Phase II: A week on the road

Arrived in Rochelle, Il. late this evening after a long day of 100 miles and couple of unexpected detours. Going through the small town of Barstow the road I was on was flooded from recent rains so I was forced to change retrace my route and go on I-88. There was minimal traffic and a nice shoulder so I decided to take this route as it would be much faster. About 30 miles down the road a trooper pulled me over with a blip of his siren and informed me that cyclists cannot ride on the interstate in Illinois. After checking my name in the Illinois database, he sent me up the road to the nearest exit.

As evening approached I was at a crossroads on a small highway looking for my final turn to the north that would bring me to Rochelle when a woman stopped and offered me advice on where my turnoff would be. About that time I saw a young woman cyclist with panniers pull up to a restaurant and go inside to eat. I was tempted to go in and strike up a conversation with her about her trip, but with darkness pending and 20 miles ahead of me I decided to press on since I wanted to get off this particular highway that was well traveled by 18 wheelers.

As I approached my final turn, I was surprised to see a small taco trailer at the intersection. With the name taqueria Monterrey emblazoned on its side, I decided to stop for a quick taco and to see what I could learn from the proprietor. The young mexicano running it said he came from Chicago to start this business with the hopes of eventually opening a full-fledged restaurant. I told him I was from Texas and he told me that he'd lived in Houston off Telephone Road. I told him about my trip and he explained to me that there used to be a motel at this intersection but that it had been converted to a migrant camp, almost all of them were from "el valle." He got busy with customers but another man heard a bit of our conversation and he told me he was a supplier for many small Latino businesses in the region. He lived in Naperville near Chicago. I told him I was headed towards Carpenterville and he said he did business there but that it was a place that was bad for Latinos.

They both advised me to take care because I was going down a road with no lights and it was already dark. They were right, it was extremely pitch black but sister moon was rising on the eastern horizon through a cloudy haze. A few miles up the road, I began to see a mushroom cloud of lights from Rochelle refracting off the clouds, and I knew I'd reach Rochelle withing the hour. I stopped a convenience store as soon as I pulled in for a cold drink. The two clerks saw my bike and began asking about my ride. they refused to take my money saying it was the least they could offer. After getting instructions on where to find motels, I thanked them and moved on.

From Iowa City to West Liberty to East Moline

My horoscope today from a local paper: Not everybody wants to change the world, you know. So when you declare your own personal revolution, don't be offended if all you get is foggy looks. They'll understand later.

Yesterday Omar took the day off to show me around Iowa City and surrounding communities. I had a great meeting with Angel Gonzalez, a Program Coordinator with the University of Iowa's labor center, which I will describe in a later update in more detail. We visited La Reyna, a store and restaurant in the area and spoke briefly with one of the co-owners and heard a little about how she started her business. Omar arranged a meeting with me today with Jose Elizondo, the first Latino city council person elected in the town of W. Liberty, which is about 20 miles east of Iowa City. This, too, was a fascinating meeting which I will elaborate on soon.

I enjoyed my time in Iowa City and am extremely grateful for the hospitality extended to me by Cathy and Omar--good good, a great bed, and excellent company! It was muggy and in the mid-90s today. I'm adjusting, somewhat painfully to being back on the road. I crossed the Mississippi and arrived into East Moline, Illinois this evening.

Tomorrow I head towards Chicago. I plan to go through Carpentersville, one of the small towns west of Chicago that has several anti-immigrant ordinances. I should make it to Chicago by mid-day Friday.



The pics of Latino businesses below are all from W. Liberty, a town of about 3,600 people. According to Jose Elizondo, about 49% are Latino. With the exception of El Torito, all of these are located within the 2 block downtown area. The concentration of Latino businesses contributing to the local economy was reminiscent of Postville, but unlike Postville, though W. Liberty has experienced growing pains over the years, it has not resorted to passing local anti-immigrant ordinances and there is lots of evidence indicating that the townsfolk and its leaders are embracing change.






While taking a break in a small town these bikers approached me wanting to know about my trip. From left to right: Rick, his daughter Molly, and Chuck. They had been at Sturgis a few weeks back and were curious, supportive, and impressed to hear details about my ride. They offered advice about camping and the roads ahead. I find these spontaneous expressions of support and friendliness from strangers inspiring.


