Outsider

I'm getting ready for a little break, and then I'm on to the final stretch of this big adventure. I put the prairie behind me, and then the endless rolling hills of Wisconsin. I've had my fair share of flat tires, mishaps and calm days... mostly feeling blessed and moving swiftly under blue skies.

It was easy, crossing the flatlands. Besides the obvious lack of hills... the people are generally kind and open, and for awhile camping became really accessible again. I slept in plenty of city parks, behind one local high school, and in a few relatively cheap motels.

What I have encountered out here however, is the subtle and pervasive racism that undercurrents daily life. People here will tell you... "Oh you dont have to worry... This is the Midwest. No locals will bother you." Eventually you begin to understand the implied translation...Most people out here are white. Except those Mexicans who come through to work. Keep an eye out.

This became more evident to me when shopping for the cheapest motel in a given town. The white owner of a local motel will often tell me.... " Well, if you don't care about cleanliness, there's an Indian owned place down the street. That's cheaper. But I'm the cheapest English motel." I have heard this argument in various tones and with varying degrees of overt discrimination. The theory is clear, however... Those Indian owned places are dirty.

For the record.... Indian run motels are the only way to go out here. They are always cheaper, most likely because they have to lower prices to combat racism. They are always clean, have everything you need, and the owners are invariably interesting people.

The other morning I left a motel somewhere in Wisconsin, stopping to chat with the owner and his wife. They are surprised that I know anything about the geography of India. We talk about art, and about the Hindu temple that was built in Chicago. I promise to visit it next time I'm in town. They once lived in the Himalayas for a month of retreat.

That evening, I roll into another small town... Chilton, Wisconsin. The owner of the only motel in town is so overtly racist that I call him on it. When I tell him that I am offended (at the usual argument... Indian places are dirty), he tells me that he knows his business and that I'm a fool. He remains defensive when I check my phone for anyplace cheaper and practically throws me out.

I left nearly in tears... tired, and not sure where I'll be able to sleep. I talk to a few locals and they all raise their eyebrows at me when I talk about local camping. The town is affluent, and I know the cops will kick me out if they find me.

That night I rode another 26 miles to get out of Wisconsin. It got dark and I cranked up Adam Green in my headphones, needing the insanity and chaos to keep me going. I thought about race, and American history. I got tired and bleary eyed, but I made a decision. I needed to get out. I rode until 11 at night, and jumped on the midnight ferry to Michigan. I fell asleep on the open air deck, in the damp air, under the stars...

At five-thirty am, in Ludington, Michigan, I stopped at a local bakery for coffee and a donut. The place has been there since the early 1900's. I chatted with the old man, and the bakers, wondering how I would stay awake. I swung by a local motel, and by chance, the owners were awake, and willing to let me check in at 6:30 am, despite their 2pm check in time... another rad Indian couple. I passed out happy and exhausted...I had ridden over 80 miles, the longest day I've ever ridden.

I'm still in Ludington now, and I will be here for a few more days. I found a great local campground, and I'm getting a few chores done before I head into the woods for a the next couple weeks. I will be off the map... no phone, no internet... until the 14th of August. More adventures when I return. Until then, much love.

xo Malcolm

Taco, Taco, Taco

I'm writing now from Columbus, Nebraska... the day after the 4th of July. There's been so little time to write, and the writing I have been doing is all a little heavy for this blog, more personal... as I move along this journey.


Travelling alone has its ups and downs. I enjoy being able to choose my own direction, not having to negotiate with anyone else, and being able to move at my own pace. There is however, the ever-so-human lonliness to wrestle with, and I have been moving through that, ever since I left Portland.


Going home for a bit was great, but the lonliness kicked into high gear when I found myself back out on the prairie. No more Rainier Cherry trees, no more gardens full of strawberries, and no more endless sea of sweet connections and loved ones. Its just me and the birds out here.... mostly these little black ones with fire-red under their wings... anyone know what these are called? They fly over me, casting little shadows.... and I try to make friends.


I did however, get to connect with Mona and Bill once more before I left Pueblo. They were so kind and nice to be around. I got to meet their youngest son, Bear, and enjoy a family dinner, and dessert out on the patio. They even drove me out of the city a little ways to say goodbye, freeing me from the mess of highways and narrow shoulders in downtown Pueblo.


I am trying not to get into too much detail right now... because I'm hungry, and it is late in the evening.... I'll have to get food soon before everything closes. This isn't the best time to write, to be honest.... but when is, these days?


I like the prairie. The endless flats and rolling hills allow me to disappear into my head for hours at a time, surfacing with all sorts of ideas for new creative projects, and angles for the ones I am already working on. I move through all kinds of places inside.... and outside the scenery is flat and open. The wheatfields of Kansas.... and now the cornfields of Nebraska.


On highway 30, there is a town every ten miles. They were built as whistle stops... where they would add water to the old steam engines. I've taken to stopping rather frequently, but I don't stay still long, and I don't socialize much. I am following the freight track everywhere I go, and my favorite conversations every day are the waves and honks from the engineers. I cant help but wonder what sorts of people they are. A lot of my friends have traveled by freight, and I have heard a lot of upsetting stories. When they get caught on the rails, the engineers don't turn them into the cops.... they beat them up. I wave and I smile... but I wonder.


I took the day off yesterday, with new friends in Grand Island, Nebraska. I managed to find a family that included a queer couple, a straight couple, three kids (one out of town) and a 6 month old baby. I got to cuddle the baby, sleep in a spider-man bed with a slide attached, play with the dog, and write music with the 4 year old. Gavin held my guitar and hit the strings while telling me the lyrics so I could write them down. My favorite went like this:



Taco Taco Taco
Everybody get down on the grass and eat
Taco Taco Taco
When you dont have any water


There were others, which collectively included the lines, "Let's get this party started", and "When the horses neigh at the night". Gavin is cool.


I got to have breakfast with the crew this morning, and then I hit the road again, pulling about 65 miles today, slow and steady. I'm doing all right, moving along and usually happy. I can't believe I will be at festival (Michigan Womyn's Music Festival) is 20 days... on my 30th birthday. I am so excited.

For now I am collecting feathers, sending snail mail to my friends, and listening to albums I haven't spent time with in years. It's a reflective time for me, and music really helps. Thirty years might not seem like much, but I've lived a bit.... there's so much to wrestle with, and to be thankful for. I have started getting involved with AA a little again, taking calls from people new to recovery, and keeping an eye on those I've known for a long time. It's good for me... keeps my head level. I've been blessed with this little tether... humbling and so completely human.

I guess this is all I have to say for now. I have to amp things up... I am almost out of Nebraska, but Iowa looms ahead of me. It's a long haul, and I have to make it to festival by my birthday. I keep telling people that I am ridintg to get to my birthday party. I get tired of saying the same old things. I've been a little ornery lately... trying to keep that in check.

Hoping to get out 70 miles today.... maybe. Wish me luck. Funny thing is, it's not my legs that give out on me.... it's my ass. Saddlesores are no joke.

:)

xoxo