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| Map of Travels |
| 2005 - Journal 8 |
| Worms, Water and Friends. . . John Murphy, affectionately know as the “Worm Man”, loves worms. More accurately he loves worm casings. Worm casings? Okay, let’s lower our verbal boundaries and call it what it is . . . Worm shit. Unlike two and four legged animals whose fecal matter has a nose wrinkling tendencies, worm manure does not. It’s dry and odor free and when run through the fingers looks and feels like ground coffee. My friend Halle Klein and I visited the Shaker Heights, Ohio, organic green market on Saturday and were greeted with a large crowd milling through four rows of white canopies lining both sides of Cleveland’s Shaker Rapid Transit tracks, offering everything from bread, mushrooms, lettuce, milk, eggs, hand made throw rugs, jewelry and even plant fertilizer . . . Yes, worm casings. John Murphy, a friendly fellow, stood behind a table stacked with gaily colored plastic bags filled with worm manure, and greeted us with a genuine Irish smile. Halle had several questions about the use of the fertilizer for her flowers and vegetable garden. She was so intrigued with the product and his discourse on worms she made a date to visit his worm farm in Painesville. “Yeah,” I thought to myself, I’d be cool walking through acres of worm infested mulch. How ignorant this junior geezer can be about so much in life and this was just another example. The worm farm is located in warehouse style building and was unlike anything I could have imagined. Tons of worm casings sat in gigantic plastic bags ready for packaging. There was another pile of casings drying in the corner of the building. Close by was pile of leachings, leaf humus left to age and with a mixture of fine grains used to feed the worms. He farms two types; African Night Crawlers and Red Wigglers. Both are known as composting worms. I’ve probably told you more than you want to know but let me add that the worms are kept in large covered plastic boxes filled with the humus and grain. Stacked chest high in an air conditioned room to keep the worms at a constant temperature. There are dozens of these containers and every two weeks what was leaf humus and grain is now worm manure, aka casings. Last year he sold 20,000 pounds, 10 tons, of castings to nurseries, landscapers and home gardeners. Plants love castings. Aside from trace elements and micro-nutrients, castings have from four to ten times the nitrogen, potassium, magnesium, potash and phosphorus of topsoil. John’s day job as a driver for Laketran Bus Company fills his workdays but he manages after hour visits to his “farm” at least three days a week with the help of his brother-in-law. He said last year they broke even but this year will make a profit. An interesting aside . . . John’s wife has absolutely no interest in worms and will not visit the farm. * * * * * * * * * My trip to Mentor, Ohio was punctuated by several stops. First the Butterfly rally with Tom Hansen and other sidecarists and then four days with my friends, Carla and Psyche at their home in the high desert of Tularosa, New Mexico. Grand people. Kind and generous to a fault, with a gentle contentment that fills their lives with love. Always glad to see them and always sad to say goodbye. My trip north began on Route 54 in Tularosa for awhile paralleled the White Sands Missile Range, home of “Trinity Site,” ground zero for the first atomic explosion. After Carrizozo, Route 54 arcs to the northeast through the tiny towns of Corona and Vaughn when it butts into I-40 at Santa Rosa, following the interstate for 55 miles until it branches northeast, crossing into Texas and the Central Time Zone. There’s not much in this country to please the eye. The roads, in relatively fair shape stretch to the horizon. Hour after hour Sunshine’s odometer recorded the empty miles as massive cloud formations, some with ominous black bottoms, marched in ragged formation across the landscape. Fortunately no rain. Crossing into New Mexico at the beginning of May, there’d been no appreciable rain. A few minor sprinkles but the roads remained dry, thankfully, as did your reporter. The late April storms, as we moved west across Oklahoma, were to be remembered. In time I reached Liberal, Kansas, home of the Mid-America Air Museum, the countries fifth largest display of aircraft. Liberal was the site of the U.S. Army’s B-25 Liberator training center during WWII. It was a large complex that all but shut down after the war. Beech Aircraft a major presence before the war closed a few years later. Today the museum boasts not only war machines but a large collection of general aviation aircraft, housed in a large modern hanger-like building in a well organized display. I spent several nostalgic hours ogling and photographing the planes of my youth. Sixty miles later I stopped in Greensburg just a bit east of the where Routes 54 and183 intersect. Greensburg, home of the world’s largest freshwater hand dug well, is one hundred and nine feet deep and 32 feet wide. It is one big hole and certainly shook me when looked down through the protective grating. I remember how surprised I was as I uttered “holy manure.” Literature explained that the well was dug to supply the new railroad’s steam engines. The immense underground water source that supplied the well is known as the Ogallala Aquifer. The Ogallala Aquifer, North America’s largest underground freshwater source underlies six states: Nebraska, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Texas accounting for 95 percent of all U.S freshwater underground. Before I editorialize about the sad state of our water supply let me explain that these journals don’t allow me to ruminate about politics, religion or sex (well sex possibly, but I’d have to have several drinks to loosen up my Irish inhibitions). Researching Greensburg’s well I ran across references about the Ogallala Aquifer. This from a BBC news story on the World Water Crisis. “Since 95% of U.S freshwater is underground, farmers in the Texan High Plains pump groundwater faster than rain can replenish it. Water tables are dropping. North America’s largest aquifer, the Ogallala is being depleted at the rate of 12 billion cubic meters a year. Total depletion to date amounts to some 325 billion cubic meters; a volume equal to the annual flow of 18 Colorado Rivers. The Ogallala stretches from Texas to northern Nebraska and waters one fifth of U.S irrigated land. Many farmers in