Back Tracking

Getting to Lubbock to see some old friends was refreshing.  I was ready for a break from the quietness.  I couldn't get Guthrie off my mind though.  Something about running into Jammye had stuck with me for the next couple of days.  I wanted to go back to feed this curiosity.

After meeting just 5 people from the small town, I was interested in meeting more.  So after a full weekend of professional drinking, tailgating, and barbequing in Lubbock...come Monday, I was ready to head back toward the Pitchfork Ranch...  to see what life was like on the range.  To understand how people survive.  Discovering their struggles.  Learning about the land and the economy.  Most of all spending time with more of these loving people that opened their hearts and homes to me, in the most unexpected place.  

On my way back East, I was in a cloudy mood.  I don't know if it was an overdose of football in the past 48 hours, or if it was the 5 minutes of Fox News I saw the night before...but I was feeling pretty down.  I also had mixed feelings about back tracking... in the first bike ride, earlier in the year, we stuck to a schedule, pretty religious...mostly.  So deciding to turn around, in the midst of changing seasons, was a pretty bold move, I guess.  On the other hand, it is something I didn't have the time to do on the first trip.  Something greater told me it would be worth my time.

I spent the night in Dickens on Monday night.  To make the time go by, I chatted and charged my phone in the old jailhouse built in 1909.  The woman working dispatch, Sherill told me a little about the jail's history.  She told me a little about her life growing up as an only child, working on the farm with her father.  She graduated with only a handful of kids in her class, and has been working law enforcement since then.  She was kind enough to give me a small tour of the downstairs area, including the historical hanging gallow, inside the jail... (I would post pictures, but she kindly asked me not to, for security purposes...you will just have to come see for yourself!)
The jail was pretty spooky at night.  Read a bit more about it here..

http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~txdicken/jail.htm

Dickens jail makes for a few good, old fashion jail break stories in the wild wild west.

I left the jail after I rinsed off in the disturbingly cold natured shower, embeded in the single cell downstairs.

Across the road, I set up my tent on a patch of grass.  Hidden from the illumination of the few lights in town.  I left the tent open on one side, facing the highway and the jailhouse.  The air was nice and it wasn't too windy or cold.  Around 12 or so, I closed shop for the night, and slept deeply until about 5 AM.  I was startled by something running past my tent, close to where I had leaned my bike up against the City Hall.  I stopped breathing for a few minutes to try and figure out what it might be.  I listened, but didn't hear much more expect for distant barks and howls.  The smell of wet dog lingered for a few minutes... after I was able to relaxed again, it didn't take long for me to get back to sleep.

Dickens City Hall

I was packing up camp a couple of hours later, before sunrise.  Around 7:45 I was ready to head back out on the road.  I went back to the jailhouse to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.  An officer and another Dispatch women, Anne, greeted and welcomed me in.  As the officer headed out,  Anne, a beautiful black, strong, women, invited me to sit and have some coffee.  So I did...  I asked Anne about her life and how she got to sitting behind that desk.

Anne was one of 10 children.  She lived in the canyons with her family in a town not far from Dickens.  She was a hillbilly she said... her and her bothers and sisters would run the canyons... killing rattle snakes... exploring the land.  She grew up, hunting food with her kin.  The wildlife roaming through the same canyons she adventured through, daily, would feed the family.  They would not waste any part of the carcus, like many other resorceful families...Anne learned how to prepare many tipes of poultry dishes.  She said Any part of any animal you find out here.. you can bet, i've had it."  My imagination could only go so far...  She told me about her kids and how successful they have become.  Anne has been in law informent for many years as well... she use to transport criminals from one jail to the next, through many countys.  Some of her stories kept me on my toes... making me anxious just listening to some of the people she had to work with... on the other side of the cage.  Anne is a faithful, joyful woman.  I'm grateful to have had the chance to chat with her for a short while, and wont soon forget her smile.

I had about 15 miles to go before I returned to Pitchfork.  Tuesday, my spirits were brighter.  I was still feeling unsure about the back tracking, knowing, that the weather was only going to get worse in the north west as days past... but when I got to the ranch things started to turn around.