In a new posting, I will insert excerpts from my conversations with Jose and Angel so you can hear their perspective on Latino life and challenges in Iowa.

St. Paul to Iowa City

The weather forecast for Thursday was severe thunderstorms so I delayed my start until Friday morning. Marianne took me to St. Paul's westside so I could make a video tribute for my friend raulrsalinas. I took Hwy. 52 south to Rochester and arrived late afternoon to this pristine city of about 100,000 where the Zumbro River flows into Silver Lake.

It's clear within minutes that the renowned Mayo clinic is the driving economic force of the city as it dominates the downtown area and it is immediately evident that the economic base and well-manicured infrastructure of the city thrives on the money generated by this medical giant.

To be sure, a strong service sector is needed to support the well-heeled employees of Mayo and its supporting industries. The downtown area is peppered with ethnic / international stores the to suit the international and/or cosmopolitan interests of doctors and scientists.

If you walk down 4th st. one will encounter evidence of a thriving Latino population--such as the local Catholic church's announcement of a noon Spanish language mass and El Texano, a modest tiendita that serves the local Chicano/mexicano community. I spoke briefly with the proprietor and learned he had moved from Eagle Pass about 7 years ago. He said business was so-so, enough for him to keep busy and do ok. I told him I was from Houston but now living in Minneapolis and that being in stores like his made me homesick. We talked briefly about the Latino populations in each city and wished each other well.

From there I went eat dinner at Dos Amigos, which seemed to cater to mostly non-Latinos though it had an almost all Latino staff. I sat at the bar and watched customers enjoy the ambiance. One of the waiters changed the t.v. for me to a soccer match. On the way back to my motel I came across a 24 hour taqueria. I was impressed that it could sustain business and snapped a photo. One of the employees came out and asked me why I took a picture. She seemed satisfied when I explained that I was traveling around the country and taking note of Latino businesses. I assume that there is an underlying concern by some Latinos that makes them worry about my intentions and whether or not I'm affiliated with ICE or some other government agency.




The next morning I went to Rico's for breakfast and then stopped by the beautiful Veteran's Memorial on my way out of town. In the roster of soldiers who were commemorated there, those who had lived within 50 miles of Rochester from the Civil War to the present, I found 3 Latino surnames.



Later that afternoon as I headed towards the Iowa state line a friend picked me up to spend some b-day time with me. We went to Postville and were surprised that almost all the people walking the streets in the downtown center were Latinos. There were numerous restaurants and stores. We visited one store and bought a few items. Not wanting to eat just yet, I decided that I would return to Postville at a later time to more closely investigate the local dynamics that have led Postville residents to join the ranks of small towns that have passed local anti-immigrant ordinances. At the local church we noticed that a Spanish language mass wars only held every other week.

The next day some friends met us in Waterloo for breakfast. Omar, a seasoned cyclist, brought his bike and we rode from there to Iowa City. Well, almost. We ran out of daylight and the shoulders were made of soft gravel, so when it became dark, we decided rather than risk the narrow roads to call Cathy for a ride. In any case, we had a beautiful 85 mile ride to Solon. much on it on a great bike trail.




I spent Monday in Iowa City meeting people and visiting surrounding communities. I'll update more on that next entry.

This morning as we watched the news and word of Alberto Gonzales' resignation was being reported, we listened to his statement in horror as he spoke of how much he loved this country and that even his worst days in office (presumably the more recent ones when he's been under scrutiny for misleading Congress) were better than his father's best days [in Mexico]. I hope his father and others explain to him how insulting that statement is. His scheduled departure date of Sept. 16th will give new meaning to Mexican independence--or should I say, our freedom from this tyrannical Mexican American?

If you're interested in hearing a radio interview with me from U of M's radio station, Radio K, you can here it here. Download the clips from August 26th.

Access MN is at http://www.accessminnesotaonline.com/, click on "downloads".

Getting ready to launch into Phase II

My 10 days respite at home is quickly coming to a close and I'm heading out Thursday morning. It won't be easy to leave home but I'm also anxious to get back to my trip. While here I have had a number of interviews, had a chance to share some of my photos and observations on my trip thus far with friends and colleagues, and have made plans for moving forward.

