Mantle Rock

The rain had subsided by the time I left Princeton, KY and headed through some really old back roads. At one point along the big hill on Edd Sopp Rd, I pulled up exhausted and noticed a whole flight of wild turkey feathers in the road exactly where I had stopped. Instinctively, I knew that they were for the bike. I thanked Spirit and the bird, fastened them to the left pannier and sat back to inspect. After 7 years of riding the bike across two continents, the Silver Turkey had finally received her name.

The black pavement of these back roads turned to broken up old roadway and then gravel. It was hard going but the roads were thankfully mostly free of barking and chasing dogs. I was definitely deep in the backcountry of Kentucky.

I biked approximately 40 miles that afternoon (70 total for the day) and passed only a few gas stations and abandoned storefronts. I was thanked for my efforts with this beautiful rainbow in the town of, check this out, Lola, KY.

History, intuition, and the weather told me that something big was waiting for me at Mantle Rock. My initial intention was to fast for the day in honor of the starvation that the Cherokee experienced. By the end of the morning I had no energy, none at all. Biking requires fuel. I decided to eat meager rations of only small amounts of peanut butter and granola bars. I was definitely famished by days end.

Mantle Rock is an unusual rock formation. Its the largest natural bridge in the east where the Cherokee waited for safe boat passage across the Ohio River. The Peter Hildebrande detachment waited here for about 2 weeks in the dead of winter in 1839 for the river to thaw out enough to pass. Many lives were lost here as these people froze to death. One of the more tragic parts of the entire trail of tears story.

I walked about a mile through thick forests, some of which was along the old trail of tears roadbed, by a small dank creek where I was greeted by several hundred fireflies despite the fact that it was still well before sunset. Eventually the arch appeared. The whole area was so dense with trees and rocks that very little light shine through, symbolic of what seemed energetically left of the tragedy that had occurred in this area.

I made my usual offering to the dead souls in this area and opened the door for them to share with me anything that they wanted to about their experience. Noone was in the area. The nearest house was at least a few miles away. I decided to setup camp here for the night and see what these souls were going to offer. Anticipating some sort of visual experience, I was surprised when the forrest erupted in a cacophony of animal sounds immediately after I finished up a cup of mugwort tea, traditional for Appalachian seers. It started with a single unusual bird cry from a creature right above me. I was genuinely frightened. I realized that I was camped next to a creek with tall grasses, probably many snakes and some of the sounds seemed like yipping coyotes. My body tensed with fear. It was just me and the forrest. If I did run into trouble, there would be little chance for help with the nearest house over a mile away by bike. I breathed. The sounds of the forest got louder. Frogs, birds, insects, mice, armadillo, and everything imaginable and completely unimaginable as well. I started to recognize what they were doing. They were all wailing in grief. The spirits of the dead souls were sharing their grief with me through these animals. I was moved. I couldn’t believe how loud it was. I couldn’t believe how intense it was. Did I sleep? Not a wink until the sound subsided several hours later.