Finding Companionship in Disillusionment
After those tracks led me to nowhere, I began to grow disillusioned that I would find people alive that would not have been so traumatized that they would welcome the likes of me. Someone just trying to make it in a wild, new world where there were no rules except to survive for as long as one can. I had all the tools of survival and was trying to stay out of situations where I would need other human help. Doing quite well, considering. But, the idea of spending the rest of my life without others was daunting. I begin thinking about trying to tame a feral dog like I sometimes saw in packs, now competing with wolves and coyotes for the same territory and food.
I took I-79 north into Pennsylvania. At Washington, I caught I-70 west. The road bed was very bad and there was a lot of damage from storms so going was rough until I got to Wheeling and the Ohio River again. I wasn't looking for any more tracks and I didn't see any. I did see through my cracked windshield a familiar Peterbilt sign and pulled off the interstate to find Gunter Truck Sales and Service, battered but not burned. The place had been badly looted and there were no serviceable trucks anywhere to be found.
In the parts area I found, high up in racks, the windshields I was looking for. Particularly the one that fit my 579. I found some glass suction cup handles and rigged a pulley system to get it down. The only end loader around had been vandalized so badly I couldn't fix it to use.
I stayed there two days, glad to be inside because it rained the whole time. Occasionally, I was able to let the goats graze behind the property. Everywhere, there were always vines and new growth to their liking, especially the poison kind. Charlie wandered around the service area and kept me company. Always telling me when he spotted a bat or a rat and really got excited when he saw a raccoon. I had seen a cat or two. But they were always alone and very furtive. They were real survivors. Doing much better than dogs, who always looked mangy and near death, even when they were in packs. I avoided them for fear of rabies or worse.
With the use of my jerryrigged pulleys fastened to the overhead lift system that wasn't working, I managed to get the replacement windshield in place and then found the proper rubber molding that, fortunately, was still pliable, to pop the windshield in place. Even with guidance from a service manual, it wasn't easy, and took me hours. At least the rain kept it from being too hot while working. Still, I was glad to get back on the road and on my way seeing clearly again. Thankful that I was able to replace the windshield wiper rubber as well. The new windshield and wipers threw off rain water very well.
Somewhere near Zanesville on the way to Columbus doing about 70 on good road for a change, I saw a flash of something come up out of the ditch on my right and I hit it with the cattle guard. In need of fresh meat, I stopped the truck to investigate what I hit. It turned out to be a German Shepherd female lying there dead where she landed in the ditch. Licking her bloody face was a small pup, maybe only 2 to 3 weeks old, whining for his mother. I couldn't leave him there. He would be dead by evening if not back in the hole that his mother had made as a lair for them. He also needed milk because he was still too young to eat meat.
He growled a puppy growl and tried to bite me with his baby teeth, but I quickly bundled him in my arms and petted him on his head. The little guy calmed down and began whimpering and whining for his mother again. Back in the trailer, I found a baby bottle and put some goat's milk in it. The little fellow was very hungry because he took to the milk right away.
When I returned to the cab where I had kept Charlie cooped up, he got excited seeing the puppy and I had to calm him down so that he wouldn't disturb the little guy. By that time, I had found a suitable cardboard box in the trailer to put the puppy in with a towel for him to lieon. I placed the puppy in the box between the seats and we continued our journey to Columbus. The little guy whined for 15 minutes or so until the digesting milk got to him along with the drone of the road and he fell fast asleep.
I had to keep Charlie back up on his seat and not down below trying to pet the sleeping puppy. I always pulled off before nightfall to give the goats some time to run and feed. Just beyond Columbus, I found a rest stop where we stopped for the night. As I made my meal on my outdoor grill the sunset proved beautiful except for the streak of black in the red glow that was the Clinton Illinois powerstation melting down. I was glad that my path this time would go south of that. I wouldn't need to close up my cab like so many times before and keep my eye on the Geiger counter.
The puppy kept me awake through part of the night with his whimpering, but a little feeding quickly put him back to sleep. While I was up I conferred with Charlie about what to name him and we both decided that he would become a very strong dog after a rocky start, so we named him, Rocky. Charlie was happy to have another buddy with us. Didn't seem to be at all jealous that Rocky had joined us. Before the night was over, they were sleeping together in that box.
I thought a moment whether there had been other pups. And then, I realized that when canines were in dire situations where food was scarce, their litters were small. And, the way things were for dogs, she could have lost puppies to other predators. May have been running from coyotes or wolves when she ran into my truck.
The road was good ahead, and the next day we crossed the Mississippi at St. Louis. The Arch shining in the sunlight… its polished aluminum not showing any sign that anything had happened… Unlike the city around it, burned and looted like so many I had seen. I stopped for a moment by the monument and let the goats out to run. I didn't have a leash yet for Rocky, but he had already bonded well with Charlie and trotted along with him as best he could on his still short legs and too big feet.