FYI, not counting the side trips I took when I rented a car, I calculate that I've traveled approximately 2,750 miles. Below you can see a breakdown of travel by car, bus, and bike. This doesn't count walking.

2,750 miles from Santa Cruz , CA to Minneapolis , MN

-30 mile bus ride from Calistoga (bus)

-150 miles from Redding to Medford (bus)

-47 miles from Eugene to Corvallis (car)

- 22 miles from Sisters, OR to Bend , Or (cab)

-106 miles from Buchanan , OR to Ontario OR (car)

-85 miles from Mountain Home ID to Twin Falls (bus)

-132 miles from E. Yellowstone, MT to Cody , Wyo (car)

-20 miles in Bighorn Mountain (car)

592 miles by vehicle
2,158 miles by bike

My plan from here is to go south to Iowa City and visit friends who have alerted me to local tensions arising in nearby communities related to immigration. From there I will go towards Milwaukee, down to Chicago and then across to Detroit and into Ontario, Canada where I will cross back into the U.S. at Niagara Falls. From there I will head east through New York, Massachusetts and began a southward trek along the eastern seaboard.

I hope the ride and my internet access challenges will be easier, though I go forward a bit thinner, stronger, and smarter. (For those of you who are curious, I lost about 16 pounds during stage I.) To make room for a laptop, I will not be taking my stove and fuel and will lessen the amount of food I carry since finding food has not been a problem and the denser population of the east will ensure this won't be a problem.

Back in Minnesota: Worthington

Worthington, Minnesota, like many small rural towns, has worked hard to make adjustments to a rapid change in demographics over the last two decades. Residents there will tell you that it hasn't always been easy but that most folks recognize that this change is permanent, not a passing phase. As with so many other places I visited across the northwest and into the Midwest, the growing pains have been slow but most community leaders have recognized that the present and future well-being of the community depends on the quality of government and institutional leadership provided during this time of change. In the meanwhile, the local economy has flourished under with the influx of workers and numerous entrepreneurs. One has only to go down 10th st. (formerly Main St.) to see visible evidence of this change as the many restaurants, tiendas, video stores and other business serve as a visible manifestation of Latio economic power. n

Across the country, Latina/o labor power has helped industry giants like the Swift meat packing plant (see above pic) become one of the global leaders in food processing. Last December 12th, on el dia de la virgen de Guadalupe, ICE (Immigration Control and Enforcement) conducted a raid at Swift meatpacking plans around the country. The terrorizing and polarizing effect on the local communities and families was harsh and long lasting. (See one story here: http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2006/12/13/swiftraidupdate/)

The morning after arriving I called some friends with the Minnesota Immigrant Freedom Network (Alondra Espejel and Mariano Espinoza) to ask the to help me identify contacts and I discovered they were in Worthington for a series of meetings. I left 10th St. and decided to take a slow ride on the sidewalks to the union offices where they were. A few blocks up the road, a police car pulled into the street and the officer stepped out and hailed me down. He proceeded to tell me that I Minnesota law required I ride on the road and that if I was going to be on the sidewalk I needed to go with the flow of traffic. He then asked if I was a cross-country bike rider and I said yes, but that I was currently living in Minnesota and had just returned on my was back for a rest in the Twin Cities. This piqued his interest so I asked him about the relationship between law enforcement and the local immigrant communities. Sergeant William Bolt then proceeded to speak very proudly of the efforts that the police dept. had made to develop a strong and trusting relationship with the local Latino community. He made a point of crediting the police chief with developing policies and incentives for this.When he saw a colleague pass by, he contacted him by radio and asked him to stop by and talk to me. I then met Bob Fritz, the officer responsible for developing relationships with youth in the schools. They made it clear to me that though there was not a formal written policy to this effect, it was their practice not to formally cooperate with ICE because they felt it was important for local police to have a trusting relationship with immigrants so silence and fear did not prohibit communication regarding local law enforcement issues. Sergeant Bolt gave me a few names of others people I could speak with and they sent me on my way.

