What’s in a handshake? Hope, history and a festival

A fun educational festival will take place Oct. 20-21 along the Ohio River to commemorate the 215th anniversary of a handshake that may or may not have occurred between two men who became American heroes.

The first annual Handshake Festival on the grounds of the Falls of the Ohio State Park in Clarksville, Indiana, will honor the handshake that may have happened between Meriwether Lewis and William Clark when the two men met there to begin their expedition of discovery from 1803 to 1806.

Lewis and Clark handshake statue at the Falls of the Ohio Interpretive Center.

A major festival attraction is a statue that depicts Lewis and Clark shaking hands. Sculpted by the late C.A (Carol) Grende, the statue is 10 feet tall and sits on a 4-foot-tall, 16.5-ton native slab of 387-million-year-old Jefferson limestone. The statue is located outside of the Falls of the Ohio Interpretive Center near the Ohio River. The festival is sponsored the Ohio River Chapter of the Lewis and Clark Trail Heritage Foundation in conjunction with other partners.

The outdoor festival will draw Lewis and Clark experts and enthusiasts from around the country, as well as locals, school kids, scouts, and others interested in history. One of Clark’s descendants, Charles Clark, will be on site to talk about his famous ancestors. So will Hasan Davis, a lawyer who is a juvenile justice advocate and a re-enactor of York, Clark’s slave and an important expedition member.

Hasan Davis portraying York, an important member of the expedition. Davis will give talks at the Handshake Festival.

Displays will depict the time period of the Lewis & Clark Expedition: blacksmithing as done during the expedition; weaving; tomahawk and bow and arrow demonstrations; early 18th century medicines; dulcimer and strings music from the early 1800s; and, among other offerings, old-fashioned games for children.

Presenters at the festival have an impressive depth of knowledge about the expedition. Among them are Richard and Sandy Hennings from Charlotte, Michigan, 340 miles from Clarksville. Sandy is the festival’s organizer and the person who proposed that the Ohio Chapter host the event to commemorate the 1803 handshake.

The Hennings, both of whom are retired, have participated in events in Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Missouri, and Michigan over the last two decades, sometimes 15 to 20 events a year. They often dress as re-enactors and set up camp and cook over a campfire. Their museum-quality displays show period-piece firearms, medicines, maps, knives, sewing kits, fishhooks, beads for trading with Indians, and other replicas of supplies and equipment used during the expedition.

Their displays at the Handshake Festival will include one about the mathematical methods the explorers used for navigation. The Hennings will also have a journal that kids and adults can sign using a quill pen, much like the quills that Lewis and Clark used to write in their journals.

In a telephone interview, the Hennings noted their enthusiasm for historical festivals started with Richard’s interest in muzzle-loading black-powder weapons and history in general. “I grew up watching Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone on TV,” Richard said in explaining how he became interested in black-powder weapons and history.

The Hennings’ passion about Lewis and Clark evolved over four decades. During the initial two decades, the couple participated in festivals dedicated to the French and Indian War from 1754 to 1763 and the mountain men period from about 1810 to the 1880s. It was a natural transition to focus on Lewis and Clark.

A replica of the George Rogers Clark cabin where the handshake may have occurred between Lewis and Clark.

“When I got more into it (Lewis and Clark’s exploration), the more I was fascinated with what they accomplished,” Richard pointed out.

During events, the Hennings pass out trinkets and handouts copied from Lewis and Clark’s journals. “That way people can take a piece of history with them,” Richard noted. “We enjoy having conversations with people about the (Lewis and Clark) trail. Sometimes they’ll say, ‘I’ve been in that part of the trail.’ It touches so many people. That’s amazing. Lewis and Clark are unique.”

One of the questions asked at Lewis and Clark festivals: Where do presenters find period clothing and replicas of early 19th-century equipment? Most sew their own period clothing. And most have engaging stories about how they acquired beads, buttons, firearms, and other items like those used by the explorers.

A replica of George Shannon’s sewing kit, also called a “housewife,”  made by Richard and Sandy Hennings. The replica is accurate even down to the coloring. The outside of the leather kit was dyed red while the inside (photo below) was dyed green. Photos by Richard and Sandy Hennings.

The Hennings have made many replicas. One replica, for example, was of a sewing kit carried by George Shannon, the youngest explorer. To learn the kit’s dimensions and other details about it, Richard called the Oregon Historical Society, which has Shannon’s kit. Such kits were nicknamed “housewife” in the early 1800s. Shannon’s housewife is made of leather dyed red on the outside and green on the inside. Dimensions when the kit is open: 7 1/2 by 15 3/8 inches. “It was fun making it,” Hennings said.

