well. The summer harvest was fine – plenty of tomatoes, beans and zucchini. The fall harvest, though. Well, I’ve never really seen the like, even when we had sprays and fertilizers, irrigation, etc. The corn alone took the whole town two weeks of sunup to sundown days to harvest. It’s all drying, now – most of it will get ground up in the spring for meal. What’s left will go to hogs and the few cattle around here. Probably the cattle more than anything, as the hogs are pretty happy eating acorns. Vernon Mitchell broke a forearm falling out of one of the apple trees – a nearly-matured seedling – while harvesting in his orchard and had to get ridden into Council Grove to get patched up by Doc Saw. (I can’t say that the apples are all that tasty to eat out of hand, but there are a lot of them, and they make good juice and apple butter.) And, I’ve been eating on a half a hog since October! Nice as they are, I didn’t trust the Halsey boys to slaughter it right. They’re carpenters by trade. So, I had Art Muncy and his daughter Lill out to help slaughter, dress and cure it. They really did almost all the work. Art’s a... well, kind of a layabout now. Grows marijuana and some not-so-great squash and pumpkins, but he used to work in Emporia at a meatpacking plant and knows his way around a carcass. Never cared for him so much, but Lill’s nice. Still cute, too – sweetest smile – and unattached. Just saying.
I sent them home with almost half the pig. I know what you’d say to that, but look – just deal with it. Everyone – everyone in this town, at least – gets fed. Half a pig’s a lot for one old lady, anyway, especially when you add it to the abundance of everything else. Have you been eating half as well as us?
(And anyway, Art grows superb weed.)
I don’t know, maybe it’s just been so many years – how many? five or six now? – since we had such conveniences as pesticides and combines and the rail and satellite TV. I guess there was a lean year after everything went kaput, but we bounced back. We have so much here – decent food and plenty of it, a roof, a stove, water – that I can’t say that I miss very many things anymore. Maybe just pineapple for upside down cake from time to time, and your father.
Have you heard from Anne lately? Last I knew she was up in Junction City. I really don’t know what she’s been up to for the past couple years. Going on three now. I mail her from time to time, but I’m not sure the new delivery service really knows what they’re doing. They charge so much, too; it cost me two pounds of corn meal and a jar of crabapple jelly for just a 50 mile delivery, for one letter! Well, I guess the riders need it – they’re so skinny. (This is coming from Meg B of course, as the riders only hit the major junctions. But, after riding to and from town on that old Schwinn for these several years – it’s only a half a mile one-way – I really will take her word for it this time.)
If you hear from Anne, let me know please.
You know, I really do enjoy the quiet here, but it got to be a little too much last August and September, so I dug out the old RCA that belonged to your grandfather. Your father never listened to much music – the radio was always tuned to market and weather reports. But he always had a soft spot for the Beach Boys, so I put them on the player and wound it up good. Endless Summer. The record played back just a little bit slow – the spring or whatever makes it go is probably losing its shape, and it made Brian Wilson’s voice a little huskier than I remember – but it sounded fine to me.
All in all, though, I prefer piano.
With love, your mother Genny
P.S. - Depending on when this arrives – two weeks, three maybe? – happy 37th birthday!
To: Gerald and Regina Olliver, Fort Riley, KS
From: Donny and Fawn McCutcheon, Arkadelphia, AR
August 26th, 20+4
Gerald (and Gina)-
We received your letter a week ago today. Hope to hear better news from you soon. How is it possible that there was that big army post doesn’t have any docs on it? Why’d it take so damn long for the doc to get out to you from Junction City? Is Gina improved any? Is she conscious? Still delirious? Doesn’t seem at all fair to be sick like that in summertime.
Glad to hear your sundry supplies are still holding out. This year’s drought will be next year’s bounty, we’re praying for you. We looked at the map, and it shows that the base has a big old reservoir right north of it. Maybe you can make a trip to catch some fish out of it or a spillway when you fetch water, assuming you have someone to keep an eye on Gina while you’re out. Again, we’re hoping and praying for you that the water will be enough to last you and everyone out there the summer through.
It hasn’t been near what you been through, but life here has been up and down.
Firstly, we got ourselves a ghost train. Nobody’s sure how it started moving, but it came click-clacking right by our house into and out of town the week before last. Remember the sound that damn thing used to make on the way past? It was a hell of a shock to just see it rolling by without warning, almost completely quiet. Then, about a day later, it rolled right back
through town and by our house. It made one last pass that evening and settled right in the middle of the bridge going over the Ouachita. Most folks think some kids must have found it and released the brakes on it as a prank, but Gina’s uncle Harold, who used to work for Amtrak before he got busted for moonshining oh so long ago, says that the brakes’ reservoirs depleted and then gravity took over and carried it downhill. A whole bunch of people clambered on top of it after it stopped and tried to scavenge food out of the dining car, but the folks who got stuck on the train must have raided it all before they ditched it. All the folks found the other day was wild yardbird nests.