After meeting with Alondra and Mariano and meeting some of the union organizers for a while I got a sense of the local situation with workers. Since the raids, Swift has had trouble holding on to workers--this is both a labor issue as well as a chilling effect on workers who did not want to be vulnerable to deportation or harassment. I went and met with a local reporter who published a nice story on my trip a few days later in the local paper, the Worthington Globe. The reporter, Amanda Walljasper, was a part-time reporter and full time teacher with the Integration Collaborative, a multicultural initiative of the school district funded by Minnesota's Department of Education. I had heard of this program through several people by this time and took her up on the offer to call the office and see if I could speak with people there.

They invited me over and I had a powerful conversation with four employees. Nancy Landeros, young Mexicana who had moved from Iowa via Texas, Antonio Colindres, an agricultural worker originally from El Salvador, a college student Mr. Lopez y Sebastian, a refugee from the Guatemalan civil war, and Carrie Adams, a long time resident of Worthington of German-Scandinavian descent. (The last three are pictured below, Antonio did not want to be in the picture.) They shared with me the vision and extensive work of the collaborative and its cultural initiatives, including an annual international festival. They also explained how their work varies according to circumstances and that in the immediate aftermath of the raids the offices served as an informal clearinghouse for many support efforts. Each of them acknowledged that their were many people involved in trying to foster positive social relations among and writing different ethnic groups, but that this was a long process. Of course this is only a brief overview of our conversation, but they made it clear that change had to be deliberate and that the overall climate of the country and the recent debacle around immigration reform had only served to arouse suspicion and fear against Latinos without regard for immigration status. They also bemoaned the lack of the deep roots of tensions between Latinos and mainstream America. For instance, according to them, active recruitment of workers to the region continues unabated and thus strong mixed signals result in a fragmented sense of belonging. Carrie acknowledged that change was slow but that she saw a generational shift occurring towards more acceptance.

Worthington is no utopia, but that place doesn't exist. Change is slow, but with hearts and minds working to build stronger cross-cultural relationships built on justice and a common sense of humanity, change can occur.


William Bolt and Bob Fritz.

Reflexiones: Big and Small

From my brother Bobby:
How is your mind?  You must be playing some mental gymnastics at times just to
stay sane.

Yes indeed I do have to play all sorts of mind games to stay focused.
This is mostly during the day while I'm biking as opposed to the
evening when I'm resting or interacting with folks. Some of this I addressed
in my earlier answer to Otto when I described things one does to keep oneself
going beyond fatigue, boredom or pain that comes with riding. But one also
plays these games to keep from getting emotionally down--that is it's
easy to get overwhelmed with the enormousness and emptiness of the open road.
Being physically tired makes one emotionally vulnerable, and it works in the other 
direction as well. I'm hoping to try and document some of this in a future entry.

From my sister Rosemary:
Has this trip been harder than you anticipated? Is this trip something you had to do alone? Or could you have done it with a partner? Are there creature comforts you miss? Have you felt unsafe so far anywhere on this journey?

Yes and no. I knew it would be very hard, but knowing that doesn't make experiencing it any less severe. I can say that in many respects it's gotten easier as I've gotten stronger and learned new strategies for biking hills, eating, keeping my energy up and avoiding pitfalls like running out of water. It's also gotten easier as the rewards accumulate--and by that I mean that by realizing my goals of talking with people, of seeing and experiencing so many good things, I feel like it makes sense, it's affirming. I don't think the trip would have been compromised by being with someone else, in fact it may have been enriched. But I suppose at an individual level it's testing my ingenuity and persistence in ways that may benefit me down the road. As for creature comforts, for sure I missed my own bed and a bath/shower on a regular basis, as well as the ability to just recuperate in my own surroundings, but I haven't exactly been that deprived of basics since I've spent more time in motels than I expected to. I really need to get better at scouring around and finding alternate sites to rest. Truly, the only times I've felt unsafe was once or twice on the road when I was crossing a bridge with narrow shoulders and lots of fast-moving cars. There was one other time near Belvidere, S.D. at a rest stop when a pickup drove behind the rest stop on a back road and slowed down when it got parallel with the bench I was resting on and then turned around and came back and did the same thing. Not knowing what was up with that, I moved to a bench closer to the building and better lit.

From Kamala:

My thought today in terms of blog prompts that you asked for is that bike trips
such as yours may be even harder in a few years as weather becomes less and
less predictable...I heard a doctor/ environmentalist yesterday talking 
about global  warming as disease (off kilter) of the earth. He talked about
our bodies  abilities to heal themselves...(inherent here is also the adjustment
to extreme change such as might  be relevant more for you at the moment) 
Anyway, the earth also has balancing acts to keep it "healthy" but these have
been thrown off by global warming...

