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!