The Push North into Tragedy

I left in the early spring. Taking a course that I had cleared through Waco, Corsicana and Tyler until I reached I-20 headed east. I was slowed by a few snowstorms, but my Tin Can tracker moved well in the snow and I wanted to cross as many rivers as I could before the ice went out and there would be serious flooding. Crossing on ice was hazardous with such a heavy vehicle, but I knew I had flotation and I always checked the depth of the ice before I crossed a river or stream. On these roads, so many bridges were long gone.

My electrics didn't work as well in cold weather, but spring was coming and each day was a bit warmer and charging became easier. I had brought along two electric chainsaws. There was usually a lot of cutting the way through the brush and trees near river crossings that slowed my progress. The battery packs on those chainsaws lasted less than an hour. Fortunately, I had created a panel on Tin Can that provided power for those chainsaws when the batteries ran down by cord. Tin Can's diesel engine was a great auxiliary power source.

At Marshall, I left I-24 Texarkana on to I-30, the familiar road to Hot Springs. As I approached the exit for Arkansas 7 my mind was flooded with thoughts of Lisa and missed opportunity. I cried for miles. Charlie tried to console me but I was beyond consoling. I had to let it out and let it out there. Where I was going there would be no coming back. No reliving memories of this place as I walked its streets. Those days were long gone. Ahead was a great challenge. I tried to concentrate on that. By the time I reached Little Rock I was back on focus again. Charlie was happy.

The ice was already breaking up on the Mississippi. The river was overflowing and probably two miles across in some areas. I drove into Memphis and found that bridge, as high as it was, had been destroyed when its aging structure, beaten by years of flooding and battered by all manner of debris that brought down the western portion in a tangle of twisted steel. My only choice was to take I-55 north. At times, the river came right up to the highway. Huge chunks of ice floated by. But Tin Can was working as expected, taking these watery challenges in stride.

I picked up I-57 at Sikeston, Missouri and took it across the Mississippi and north to the Ohio River crossing at Cairo. I was in Illinois and only two weeks on the road. But I knew that up ahead was a hornet's nest of melted down nuclear reactors where the countryside would be too hot for me to want to travel through. So I picked up I-24 over to I-69 taking me through Evansville, Bloomington and Indianapolis, all in Indiana where there were no nuclear plants. But I had not traveled those roads before and even though they were interstates, ran through some rough country and had numerous washouts from floods for me to cross.

But old Tin Can seemed up to it, going off road with ease and pulling my rig through some rather impossible brush, small trees, gullies and fords. I was on course to make my destination, the south end of Lake Michigan, in record time. But the best laid plans don't always work out. The Ohio River again at Evansville was jammed with ice like the Mississippi and overflowing nearly to the bridge approach. Traffic was jammed going into Evansville 24 years before and was just rotting in place. It took me two days using Tin Can as a bulldozer to clear a path for my rig and be able to continue onward again. But I was glad to have crossed the Ohio once more, my last big river challenge.

Much of I-69 was rather new by comparison to interstates that I had traveled, making it even better for me to use on this trip. As the days and miles went by I didn't think that anything bad would happen ahead. But when your guard is down, that's when bad things happen. I came upon a place where the road crossed a small creek and there had been some kind of long ago catastrophe with a bridge that had been blown up. It was an easy crossing, so I went off road and down into the valley, pushing away brush until I got to the rather rocky creek that was rushing with spring meltdown but quite passable.

As I started across the creek climbing over the rocks I was about two thirds of the way across when I heard a grinding sound and decided to stop. When I looked, the right track was off the track. So, I had to get out and into the freezing water with crowbars and jacks and try to get the track back on with both the travel trailer and ATV sitting in the river behind.

I got the track back on track. But I wasn't sure it would stay. When it came off, sharp rocks in the river had damaged the cog connection and it didn't look very good. The day was very late when I tried to go forward again, frozen to the core from the water making it even hard to drive. Thankfully, I made it across the stream and up the bank to the freeway before it grew too dark.

I got a fire going outside to dry off and started cooking a hot meal, when I heard a familiar howl and knew there were wolves close by. My cooking fire was a magnet but I couldn't put out the meat I was frying so I prepared myself with a couple of Roman candles to scare them off and make sure that my 357 Magnum was loaded. I tried to calm Rocky who kept pacing and growling as we heard their howls come closer.

In no time, dark forms came out of the brush and up onto the road. Charlie freaked, screamed, and climbed up the highest nearby tree, yelling downward. I held Rocky close by my side, trying to pick out the alpha male in this rather large pack of maybe, twelve swiftly moving carnivores eager to eat what I was eating. Not nearly enough for that bunch, but they didn't know it. Rocky and I would be on the menu next.

I opened fire with the Roman candles. Wolves scattered everywhere yelping when they were hit. Above, I caught a dark shadow coming in fast. It was a great horned owl, probably attracted by the commotion. It easily picked Charlie screeching at the top of his lungs from the tree and carried him off into the darkness. My heart sank. I held onto Rocky tighter as I continued my barrage on the wolves. Predictably, they turned tail and ran, unable to fight with the strange fiery lightning bolts. In less than five minutes it was over. Charlie was gone.

Rocky and I retired for the night and there was no more trouble from the wolves or even bears or mountain lions that hunted in the night. But I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking of what I could've done better to keep him from harm. But he had been flirting that kind of danger for a very long time. I was just lucky to have had the pleasure of Charlie's company for so long before the inevitable happened.

Charlie had reached maturity and had experienced so much in his short life. He didn't get to live that life fully, but it was much longer, I believe, than if he had stayed a part of that missing troop in Little Rock. He chose me over that troop and I'll be forever grateful for that. Farewell Charlie. Farewell. Still, every time I think about it I cry.

Unable to sleep, I was up before dawn and back working on the tracks to see if they could be repaired. But, with two cogs broken, it was doubtful the track would stay on for any more off-road traveling. I put the wheels in motion and we moved on, the two of us. If he did, Rocky didn't show that he missed Charlie. But I don't know dog thoughts, so I'm not sure if he did or not.