I'm not quite sure how to respond to this other than to say that from a
weather perspective this trip hasn't been predictable. I traveled across
the northern region first so I could avoid it in the winter but I didn't
realize it would be so hot. For the first few weeks I was in the midst of a
strong heat wave and most people said it was hotter that it had been in years.
Climate change is slow, so I don't know when or if it will ever get so hot
as to make a trip like this impossible.


From Ben:
I just got back from Cuba a week ago and thought of you after coming across
a small photo of Che at the Museum of the Revolution: he was on a bike--
non-motorized! Apparently, before his more famous motorcycle ride, he took a
several-thousand mile trip throughout his native country of Argentina asking
similar questions about national identity that you are asking and investigating
about the U.S. This trip, which preceded his PanAmerican and then world travels
and activities, raised several questions that may serve as a good prompt. That is,
what is the nature of the national identity you are seeing transformed, and how is
this relating to the resurgent and militantly anti-imperialist Panamericanism
(e.g., Venezuela, Bolivia, Ecuador, the insurgent sectors of Mexico and of course
Cuba)? I ask as much to try to figure these things out as to offer a prompt.


A great question but one that defies any simple or easy explanation. I think that
once we get beyond the dogmatic positions associated with U.S. official nationalism
(patriotism) and reactionary nationalism (nativism), what is left is something that
that is an enormously complex dynamic of accommodation, resistance, assimilation.
I wouldn't say a new nationalism is emerging but I do think that new immigrants
bring a very different sense of nations identity--one that is much more
transnationalist.  So, for instance, they may have dual loyalties. While many may have criticisms 
of the U.S., they also have many things they like about it--this is their new home
even as they retain ties to their homes of origin. I don't think they see these as
being in contradiction to one another as many traditional nationalists 
would have you believe--a love it first and last or leave it mentality that wants
to see national identity as stable and fixed and absolute. I don't know that the
"internationalism" of today is the same as the internationalism of yesteryear such
as existed at the height of anti-colonialist movement of the 20th century. Even the
more successful nationalist movements currently thriving in Latin America today
are cognizant of making distinctions between governments and the people--who they
hold more faith in. In truth, this has a parallel with what I feel like I'm seeing
and hearing from folks thus far. Notwithstanding those folks affiliated with
anti-Latino or anti-immigrant groups, most people on the ground level simply want to
understand what the human implications of new groups will be for them. And if
intermarriage rates and relationships at work and in the churches and schools are
any indication, the fact of the matter is most people are getting along. In fact,
some of them recognize the ways in which are destinies are mutually intertwined.
In that regard, I think that despite the many problems with the discourse of
globalization, the flow of human traffic in these times is leading to the
disintegration of the idea of a stable sense of national identity and culture
because actual interactions and relations with others does not allow folks to
sustain perceptions of difference.

From Gabriel:
One question? We've read through the arduous physical aspects of your journey and
the search for the answers to the various questions you have about the state of
Latin@ization. Where are you as far as your own personal spiritual journey?
I know that you feel that we are all connected, but with the
solitariness of your journey do you feel yourself coming into closer contact with
all around you and even do you feel yourself becoming one with Nature. If you had
these deep spiritual feelings before are they growing, becoming more? I know your
opinion about God, but is this journey changing your mind about God, or a
Source of the Oneness, or a source of the connections? 

Again, a great question but one that I'm not sure I can articulate. I think I have
a much more profound appreciation for nature, but I can't say I feel one with it--
on the other hand, despite a sometimes contentious relationship with it, I do not
feel in opposition to it at all. I find it sad to think of the privatization of
land and the ways in which we, that is most of us, are deprived of having a more
authentic relationship to it because we cannot afford to buy it or because despite
the large areas of parks, we cannot afford to travel to it. I do understand
why making ones living off the land builds a spiritual relationship with it and
all of nature because you both shape it and are at its mercy. Thus far, I must say
that my sense of connectedness with people has been affirmed and strengthened.
I don't have a lot to say about a higher being because I am mostly concerned with
people realizing the goodness in themselves and acting upon it. For me, people
taking action and resisting the anti-humanist and dehumanization of others
would be an enormous stride forward for all humanity.