The entrance to the Arch was trashed so there was no going in there or even trying to figure out how to get up in it, even if I had to climb. After we all had our lunch, we were on our way out of town again.
The prairie was returning quickly. Already, storm clouds were forming and I could smell smoke from a fire burning somewhere off to the west. What once had been fenced off into farms, was now opening up and I could see where herds of animals had passed through and crossed I-70 leaving trails of muddy hoof prints and manure. I stopped and checked a couple of them. There were wild horses, feral cattle, and even herds of deer. And, there were huge swaths created by buffalo passing through, and some exotic game that may have been elk, antelope, sheep, or even wildebeest. I found some large excrement and beaten-down trail that even looked like it could be elephant.
The young trees that had grown since the initial big burn were being either burned again or stripped clean by grazers. Already, in mid-summer it was blistering hot, running up to close to 110° some afternoons with powerful thunderstorms passing through in the evenings and into the nights. There was evidence of drought across the land and no irrigation anymore to keep it green. I wanted to stick around and see how it all turned out. But I had to move on to the Rocky Mountains ahead… Up ahead first there was Columbia, Kansas City, and Topeka… burned out cow towns that were no more. And then, I saw them, the Rockies, looming in the distance.
The next day, I made Denver. It was blistering hot at lunchtime and there wasn't any shade, anywhere. So, I started up into the Rockies with the hope that I would get through. A few miles out, near the Continental Divide, I ran into heavy derelict traffic. Fortunately, most of it had been pushed off to the side until I came to a spot where it was solid stalled cars and trucks for as far as I could see. I had to backtrack and cross over to the other, eastbound, side where the road was open.
Five miles further up the road I saw the problem. A massive landslide had come down off the mountain taking a few cars and trucks with it all the way down to where I was in the eastbound lanes. So glad to get through because it would've been many many miles of backtracking before I would get north or south to another interstate to continue my way westward.
Progress was very slow because there were more landslides that mostly affected the westbound lanes. But twice, I had to leave the eastbound side and go back over to the westbound lanes for a few miles. Several times I had to push vehicles out of my way and several times I had to use the winch to get my tractor and trailer over very rough slides that I couldn't drive over. The mountains were as they always had been, a dangerous place, always moving. Only now there was no road maintenance to keep them open. From what I was seeing, I didn't think I'd be able to come back through this way again.
I came down out of those Rockies as I left Colorado near Grand Junction, with Utah more accommodating. I entered that daunting “106 Miles With No Services" stretch by checking my fuel and I had about a thousand miles left, way more than enough to get me to Palm Springs, my ultimate destination. As I drove through the canyon lands of Utah the road was quite clear and I made good time, stopping occasionally just to enjoy the vistas and take in the scenery that hadn't changed one iota from the way it was before everything came apart.
Only now it was quiet. There were no traffic sounds on the Interstate. Just the cries of hawks and eagles above, making me very vigilant when I let the goats out. Charlie was always at risk and Rocky even more. I had acquired some Roman candles along the way and found they were very useful for scaring off predatory birds that tried to harass my animals. Unfortunately, they scared my animals, too. My goats demonstrated nicely by bleating and peeing on the pavement.
When I got to Salina, Nevada, I had a choice to make. Take I-15 south to Las Vegas and on into Southern California, or take US 50 west into Northern California. I opted for the latter because I knew I could forage for fish, fruit and vegetables there and I couldn't anymore in Southern California.
In spite of the layer of dust and brief outcropping of vegetation after the two long winters and subsequent rains, this area of Nevada had already started returning to its salt flat desert appearance with blistering temperatures that made me wish to get into the Sierras and Northern California as soon as possible. With long dry spells, the vegetation dried up and the dirt turned back into dust blown about by the wind that was constant.
Near Ely, Nevada a dust storm came at us like a black wall. After it arrived, I had to quit driving and we just sat it out for two hours until the dust cleared out and I was able to drive on again. We stopped for lunch at a little place called Austin and I let everybody out after being cooped up during the dust storm.
Five minutes after, I was enjoying some smoked salmon and feeding some of it to Charlie when I heard Rocky making little growling sounds by a rock next to a nearby building. And then I heard a rattling sound and knew that he was in trouble. I got there just in time as he was just missed by the strike of a large rattlesnake. I grabbed the snake by the neck and twisted the neck around until it came off, throwing the head away. I then, took the snake, about 5 foot long, and whipping it like a whip, caught Rocky in the butt with the rattle and he went whimpering away. I hope that taught him a lesson that snakes were dangerous.
After lunch, I skinned the snake and cut it up to put in the refrigerator. It had been some time since I had eaten any snake. Bony but quite good. I took the skin and tacked it to one of my meat/fish drying boards on the trailer. Thought I'd make something of it the following winter. Perhaps a headband.
