Kansas to South America on a Bicycle: Adventures of Anthropology student - Jordan Thomas

on September 18, 2014

The K-State Anthropology student who lived at Meadowlark Hills, Jordan Thomas, has embarked on a new journey. Jordan and his companions set out from Atchison, Kanas to South America on a bicycle earlier this summer. The following are portions from his third online blog entry as they continue their journey:

by Jordan Thomas
July 18, 2014

We crossed the border into Mexico with an almost superstitious exhilaration. It was a feeling that reminded me of my childhood, when I would turn off the lights in our basement and flee upstairs with my heart pounding. I knew then that there was nothing in the dark to be frightened of, but horror movies had created this fear. Crossing the border I knew that there was nothing to really be afraid of, but the people of South Texas had painted such vivid pictures of various monstrosities that I could not help but feel exhilarated.

Bicycling through South Texas was like nothing I have ever experienced. The blazing desert dreamscape combined with a complicated social situation, created a feeling like I had stumbled into some topsy-turvy story. We would try to wake early and bike as far as possible before the heat became unbearable, spending the afternoons searching small towns for advice about safe border crossing and spending evenings searching for campsites that wouldn't attract the border patrol.
The search for our first campsite was a bit discouraging. South Texas is full of unused land, but the ranchers there feel the need to surround every inch of it with enormous fences and reserve the right to shoot you if you cross the fence. We decided to just risk the border patrol and pitch our tents in the grass off of a side road.

We were beginning to unpack our gear when a truck pulled up next to us. A large woman eyed us curiously before asking if we're lost. I found this question to be pretty comical as I followed her gaze to our loaded bikes. I suppose that we are quite lost, in a sense, but it is intentional.

This woman told us to follow her down the road, where she unlocked a gate and allowed us to camp on her ranch. After warning us to be careful for rattlesnakes, wild hogs, and not to get scared if the neighbors start shooting things, she left us to enjoy a pleasant evening sitting around our fire watching the moon rise over the cacti.  

The next day we woke much later than planned,  forcing us to bike through the heat of the day. After about 40 miles the heat was nearly unbearable, but there was absolutely no shade in sight. I parked my bike at an isolated intersection and sat on the gravel, which felt more like coals against my legs. I draped my shemaugh over my head for a little reprieve, and drank a few drops of water which was running frighteningly low and probably nearing boiling temperatures. A man stopped long enough to tell me that I'm crazy.

The desert scrubland stretched into the distance in all directions, like some blazing prehistoric wasteland of dark green and gold.  As I was cooked, my mind wondered into the minds of all of the humans stumbling the other direction through this same harsh territory. I felt my own physical condition and attempted to imagine traversing this land on foot, without water, while avoiding border patrols and an overly armed population that would shoot me like I'm an animal. My heart went out to the immigrants in a way that was much deeper than legal and political rhetoric.

I was reassured by the fleeting traces of human kindness that I did come across. I had earlier seen a statue of the Virgin Mary standing regally by the side of the road, apparently a random decoration. Hidden behind the virgin was a stash of bottled water and a wad of cash to keep a poor immigrant alive just a little longer on their journey.

Look for more excerpts from Jordan’s blog in future Messengers. If you’d like to visit his webpage, go to jordancthomas123.blogspot.com.