More pics and travels from Idaho, Wyoming and South Dakota

A llama in Burns, Oregon.



I went to Twin Falls, Idaho from Mountain Home and while the derailer on my bike was being fixed I rented a car so I could see some sights. The Perrine Memorial Bridge (above) crosses the Shoshone River and oversees a beautiful valley the the West, This is the bridge from which the skydivers jump off of in the video below. It's about 480 ft. high. I visited the falls and while looking at a map of the region I saw that about 20 miles away was a former WWII detention center for Japanese Americans. I drove out there and had a difficult time finding it because though there was a historical marker at the turnoff, there wasn't a sign designating the actual site and all that was left was a few ruins of the entrance and visitors waiting room. The surrounding area was farmland. When one recalls that many of these detention camps were mostly tent cities, it makes sense that there would be very little infrastrucure, but the absence of something more substantial to commemorate this sad and horrific history made me feel empty. I tried to imagine what life was like for the detainees. It was hard not to think of how harsh the winters were. Note the historical marker identifies this as Idaho's largest ghost town. What a bizarre and disrespectful designation for a detention center! However, the plaques on the ruins do offer a more critical perspective about how this history should remind us of what happens when people's civil liberties are violated. Something we sorely need to be reminded of more often.





Not too far from Twin Falls on the road to Pocatello.

WYOMING
Much of Wyoming was sparsely populated. Sometimes this made planning tricky because I couldn't assume that I could find places to rest or eat in any given town. I wonder if Emblem was larger in the past, presently it only had about 4 houses and nothing else to designate it as a town. I wonder what the smallest population of a town is in the country. Is there a sign out there somewhere that says Pop 01?


I first saw mention of crazy woman at the above cafe in Ten Sleeps, Wyoming. I thought it was just a humorous name for a woman-owned business, but later I would see many references to it in other business names and markets. I eventually passed the creek somewhere between Buffalo and Gillette . The previous day in Buffalo I'd asked a woman about it and she told me a version of the story having to do with a woman who was left behind by settlers. Of course this made me think of Woman Hollering Creek near Seguin, TX and the legend of La Llorona and the fact that they both had to do with women dealing with death and abandonment. It struck me as a stark example of historical irony and female tragedy. You can find more versions of the story on this website: http://www.travel-to-wyoming.com/buffalo/crazy_woman_creek.htm



After having bike trouble on Big Horn Mountain I went to Gillette to get it fixed. I was extraordinarily tired so I decided to rest for a couple of days and rented a car so I could be more mobile. One of the places I visited which I would have bypassed if only on bike was the Devil's Tower National Monument. As soon as I saw it advertised I recognized it from Close Encounters of the Third Kind and knew I had to go to satisfy my curiosity about all things having to do with life beyond earth. I didn't realize it was a sacred site for indigenous peoples and the awesome magnitude of the tower was beautiful. I walked completely around it and took pictures from many angles. I also saw some cliff climbers going up one side. That was intense.

SOUTH DAKOTA



While I had the car I went to Deadwood and Sturgis because I intended to bike into South Dakota through a more southern route. Deadwood was a very modernized old western town. An plethora of casinos and bars.


Bikes, Bikers from every direction heading towards Sturgis for the big bike rally and accompanying festivities. I appreciated the fact that many bikers saw me as a fellow traveller and took the time to honk and wave. This always gave me a little boost, especially on a back road where there was little else going on. Unfortunately, the festivities were an occasion for every motel in Wyoming, S. Dakota and even western Minnesota to jack up their rates. I paid $95 for a Motel 6 in Gillette, Wyoming!


