Kearney, Nebraska
Frogs and Crickets Over Engines
I always prefer the sounds of frogs and crickets over the sounds
of engines. Those melodies of nature are
what I usually hear when trekking in the early hours, around 5:00 a.m.. Today was different. I walked on Central Avenue in Kearney (not
like New York). It was peaceful, broken
up only by the rare motorist and two young, warrior-built types—zestful.
“How’s the walking doing today? We read about you in the paper.” That was gracious, considering people are a
little reserved in this farm country.
Weather was great, about 58°F; perfect for sauntering. It looked like we were going to see the sun
for a change. One more neat
discovery—Hayagriva and I followed the main street in the town of Gibbon. Bee-lining our way, the railroad service road
was beckoning us. This was
favourable. It’s soft with dirt, and
relatively flat. The terrible tilt of
the Lincoln Highway’s shoulder was challenging, as is any highway with its
engineered slant.
My body could feel the difference on the rail’s service
road, which I couldn’t see from the other side of the tracks these last few
days. I took this route until I reached
town. At one factory, an employee saw me,
as often happens. “You’re not going to
continue here?” he asked after I told him I'm on my way to San Francisco. “There’s muddy corn fields ahead.” Perhaps, he hadn't noticed the road of the
railway men.
By the afternoon’s end, I was meeting more people. Ride offers came; of course, I politely bow
out. There’s gifts of water coming my
way, too. I don’t meet too many yogis,
except for one fellow. “I do it for my
lower back,” said the motorist.
Such was a day of sunshine in a temperate climate. Thanks to the “Shelton Clipper” newspaper for
taking our photos and info.
May the Source be with you!
23 mi
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