Don't Expect Me to Master Japanese Poetry

August 11, 2013

Circle, Montana

MY DAY IN HAIKU

Crossed the Missouri

Long treeless hills and valleys

Wheat fields and hay bales.

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A good Haiku should need no further interpretation. The poetry should speak for itself. Yes, that would be a GOOD Haiku. In the case of THIS Haiku, I shall deconstruct the poem as if I was a junior-high English teacher who is under the mistaken impression that anyone cares what it means.

Line 1: I left my longtime companion, Highway 2, and turned south on state highway 13 (AKA, The Big Sky Backcountry Byway.) That road immediately took me over the Missouri River--the river of my heroes, Lewis and Clark.
Line 2: Long ups and downs. Up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, etc. That was the ride all day long.
Line 3: The landscape for 99% of the up and down ride consisted of vast crops of wheat or long grass. Most of the grass had been mowed and rolled up into huge five-foot hay bales. There were thousands of bales scattered as far as the eye can see. About 40-miles into the ride, I stopped to watch one of those hay balers at work. The machine slowly grazes back and forth across the land. It eats and eats and eats all of the grass in its path for a few minutes, then it slows down, opens its rear end, and dumps a 1,000-pound present onto the ground. It repeats that process over and over, just like a big motorized cow. I was so fascinated that I sat at the side of the road for 20 minutes, drinking water, chewing on beef jerky, and watching the baler/cow eat and purge.

On the left is the retired Missouri River bridge. The new route over the river doesn't appear to be a bridge at all.

The bridge wasn't the only retired bit of history. In this photo, it's a retired prairie schoolhouse.

Up for a mile, down for a mile--at least 20 times. I think I'd prefer a 20-mile uphill followed by a 20-mile downhill.

Thousand pound presents--the product of the hay baler's incredible digestive system.

Haiku is a very rigid form of poetry. It does not allow enough syllables to tell you about the group of seven pronghorn antelope I saw in one of the grassy fields. Nor could I complain about the wind. Nor could I mention Frank, another recent retiree who is riding the entire length of the Northern Tier from Bar Harbor to Anacortes. We had a couple beers and some great conversation in what appeared to be the only shady spot in all of Circle, Montana.

I suppose I COULD compose another Haiku. I'll spare you the agony.

Today's ride: 53 miles (85 km)
Total: 1,150 miles (1,851 km)

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