|The perfect bike for roads like these.|
|Barns for Jason|
There were actually four dogs, but three were of such ancient age and wisdom that they were letting the younger dog do all of the barking at this point. One, a thickly haired, yellowish dog of medium size was walking with a limp. It must have had a hip problem. Well, the younger dog was curious, slightly wary, but full of mischief, so it immediately bounded around my bike and started to jump up on me as if it wanted to play. Barking incessantly, this dog was full of energy. The other three let out an occasional bark as the fit took them, but were mostly content to sniff my bike and myself, probably hoping to get some of my food I had in my bags, which I am sure they were able to smell.
Well, this was odd, and I didn't know how long it might take till they lost their interest and let me pass. Then the owner called out. I find that as soon as that happens dogs tend to break into protection mode. Sure enough, the youngest dog went on the defensive. The other dogs went back into the yard. They knew the drill. After much cajoling of the younger dog by the owner, and an apology from her, I was free to continue Northward.
|The roads were steeper in Wabaunsee County. This is Des Moines Road looking East.|
|Flowers for Kristi on the decision making corner.|
I had limited supplies of water on board the Fargo yet, but no where near 40 plus miles worth. I saw a route that would be about 23 miles to Americus and I knew that there was a Casey's General Store there. Okay, decision made. I would cut my stay in Wabaunsee County short and turn back South after a traverse Eastward through the Southwestern end of Wabaunsee County. But not before I went one more mile North. With the raging wind, that would be no easy task, so I sat there for a bit gathering energy to get going again.
|Looking Southeastward with Des Moines Road running on ahead.|
|Traversing Wabaunsee County Eastward. The wind was a devilment by this point, even from an angle.|
|Was this a school house, a residence, or....? All I could see was the sign which said "Chalk Dist 3"|
|The crazy rollers coming from the West that I rode to get here.|
I sat down next to my bike along the wire cemetery fence. I wondered about this spot. As I glanced over my shoulder at the headstones, I wondered who these monuments represented. What were these people's hopes and dreams when they came here long ago? Why here? There was nothing to recommend the place to a settler. The land was not suitable for tilling, being so rocky. There were no manufacturing opportunities, no transportation hubs, and no cultural ties to this area. The white settlers had supplanted the Kanza tribe, and they in turn had come from the East years before. This land swallowed them all up. Now all that was left were place names honoring the Native Americans and these headstones. The land had beaten them back. Turned them back to dust.
The Earth of this place was calling faintly. I felt it. I could just close my eyes and release, but not today. This wasn't my time nor my place. I didn't belong there. I was just a wanderer. I needed to move on....... Suddenly all I heard was the rushing wind in the grass.
Next: Sailing To Americus