“People come up (at the festivals) and ask what’s this for and what’s it used for?” Richard said. “It gives us a chance to explain history to them.”

{Click here to view the festival’s schedule of events.}

The 1803 handshake is an interesting symbol around which much speculation and debate have occurred over the years. Did the two men actually shake hands? No one knows.

Lewis and Clark, who had become friends during their earlier military service, had only communicated about the expedition by letter. They did not have the opportunity to talk face-to-face until Lewis reached Clarksville, where Clark was living and waiting for Lewis to arrive with a keelboat and supplies.

“This was the first time they physically were able to talk about the expedition,” said Sandy Hennings. “Clark may have just said (to Lewis), “I’m with you. Let’s go.” And, she added with enthusiasm, there was most likely a handshake.

Sandy and Richard Hennings in their period costumes at a Lewis and Clark event.

Regardless of how the two men greeted each other, the story of the handshake is intriguing. It spans two centuries and involves the handshake mystery itself, a famous historian and author, the handshake statue, two women who became close friends, and a magical concept called Lewis and Clark Luck. And there is possibly some Divine Providence tossed in, too.

The story requires you take great jumps through time. Here the story is:

On April 1, 1801, Lewis, 27, was appointed the private secretary for the newly elected President Thomas Jefferson. The two men had known each other for years through Virginia society. The president correctly summed up Lewis as adventurous, intelligent, a leader of men, and someone who is reliable and could be trusted.

So in early 1803, Jefferson named Lewis as the leader, the captain, of an expedition that, as it turned out, would cover more than 4,900 miles along wild rivers and through treacherous mountains to and back from the mouth of the Columbia River at the Pacific coasts of what are now Oregon and Washington.

They decided a co-leader needed to be appointed, a precaution in case something happened to Lewis along the arduous journey.

Lewis recruited a good friend, William Clark, four years his elder. The two men had met in 1796 after Lewis joined the military to fight in the Whisky Rebellion. After funding for the expedition was approved by Congress in January 1803, Lewis and Clark communicated about the expedition by writing letters to each other. The plan was for Lewis to travel from Washington, D.C., along the way purchasing supplies and overseeing the construction of a keelboat. He would then meet up with his friend in Clarksville where Clark was staying at the home of his older brother Gen. George Rogers Clark, who was famous for his military service in the American Revolutionary War.

{Want to learn more about Lewis and Clark? Click here to check out the website for the Lewis and Clark Trail Heritage Foundation and, while you’re there, become a member.}


Now…jump ahead almost two centuries to a book, Undaunted Courage, published in 1996 by historian and popular author, Stephen E. Ambrose. On page 117, Ambrose brilliantly described what he believed the meeting of Lewis and Clark at the cabin of Gen. George Rogers Clark in Clarksville was like:

“When they shook hands, the Lewis and Clark Expedition began.

“Each man was about six feet tall and broad-shouldered. Each was rugged in the face, Clark somewhat more so than Lewis, who had a certain delicacy to his profile. Their bodies were rawboned and muscled, with no fat. Their hands—sunburned, like their faces, even this late in the season—were big, rough, strong, capable, confident. Each man was long-legged. Just a glimpse of their stride across a porch, or at how they seated themselves, showed the physical coordination of an athlete. Each, probably, was dressed in fringed buckskin. And who can doubt that, as they stuck out their hands to each other, both men had smiles on their faces that were as broad as the Ohio River, as big as their ambitions and dreams.

“Oh! To have been able to hear the talk on the porch that afternoon, and on into the evening, and through the night. There would have been whiskey—General Clark was the host, and General Clark was a heavy drinker. There would have been tables groaning under the weight of pork, beef, venison, duck, goose, fish, fresh bread, apples, fresh milk, and more.

“There were the two would-be heroes with the authentic older hero, all three Virginians, all three soldiers, all three Republicans, all three great talkers, full of ideas and images and memories and practical matters and grand philosophy, of Indians and bears and mountains never before seen. Excitement and joy ran through their questions and answers, words coming out in a tumble.”

Stephen E. Ambrose. Photo by Jim Wallace (Smithsonian Institution)

“Unfortunately,” Ambrose concluded, “we don’t have a single word of description of the meeting of Lewis and Clark.”

In other words, we of today have no idea what occurred, what was actually said, what was planned during the meeting, or whether a handshake even occurred. What we believe is a matter of faith and hope.

