Download a half-hour radio interview with me.

A few weeks ago I was invited by Larry Matthews, a radio producer operating out of Washington DC, to do an interview about my interest in Nebraska. I chose mostly to talk about the trips that inspired the two books above. (Both are available on amazon.) You can find them here 

The finished piece went out earlier this week, and you can download it here (I'm first up.):

https://pod.co/impact-radio-usa/matthews-and-friends-4-13-20

Hope you enjoy listening as much as I did talking.

Chainsaw Phil is Alive and Well and Living in East Yorkshire

I’m often being asked, what happened to Chainsaw Phil, the guy who visited me in the Red House on the Niobrara when I was staying down there? (http://amzn.to/1Pfivgx)

Regular readers may remember that he’s the kind of guy who will stand on the hood of your Chevy Blazer without a by-your-leave in order to get a better look at a passing freight train:

 

 

The Chainsaw, scanning the horizon for freight trains, 2011

He’s also the kind of guy who’ll chop down any tree you don’t like the look of, help fix the plumbing, or hire a plane to fly over the ranch and upper reaches of the river. (https://walkinonnails.blogspot.com/2011/05/we-nearly-didnt-make-it-and-i-have-to.html)

I never liked that tree, bang up against the back door

 

And he is due enormous credit for putting up the definitive, and excellent, guide to the Old Jules Trail (http://www.old-jules-trail.com/trail.html) -  the first such that actually gets you around the River Place, the Orchard Place and the site of the Well Incident before sundown and with your sanity intact.

I caught up with Phil at the weekend. I try to call on him (or get him up to our place) a couple of times a year at least. We drink beer, go over the many sound reasons why we ought to be running the world, and draw up lists of people who will be locked up (or worse) when we do. We also light fires, and investigate the deep recesses of his several garages and outbuildings. He keeps all manner of good things hidden away there.

His latest acquisition is a gem. It’s a 1933 Austin 12/4 Harley.

Ain't that a beaut?

Not satisfied with rolling it out from its lair and getting me to tug on the choke while he fired up the old lady, he decided we should go for a ride and visit – not his local, whose owner is on holiday, but the Middleton Arms at North Grimston, about 5 or 6 miles away, over the hills.

 

Showing off the new-fangled 'trafficator'

We set off at a stately 28 mph, and she was soon rattling along at 37 when, on top of the Wolds, with the light failing and the temperature hovering around 6 degrees (43 in old money), she resolutely refused to change gear.

So there we were, the pair of us, combined age well over 130, shivering and grunting as we pushed her back and forth across the road, praying that no farmers’ sons were out and about impressing their girlfriends at 90 mph (which is what the young bloods do in rural East Yorks on a Saturday evening).

We executed a laboured three-point turn, got her nose pointing downhill, gave her a shove, and hopped in (thanking God as we did so for running boards). Coasting at 15, 20 then 25 mph, the dear old thing finally consented to engage third gear and behave nicely.

 

The pub. Kind of quaint, isn't it?

We got to the pub, sank a couple of quick ones, returned home and tucked her up in bed.

Good night, my dear.

Over a hearty dinner, (the lad can cook too) Chainsaw reminded me that we had yet to inspect his other recent purchase, a 1953 Austin Somerset.  

Unfortunately, she wasn't roadworthy this weekend

 

I admired it, but declined the offer of another motoring adventure. Suddenly, an evening by the fireside seemed far more appealing.

The Chainsaw makes a mean fire

 

Memories of Nebraska (2)

The passage of time

 

 

One of the things I enjoy about Nebraska is that so much of its recent history is on the surface. I took this picture on a neighbour's ranch when I was staying in a hunting lodge in Cherry County. That was 2011. I'll be interested to see whether the wagon is still holding up. I kinda doubt it.



 

A short break in rural Nebraska

I left Red Cloud Saturday morning and drove for five hours, mostly through fog and drizzle, to arrive midday at Ainsworth, where I visited my good friends Keevin and Dottie Arent. Keevin's dad grew up in the red house (as featured in my book The Red House on the Niobrara) and later bought land in the Ainsworth area.

After taking it easy Saturday afternoon we hit the road Sunday morning and took a tour of the ranch land where my host grew up. He knows that area intimately and is a mine of information on the people who used to, or still do, live there. Of course, as in any agricultural area, it's often a story of the way things used to be - where the apple orchards were, the peaches or mulberries, the fishing lakes, the best hunting spots, the old wooden houses now completely erased, the occasional barn still standing. We grow older, and things change. Sometimes it's really quite poignant.

Before we left Highway 20 we swung by the site of the old Army Air Field, now the municipal airport - which is where I photographed this rather amusing picture:

From there we drove a little further west, and called in at Johnstown, where the 'Hanover' scenes for the movie of Willa Cather's 'O, Pioneers!' were shot. More relevant to our immediate needs, the town still has an active bar, The L-Bow Room, where we enjoyed a cool beer. So nice not to be in a hurry - or driving, for that matter.


The L-Bow Room a handy place for a quiet beer on a Sunday morning.

Leaving Johnstown, we went on down to cross the Niobrara at Norden Bridge and follow the north bank. The scenery was all blue (sky) and yellow (leaves), a delightful outlook. We drove as far as Meadville, where we stopped at a wonderful riverside joint I remembered from a previous visit.

 



Great place for a lunch - if they're open.

 

We lingered over a beer (Fat Tire in my case), a steak sandwich (with cheesy potatoes), a drop more of the good stuff and a plate of cherry pie a la mode. It's a super place, and although the sun was shining there was a nip in the air, so we were glad they'd had the good sense to fire up the cast-iron stove. Speaking for myself, I could easily have put my head on the table and had a little nap, but, to reference Robert Frost, we had 'miles to go before we slept'... back over the river.

.

 



This morning it was definitely Monday - no disputing the fact -, and back to work for this writer. I took my leave around 9.30 and drove slowly down to Kearney where, this evening, I entertained a small gathering at the city library to the story of how I ended up being a debut novelist at 67. Before they dropped off I made them listen to a few extracts from Cody, The Medicine Man and Me. Tomorrow I head for Omaha, where I'll be giving a talk at the Bookworm, 6 p.m.. It's meant to be quite the happening place in town.

 

More in due course.