Donkey, generosity make cross-country trek easier

The equipment on the donkey had to have been stacked at least seven feet high. At the very top of the pile was what looked like a giant sled, holding everything in. An array of bike lights was strapped to its frame. I asked what the hell that thing was.

"Solar panel. Got it from a place out of Oregon," said Eric Sheets with pride. "26 watts. With decent sun it keeps the cameras and cell phone going."

Eric, his donkey and the dog pulling the donkey didn't seem at all fatigued, even though they'd been travelling from Ohio on foot for the past three months on a journey to Seattle to propose a new method of education reform to Bill Gates.

This donkey meant business. It came equipped with everything: a tent, bedroll, protective tarp, sleeping bag, camcorder with tripod, pillow, plastic bag with extra clothes, a saw, sandals and dual satchels at each side with reflective tape on both ends resembling a cross.

I soon realized how practical Eric's dog-donkey setup was.

Eric told me about his year-long preparation for the trip, back in Ohio, when he was still contemplating how he could successfully walk barefoot across the United States. He said he originally planned to haul everything on his back, but the weight - and the increased friction between his strides and the ground - would have torn the bottoms of his feet raw. His mom joked he should get a donkey to carry most of his stuff.

"But then I gave it some thought, and I was like, 'Yeah, a donkey would really work,'" he said.

The dead field we stood in was littered with apples. Eric picked one up and threw it toward the donkey. The dog, lying in the dirt a few feet away, quickly snatched the apple and began to eat it.

"The only time those two argue is over food," he said.

The dog, a tan and black Coonhound named Buck, was originally a stray who randomly wound up on his friend's front porch one day in Ohio.

"I walked up to my buddy's house, and there's this dog on the porch acting like he owns the place. I figured my buddy just bought him, and he was really friendly. There was kind of a mutual connection right away."

To Eric's surprise, his friend told him the dog had simply shown up a few days before and refused to go away. Eric's decision to take in Buck as his own was not difficult, he said.

Obtaining a donkey took a little more effort. Eric usually attends his church's holiday activities in Rockford, Ohio. During a meticulously-planned nativity scene in which a child playing Jesus rode an actual donkey, Eric asked the animal's owner about getting a donkey of his own.

The owner brought Eric to an exotic animal auction in Mt. Hope, Ohio. With a single bid, Eric bought the donkey for $85, plus a $1 vet fee.

Having no prior knowledge about donkeys, Eric asked many bidders at the auction the essentials for a good trekking donkey. They told him good teeth, strong hooves and a narrow shoulder-base for a strong back would be best. The ideal age is 7-8 years old, they said.

After obtaining medical papers following the auction, Eric found out his new prize was a 14-year old Sicilian donkey from West Virginia named Moses.

Back in the apple-laden field, the late afternoon sun was beginning to set as a red Ford Ranger pulled off the road. A friendly looking woman, Vicki Weekley, and her two children, Will, 8 and Mike, 6, started walking over. She was just beginning to take her kids - Will dressed as a black knight, Mike as the killer from "Scream" - trick-or-treating to the houses along the highway. She said her husband had met Eric a few days before as he was driving along the side of the road.

As I talked with Vicki, her kids kept tugging at her shirt, asking if they could go get something from the truck. She told them politely to wait and continued talking with me.

The kids went to the truck anyway. Will emerged with a can of Pepsi, and Mike with a paper plate wrapped in aluminum foil. Will ran straight to Eric, and Mike came by me, anxious to show off what he had: two beef chimichangas topped with cheese and taco sauce. They were steaming as he discretely lifted the foil.

"I can't let the dog see them," Mike whispered.

After the kids gave Eric his dinner, they ran back to the truck, this time getting two Ziplock bags of dog food, some hay and a five-gallon jug of Culligan water. After I got done talking with Vicki, I walked back over to Eric, who was happily eating his chimichangas. Both Moses and Buck were eating dog food straight from the bags.

"I'm telling you, I eat better on the road than I do at home," he said. Throughout his entire trip, the generosity of people like Vicki and her children has kept him well fed.

Soon after, a large GMC pickup pulled up next to Vicki's truck. One of the two men that came out held up his arms in greeting Eric, like he was celebrating a touchdown.

The man lightly slapped his friend in the stomach as they walked up to Eric, Moses and Buck.

"You thought I was kidding, huh?" The man said to his friend. "I told you, I don't make this shit up."

ericvanwyke@dailynebraskan.com