Lewis had earlier started writing in his journal, back on August 30 when he departed Pittsburgh in the newly constructed keelboat. For some unknown reason, however, he did not maintain his journal from the entry of September 18 to November 11, which included the time period when he and Clark greeted each other in Clarksville.

Some Lewis and Clark aficionados believe the meeting means Clarksville should become known as the location of the start of the expedition. Other enthusiasts think the starting place should be farther upstream on the Ohio River: Pittsburgh, where the keelboat was constructed and launched. Others believe the start of the journey began when Lewis departed Washington, D.C. There is no win-win scenario in this debate. Nonetheless, it brings about fun verbal sparring that shows how knowledgeable and passionate some people are about the expedition.


And now, again, jump ahead, this time a few more years to Clarksville area resident Phyllis Yeager, who has a deep and long interest in Lewis and Clark’s story. Friends describe Yeager as a bubbly individual with enthusiasm in her voice when she talks about the Lewis and Clark Expedition

{Click here to learn more about Phyllis Yeager.}

On a January day in 2000, Yeager began reading Undaunted Courage. When she reached page 117 and read Ambrose’s opinion of the handshake, her destiny was sealed. She knew she needed to bring the story of Lewis and Clark into the lives of Clarksville residents and others living along the Ohio River. Until then, many local people had little, if any, knowledge about the explorers’ presence in their part of the country.

While Yeager planned how to help Clarksville receive recognition as the expedition’s point of departure, the 200th anniversary of the Lewis and Clark Expedition was approaching; a national commemoration was planned from 2003 through 2006. During the years of the commemoration, Yeager and others diligently worked on projects to bring recognition to Lewis and Clark’s presence along the Ohio River. One important goal was to have a statue of Lewis and Clark created and erected in Clarksville to commemorate the handshake.

As all of this activity was underway, Ambrose passed away in 2002. Yeager, though, had the opportunity to meet him prior to then. He autographed page 117 of her copy of Undaunted Courage and wrote on the page “This is where it all began.”

It was around this time that Lewis and Clark Luck began to play a vital role in the handshake story. Lewis and Clark Luck is a term used by Stephanie Ambrose Tubbs, Stephen Ambrose’s daughter and a noted historian and author, Yeager pointed out.

The phrase explains the many seemingly miracles associated with the explorers, Yeager noted in a book she wrote, The Story of the Lewis and Clark Statue, published in 2012 and funded by the Indiana Lewis and Clark Commission and given to attendees of the annual Lewis and Clark Trail Heritage Foundation meeting. As Yeager emphasized throughout the book, Lewis and Clark’s fortunate happenstances may actually have been “Divine Providence.”

{Yeager’s book about the Lewis and Clark statue will be available for sale ($20) at the Handshake Festival. Look for Yeager at the Indiana Lewis and Clark Commission booth.}

Regardless of whether it was because of luck or Divine Providence, Lewis and Clark and their companions often experienced good fortune when times became tough or dangerous. Take, for example, their 1805 arrival in the remote wilderness of today’s western Montana, where they faced the challenge of crossing the formidable Rocky Mountains.

Horses were desperately needed for the rigorous journey. None were to be found. It appeared at one point as if all might fail for want of those four-legged critters. Then, Sacagawea discovered she was the sister of the Shoshone chief, whom she hadn’t seen since she was kidnapped years earlier when she was 12 or 13 years old. “Consider the chances that the chief of the Shoshone would be Sacagawea’s brother,” Yeager said. “This streak of Lewis and Clark Luck ensured the Corps with the horses they needed from the Shoshone tribe and played a big role in the success of the expedition.”

Now, almost two centuries later, it seemed to be with some of the Lewis and Clark Luck that Yeager met Carol Grende on a 2003 visit to an art gallery in Great Falls, Montana. Yeager was in Great Falls to attend an art auction.

Phyllis Yeager (left) and Carol Grende.

As she walked through the gallery, Yeager “came to a sudden halt when a young Indian woman seemed to jump out and stop me. Staring at me was a stunning clay model standing on a round swirling table…This Indian woman had a cradleboard strapped to her back with a baby in it and she exhibited such strength of character in her face as she planted a walking stick in the ground that my eyes welled up with tears gazing upon this young girl and her baby. I recognized her immediately as Sacagawea of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. It was as if she came to life before me and intuitively I knew her creator had extraordinary talent.”