No doubt I often felt like I was hot in the trail of every summer vacation family as I traversed the west during the middle of summer. In addition to motorcycles, RV's were out in force. I rode into the Blackhills through Hamilton, Wyoming and went east to the towns of Custer and Keystone where the Crazy Horse monument and Mt. Rushmore are located respectively. By this time the heat had dissipated some so it was only in the low 90s and thought there were some steep hills, they were not so steep nor so numerous than what I had encountered before. It made sense to me to go to Crazy Horse first since this was sacred land of native peoples. I cannot tell you the impressiveness of the project based on its sheer size. For details, look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crazy_Horse_Memorial. It was begun in 1948 by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski, who had worked on Mt. Rushmore under Gutzon Borglum. Though the foundation's history of the project tells us that in 1939, Mr. Ziolkowski received a letter of invitation to make the mountain carving from Chief Henry Standing Bear, which stated in part "My fellow chiefs and I would like the white man to know that the red man has great heroes, too" the project remains a subject of controversy among the native community today due to the non-native origins of the project overseers and the foundation caretakers as well as the fact that there are those who see it as being against the spirit of Crazy Horse.

This is not a simple question to be swept aside. However, when one considers the history, artist and purpose of Mount Rushmore, one can appreciate the fact that Crazy Horse Monument dwarfs the national monument. Only from looking on the web did I learn of the sordid past of the sculptor of Mt. Rushmore. Gutzon Borglum not only erected this unfinished government funded monument in tribute to the "founding fathers" responsible for fulfilling Manifest Destiny and U.S. territorial expansion, and thus native decimation, he was also an active Klu Klux Klan member. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Rushmore for more info. Though it's not clear from the pictures, the entire Mt. Rushmore sculpture would fit inside the head of Crazy Horse monument.

After visiting the monuments, I camped out and that night I heard on the radio a broadcast from the Pine Ridge Pow Wow-the grand entry of the dancers. I listened and thought I would make it there by the last day, Sunday. The next day I took a highway paralleling the mountains with plans to stop in a small town just west of Pine Ridge. When I arrived it was still fairly early and I saw a sign for a casino hotel on the reservation just 12 miles away. As I headed east I learned first hand about how strong prairie winds can be, so it took me almost 2 hours to get to the hotel. At the casino I saw a woman wearing a t-shirt with the quote: "We didn't cross the border, the borders crossed us: Native Pride" and I felt an affinity through this slogan. The next day I got a late start and headed towards Pine Ridge. I stopped to rest at a convenience store in Oglala and pressed onward. Because of winds I was making pretty slow time and began to worry about whether or not it made sense to stop at the pow wow since I also wanted to see the Wounded Knee Memorial. In Pine Ridge I asked about lodging and there was none, but then at a Pizza Hut I went in and asked about camping and the young native man there told me--"Just go through the intersection over to where the pow wow is being held and you can camp there for free--there's no charge, this is not Amerika-ka-ka. I said, "I know that's right, I'm glad to be here" and decided to stay there for the night.

I rode around the area a bit and decided on a place to set up camp. Just a few minutes into this as I was setting up my tent, a guy came up to me and asked where I'd ridden from. When I told him I had left from California, he said "Wow, I want to hear more about that." He told me that he lived in Oglala and that he and his family had seen me on the road and he had wondered, "Who is that guy?", "Where's he coming from?" and that his questions must have led me to stop right in front of him. He then invited and insisted that we move my tent to be near his family's and that he would introduce me to everyone. I accepted the invitation and he placed my tent right in the middle of their camp. His name was Jose Cervantes, his dad was from Guadalajara, his mom was full-blooded Apache from New Mexico and he'd grown up on the Mescalero Reservation there with his sisters. He was living in Oglala because he's married a Lakota Sioux Woman (Olivia Yellow Cloud) and he'd been there about 25 years. Jose was in his early 50s. They'd pitched a large canopy over a wood post frame they'd made and had picnic tables, chairs, and plenty of food and drink--which they told me to help myself to. I feasted on Buffalo stew, which was just like caldo de res except for being buffalo meat, and some fry bread. I was welcomed by all family members--an entire clan of extended family of all ages, though Jose seemed to be the oldest and the one who seemed to be held in high regard. What I most appreciated was that I really felt like I was adopted for the day. No awkwardness, they joked and laughed and quibbled as any family would and I had a great time. I met spouses, sisters, cousins, nephews, sons, daughters, and in-laws--all of whom were having a great time. One portion of the family was up from New Mexico and they spoke a lot about how their pow wows are a bit different: no entrance fee, it was okay to drink alcohol, and so on. For a while I thought I might of even go into the pow wow site because there was so much to enjoy just under their tent. Eventually Jose decided we would go to the carnival and ride one ride, which he and I did together.

