Dad tried to hand me a check. Though he is still banking on the banking system carrying us through, we know our current currency is on its way out of style fast. He did make me take a handful of silver pieces. Though I laughed at the commodity in my hand and made a joke about the rich taste of precious metal, I felt a little relieved to have some of the hard stuff on me. He tried to buy my fare, but I convinced him even expecting a fast & full devaluation of our popular currency, the $400 amtrak fare was a poor investment for a small farmer like him. I made him promise to stockpile for the winter months and he laughed, but I have a feeling those in those bitter cold states might just have it a little better off than those of us in more populated rural areas elsewhere. - They've been building these wind turbines across the northland in the past few years, and rigging themselves ethanol distillation co-ops for the past several months at least. Even younger kids are adept at hunting, with both bullets and arrows. My sister rides her horse regularly for 10 miles...taking it further for supplies would only be a matter of some quick thinking and a different kind of mechanicking. Folks have the type of rugged sensibility that has kept them in the habit of buying flour for the winter since the turn of the century - and a stringent, old world community mindset that keeps them up with the times and our elder folks warm and comfortable at the same time.
Having jumped cargo trains in the southwest, and on my way back to the midwest a month ago, I still never believed I'd see this many riders. Reminds me of my grandpas stories of hobo-ing out west to work on the de-forestation crews in the 30s...sometimes 2 or 3 of us sit in the same hole, share beans, bread, and stories. Talked to a kid from Vermont who heard about the collectives out west and has dreams of sending some money back to his family out east. Two things keep going through my mind on this trip: 1) I feel like we're all taking a collective step (reeling from a collective push) backward in time. (Not all bad) and 2) How does he think he'll send fresh vegetables across the nation - seems that particular brand of wealth distribution isn't in our interest. .... Still, he's a good kid and plays his guitar long into the night. He sounds something like portishead on happy hugband, I'm grateful for his muse tonight...
Feels good to jump down from the train and stand up straight. I ponder how it was some folks life-death journey to do the oregon trail, and here in my 20something lifespan I've seen that immense country whiz by at least 15 times. Just hitching a ride, not becoming dependent on it, I think as I watch that train wind away, when I might catch it again, if ever. I'm on the west side of Portland and have some riding to do.
The deadwood collective is -oh- something like 130? 140? miles from pdx. An easy 2 day trip. I would have walked it in a week but couldn't resist these roads on my bike even if it meant jumping on and off the trains with my bike, which is not an easy maneuver. I strap my hiking backpack to my back rack, and get started. I won't go into the details of the trip. Biking Oregon is my favorite activity on earth, and the roads are so much nicer without the constant buzz of logtrucks and drunk pickups. I'm still eating on the homemade bread and homemade summer sausage and chokecherry jam my grandma sent me, oh man, that stuff is so good I devour it, feeding my worked out body.