The creator, Carol Grende, just happened to be there “poking and pinching the clay of Sacajawea’s buckskin dress.” As the two women began talking to each other, Yeager suddenly blurted out that a statue of Lewis and Clark’s handshake needed to be created for the Falls of the Ohio. She related Ambrose’s page 117 quote about the handshake.

“Carol’s face lit up!” Yeager recalled in her book. “She started giggling while telling me of her love for the Lewis and Clark story.” And Grende boldly said “I can do it” about creating the statue.

Grende was born near Idaho’s Clearwater River on October 7 exactly 150 years to the day when the explorers departed a site they called Canoe Camp along the river. She lived most of her life near the Lewis and Clark Trail and attended a junior high school named after Sacagawea in Lewiston, Idaho. She rode horses on the same trails traveled by the explorers. She was well aware of the page 117 reference. And she wanted to be involved in the upcoming Lewis and Clark Bicentennial Commemoration.

“Carol then got very personal,” Yeager recalled, “telling me that the previous summer she had even participated in a spiritual Indian ceremony where the elders encouraged her to become involved in the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial.”

And so began a close friendship that lasted until Grende passed away in 2009 at age 53 from pneumonia brought on by the complication of leukemia that she fought for 20 months. Yeager fondly remembers Grende as a lovely woman with graceful long brown hair, fun-loving smile and a life filled with laughter. Her motto was “Charge On—Have No Fear.”

Carol Grende’s statue of Sacagawea in Great Falls, Montana. The 9.5-foot statue evolved from the clay model she was working on when she met Phyllis Yeager.

Grende and Yeager’s journey to create, fund and place the handshake statue became a huge challenge that involved many people donating their time and talents. Grende sculpted the handshake statue at a record pace, completing it in only a few months, while Yeager focused on acquiring the money to pay for foundry work and other expenses that totaled $125,000. As an offshoot to the effort, Yeager started a business, Phyllis Yeager Promotions, specifically to help Grende in her sculpting endeavors. The business now assists other artists.

The story of the handshake statue’s funding is an excellent example of a community working together—and of Lewis and Clark Luck, and, yes, maybe Divine Providence. Yeager and others, including the Clarksville Historical Society and the Clark-Floyd Counties Convention & Tourism Bureau, began the proverbial knocking on doors to enthuse people and politicians about the statue.

In less than a year, after some unexpected twists and turns, the statue was funded through small donations; major donations by two local residents: Elmer Hoehn and Jan Huff, the former board president of the local convention and tourism bureau; and a bond issue through Floyd County. Placement of the statue at the Falls of the Ohio was worked out thanks to political connections aligning at the right time.

Grende’s Lewis and Clark sculpting dreams extended beyond the handshake statue. She envisioned statues all along the Lewis and Clark Trail. This was a valiant goal, especially considering she had never created a monument prior to her Great Falls meeting of Yeager in 2003.

During the short period from then to 2007, Grende created an unbelievable collection of Lewis and Clark artwork, more accomplishments than most artists might ever do in decades. She crafted an entire series of small-sized Lewis and Clark bronzes, some cast, others now still in clay. Her Lewis and Clark-related statues have been placed in five cities along the trail: Lewiston; Dayton, Washington; and Nebraska City; Nebraska. The handshake statue is in Clarksville. The clay model of Sacagawea that Grende was poking and pinching when she met Yeager in 2003 in Great Falls evolved into a 9.5-foot statue named “Arduous Journey.” It stands at the Missouri River Federal Courthouse in Great Falls.

The handshake statue in Clarksville, Indiana.

“Carol was like the eagle—ready for flight the day we met,” Yeager recalled. “She spent her lifetime preparing for that one great thrust.”

Now Carol Grende is gone, but she left behind something that people can readily see and touch, the statue at the Falls of the Ohio. There may or may not have been a handshake in Lewis and Clark’s time, but it’s there now, representing partnership and adventure of historic proportion.

{What’s happening along the Lewis and Clark Trail? Legislation before the U.S. Senate would extend the official trail by 1,200 from St. Louis to Pittsburgh. Read about it…}

The Big Picture?

If you set aside Russian interference, fake news, political squabbling, and photographs of cute puppies, Facebook really is a remarkable tool.

It sometimes affords us the opportunity, the spark, to think beyond where we are. I suspect I’m like most Americans: I get too easily entangled in the minutia of daily living to think beyond my overly cluttered existence.

That’s a reason why I’ve always admired people like Stephen Hawking and some theologians—they focus on The Big Picture. Who are we? Where did we come from? Where are we headed?