the High Plains are turning away from irrigated agriculture as they become aware of the hazards of over-pumping and realize water is not an endless supply. * * * * Route 54/400 flowed east through Pratt, then into the outskirts of Wichita, a nice mid-western city, (remembered forever by my generation for the Saturday matinees that filled the screen with the newest western epic, defining our intrinsic need for white hatted heroes) the earlier home of successful merchants, cattlemen, cowboys, gun fights, muddy streets, wooden sidewalks and of course brawling saloon patrons and their party girls. Wyatt Earp began his career as a policeman with the Wichita Police department. Witchita of today far removed from its early history, is where Route 54 spun north, joining with 77, until El Dorado. Route 54, now by itself, ran gently east through large sprawling farms to Iota. Fort Scott beckoned and 20 miles later I rode into Nevada, Missouri, home of at least 10,000 folks who think they’re some of the friendliest in the world. Interesting billboard and from my short visit the sentiment appears quite accurate. Nevada is also home of Cottey College, a lovely, neat, well tended campus for woman, offering a two year degrees in liberal arts and science. I was surprised from the size and beauty of the campus that it’s only a two year school. I stopped to feed Sunshine before booking a room late that afternoon. As I put my card into the pump a man walked up shouting, “You WIN! Yessir, you definitely WIN.” I had no idea what he was talking about. I hadn’t purchased a lottery ticket since I’d left Florida. The dumb look I sometimes project must have confused him because he said it again. “You win, man . . . Just look at this thing.” He held out both hands as if he was cradling the hack. “I gotta tell you it doesn’t get any better than this,” he said as he walked back and forth and then made a few circles around a rather tired and dirty Miss Sunshine. Ahhh, the light seeped into my junior- size geezer brain as I shifted mental gears. Okay, I finally got it. I’m just a little slow. In his eyes I’d won the lottery, Vegas high stakes poker. . . All the marbles and free tickets to Jackie’s Palace of Pleasure. The man was more vocal than most but had the good taste to recognize Sunshine’s finer points. That could be Sunshine’ s new mantra as she offers beauty and modesty in equal measure. The next morning I was on the road by 8 AM heading south on Route 71, through Carthage, by-passing Joplin, the birthplace and home of the late actor Robert Cummings. (He’s been gone awhile but I’ve always enjoyed his movies. For some obscure reason when I think of Joplin, Cummings comes to mind).Route 60 led me east across the state through a part of Missouri I’d never seen. I stopped at Poplar Bluff for fuel and Sikeston for a serving of lupper (combo of lunch and supper). I had a hankering to ride through Cairo, Illinois, once considered, if memory serves, as America’s most sinful city; a sorry child of prohibition. Frankly there wasn’t much to capture the imagination. A number of businesses were closed or boarded up. Vibes weren’t good. A city with a sordid past that had seen better days. I was on my way for a short visit with the Hannigans and Andersons at Hannigan Motorsports in Murray, Kentucky. Then on to Clarksville Honda for service. I reached Murray late the next morning and rode directly to the factory. There have been big changes. David has increased his showroom space by two thirds and moved his paint shop and trike assembly to another building. Now a very nice looking, efficient factory. The Hannigans and Andersons invited me to dinner but explained that first there had to be a 20 minute ride (The Appetizer Ride) to stimulate the bodies digestive juices. Dave, Herb and Ruth (Reno) Anderson led the way through some of western Kentucky’s traffic-free back- country roads. I was offered a choice of bikes. (I think initially there’d been a discussion about whether the old guy could remember how to ride a two wheeler). I choose a Honda VFR; a V-4 sports/touring bike similar to the one I owned several years before. Handling, as you can imagine, was much faster with no need to “steer” into turns. After twenty minutes of chasing Ruth’s trike, (I never did see David and Herb until we reached the restaurant). No doubt it’d take at least a hundred miles to get my “two-wheel” legs back. My ego wasn’t dented because I repeated over and over, “I’m a tourer not a racer. I’m a tourer, not a racer.” I left Murray’s Days Inn for an early morning two hour jog to Clarksville to have Sunshine’s fluids changed and a valve check. Just think, 64,000 miles and only two valves had to be adjusted and for the very first time. Incredible. That’s the quality of engineering I really admire. After a chat with the owner, Ed Krass, Mr. Energy, himself, I left for Lexington, Missouri for a visit with daughter #2, Armen Davis-Wood. We enjoyed our time together, trying to make up for my once or twice a year visits. We entertained and were entertained by two new friends, Wanda and Gary Lantz of Kansas City, Kansas. I met the Lantzes in New Mexico during Tom Hansen’s Butterfly Rally. Fun folks. Chatting them up at the start of the rally they learned I had a daughter living in Lexington (one of their favorite riding destinations) and suggested we get together. So the Lantzes rode their Ural sidecar rig to Lexington and after a tour of Armen and Ben’s 1860’s home, we took them to a local restaurant for lunch. Armen hadn’t eaten there before and was surprised the food was so good. We got along well, chatting up the afternoon, so well the Lantzes invited us to visit them at their Kansas home the next day.The weather was warm and rain free so our 50 plus mile ride to Kansas City and return was most pleasant, especially for me as I rarely have a passenger to share sights and sounds of the road. Their cozy home had a number of Frank Lloyd Wright touches, they being fans and all. Our lunch at the Nelson-Atkins Art museum’s Rozelle Court restaurant in downtown Kansas City, Missouri was buffet style and absolutely five star. Wonderful room with high ceilings and lovely columns. I don’t get into classy places on my budget so I was most appreciative. Nice folks, the Lantzes and of course they ride a sidecar. I do believe in being nice to folks, you never know when they’ll invite you to lunch. |
| FOLLOW THE YELLOW LINE Motorcycle Touring with Stuart Davis and His Side Car www.followtheyellowline.com |