Jose had been in the marines for six years and had traveled to Okinawa, Africa, and Europe. He and his sister Maria told me a bit about his life growing up, which sounded very harsh as his father had died when they were young and his mother was an alcoholic. He said he basically raised the family from the time he was eleven. His youngest sister (Maria) was a stay at home infant and he said one of the primary motivations for staying in school was so he could save half his lunch and bring her food to eat. Maria is a retired (disabled) security office from the schools in Mescalero, but she runs security for their pow wows each year. Her youngest son, Flaco, had driven up with her. He will began college this fall. They knew some Spanish and joked around by calling me ese and using vernacualr slang when they could. I had a great time and at the end of the night, close to midnight we went to go see the dances. Darlene's cousins were singing and drumming and we saw the performance of the rabbit dance, another form of couple dancing, and the fancy dancing which ended in a dance off of a chicken dance. Beautiful dancing, beautiful garments, and beaustiful people.

At some point I asked Jose how life on Pine Ridge was, that I knew it was one of the poorer reservations. He said that things had been improving. that most people could get work and that the casino opening up had helped a lot by creating some good jobs for a number of people.

I stayed up until about 1:30 at which time I excused myself, crawled into my little tent, took some notes on a recorder and went to sleep to the sound of drums. The next morning I awoke and they were up before me sitting around the table. Jose and his family had gone back to sleep at their house in Oglala, but we'd said our goodbyes the night before. I got some advice from Oliver, Jose's brother-in-law, about possible routes to take once I went to the memorial and left.




After stopping to get some breakfast at the gas station I headed out towards Wounded Knee and made it there in an hour and a half or so. The memorial itself was modest, but knowing the history, I felt humbled and saddened to be confronted with yet another example of government decimation of people without any regard for the sanctity of life. It's this history that makes me have little respect for those who would like to proclaim that we're a nation of laws that promotes freedeom and social justice. I was honored to see the graves and was surprised to see so many who'd served in the military, dating back to WWI. I was also humbled by witnessing an elder woman in her 80s who said she'd moved away from Pine Ridge at 18 and is now living in Wichita, KS. She walked the path around the monument praying and crying in honor of her ancestors.


From there I went to the town of Martin, South Dakota and realized I was too far to make it to anywhere that might have lodging or campgrounds, so I checked into the only motel in town. I had a good conversation with the manager, Rudy Requejo, a mexicano originally from Nebraska. His granparents had immigrated to the US in the 30s. I asked Rudy about immigrants in the state and he told me that there were some doing field work but their public presence was minimal. He said there were no controversial issues with immigration in the state because the numbers were small and the real concern was with the native populations. But he said, in his opinion, that one of the reasins this doesn't get addressed is because of the denial of the persistence of racism.

I asked him where the grocery store was because I wanted fresh fruit--a watermelon. And we agreed that I could come back and talk to him some more later. However, by the time I ate and rested it was late and the next morning I wanted to get an early start. I picked up his card and plan to write him--I told him I would send him a book on Chicanos as he was reading a book called AZTEC by Gary Jennings.

For two days I faced strong prairie winds that left me tired and frustrated because I hoped to move faster once I hit flat terrain. I decided to cut up north towards I-90 to see if the winds would lessen. Immediaely I began to move faster with the wind at my back but the road I was on ended and I had to go a 23 mile stretch on gravel. I made it to a rest stop near Belvedere and settled down for the night.

The next day, I got off to an early start and went to a rest stop called 1800s Town, which was purely tourist. I ate breakfast and encountered some African A,merican bikers from Florida who were part of a Buffalo Soldiers Brigade.

The next two days I flew because I did get away from the wind. For two days I went about 90 miles and then on the third I went 170 staying at rest stops along the highway. My intention had been to stop in Sioux Falls but once I arrived there it was early and I was only 10 miles from the Minnesota border, so I rested and continued on. An interview had been arranged for me in Worthington, about 45 miles into Minnesota, so I decided to try and make it all the way since I needed a shower badly as well as to wash my clothes. I ended up having to ride into the dark and arrived in Worthington about 9:30. A triumphant day.

I'll catch you up on my experience in Worthington next entry. Above is a picture of the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota.