Day 27: Up at 4:20am, depart at 6:20 am. Proceed three miles to Harveyville, arrive approximately 7:30am and speak with folks at the convenience store about faith march, then go to the city park to cook my breakfast. As usual, I park my wagon so the sign on the back (faithmarch.com) is plainly visible, and soon, a man appears from the house that my wagon is most directly facing. He is Hispanic, with tattoos on his arms, and he doesn’t look happy. He throws a firecracker straight out onto the walk (in my direction) and it explodes whereupon he turns and goes back inside, leaving me to wonder if he was trying to spook my horse. While I cook lunch, a friendly man (whose name I forgot) came and spoke with me. After the man departed, the Hispanic man came out and threw another firecracker, gave me a dirty look, and went back in his house. Now I’m wondering if I’m going to have trouble with the Hispanic population. And before that, on my last day in Eskridge, I realized that most of the hits on my website were from folks looking at pictures, and not reading the flyers. Also disappointing was that big beautiful church with that tiny congregation, most of who were advanced in age. Yeah, I’m feeling tired, not tired as in physically tired (I got use to that days ago), but spiritually tired. I do not question my message. I know I’m speaking the truth, and I know God will make good from my effort so long as I keep faith - but is anyone listening? I pack up my breakfast camp and drive back to the business district. I speak with a few people, and tell them that I’m disappointed (but not because of Harveyville). Then, after purchasing a bale of hay, I leave town by way of Walton Road.
Walton Road, just outside of Harveyville.
On Walton Road, I stop to ask for water and meet Larry, a kind old farmer with whom I have a brief but good conversation about horse faming. I then continue east in the knowledge that Highway 335 (the Kansas Turnpike connecting Topeka to Wichita) is somewhere not far ahead. And although it had been my understanding that Walton Road went under the Turnpike, Larry has told me it's an overpass. I can only hope he's wrong! Arriving there, I see my worst fear, an overpass. Crossing a bridge over calm water is one thing, but crossing a four lane highway with semi-trucks flying underneath is something else altogether.
With semi-trucks passing underneath, I say a prayer.
Beginning Overpass Crossing.
Click on links below to see videos of overpass crossing.
Continuing east, I stop at a farmhouse and ask for a place to camp. There's no one living at the house, so I ask a young man working in the farm compound; "is the boss man around," and he said his uncle was nearby. His uncle, whose name I did not get, said it was fine for me to camp there. But the farm compound didn’t have al good place to camp near water. Nevertheless, the uncle starts to show me to the water hydrant when I ask if there might be anything better down the road. Looking like a light bulb had gone off in his head, he says that in fact there is a real good place, and he tells me to keep going straight ahead about 2½ miles. So I proceeded there, and it's exactly what the doctor ordered; great shade, water from a creek, excellent grass for Reba, and most important of all - a chance for me to have some alone time with my God, so that I can get myself back on track.
An friendly old farmer named Tom, who I assume to be the uncle’s father, and head of the family , stops in his tractor, and we have a brief but good conversation. Tom says it is fine for me to camp there.
Camp on Tom's land. Cool shade all afternoon,
and almost no traffic.
and almost no traffic.