Early this morning—after I let the dog out to do its business, after I pondered whether I put 10 or 11 teaspoons of coffee in the coffee maker, and right after I checked to make sure I didn’t put my tee shirt on backwards, again—I ran across a Facebook posting that caught my interest.

The posting involved two of my high school friends, neither of whom I have seen since we graduated 50 years ago. (But I’ve kept up with them on Facebook, another benefit of Facebook).gods_450pixels

Pat Pearce, a very talented musician in Kansas City, Mo., posted the photograph that you see on this page. This is a reposting. The photo has circulated widely on Facebook.

To which William (Bill) Shull, a successful and astute lawyer in Warrensburg, Mo., commented: “Pure coincidence, obviously. The dude on the left only has four fingers on his right hand!  Actually, that is amazing if it’s true. It makes you wonder if ‘historians’ actually have factual history figured out.”

Pat’s posting and Bill’s comment brought about memories of a book that I read years ago. It was by an archaeologist (sorry, I don’t recall his name or the book title) who wrote about why there are ancient pyramids located in most cultures around the world.

His take—no, not that ancient aliens built the pyramids around the world—was that trade routes back then were more widely established, even across oceans, than what is commonly believed today.

As commerce was established, religious missionaries made their way into native cultures and brought along concepts like pyramids. Sometimes conquerors came, too, and so did shifts in cultures, and there was an establishment of new norms imported from other cultures. Then comes McDonald’s, Air Jordan tennies and tee shirts displaying Bob Marley (Oh, well, hmm, this last bit is my take on the archaeologist’s take).

Bill brought up an interesting point in his comment: Do historians “actually have factual history figured out”?

My answer: seldom, sometimes, not often, more often than not, no, maybe yes, heck, I got no idea.

It’s easy to interpret history incorrectly, especially on cultures that existed many thousands of years ago and no written records exist today. And it’s even easy to re-interpret and reshape history where written histories do exist today. Think Columbus—once a good guy (back when I was in elementary school), then a bad guy as details about him emerged. Think Hitler, bent on wiping out anything Jewish. Think of what’s happening now—some American political leaders are trying to rewrite history in their own image.

One of my great interests is the 1804-06 Lewis & Clark Expedition. The explorers maintained extensive journals of what they saw and experienced. Their journals have been published word-for-word multiple times over the last two centuries. Many, many books have been published about the two leaders, their companions, the natives they met, the landscape, and the wildlife. The amount of scholarly research is stunningly impressive.

I’ve found, though, that sometimes modern interpretation of historical figures or events may be less accurate than what actually occurred or what people were all about. Even for the most careful of historians and writers, one missed word in the reading of the journals, the incorrect analysis of a vague phrase, an inability to understand what it’s really like to be attacked by a grizzly bear—and suddenly the facts of history are unintentionally revised. Try as one might, it’s impossible to feel the sweat and physical strain of something that happened in the past, the mental anxiety of a person, the real thought process behind why a person did this or that.

After I let in my dog, who is now snoring on the couch, and remembered I had put in three too many teaspoons of coffee, I did a bit of online research on the photograph reposted by Pat. The photo appears to have originated from research done by Jim Allen, author of Atlantis: Lost Kingdom of the Andes (I haven’t read this book). Click here for more info about Jim’s research. Disclaimer: I make no guarantee on the photo’s authenticity, whether Jim Allen actually exists, or, for that matter, whether who I am that I think I am.

It’s been an enjoyable and interesting morning thanks to Pat, Bill, and the photo. I got to ponder part of The Big Picture.

And I discovered I do have my tee shirt on correctly, for once.

And I got to wonder when the aliens will return. This time, will they bring intelligent life to Earth?


How Lewis and Clark almost got me murdered

My new year started with a volley of gunshots, a night sky ablaze with fireworks, a cacophony of honking geese, and a memory of a forgotten time.

The last in the string of those events is the most important to me. How often does it happen when an incident of the present ignites a time of the past? Often, of course. But when the memory is a gem, it’s worth recounting as the opportunity arises.

I was fortunate in 1973 to spend a half-year with four other guys retracing the trail of Lewis and Clark by canoe and foot. One of the guys, Mike Cochran, was a cartoonist. He drew cartoons to record our journey. These scared geese? Ride this blog to find out the story. Time to Read: less than 3 minutes.

I was fortunate in 1973 to spend a half-year with four other guys retracing the trail of Lewis and Clark by canoe and foot. One member of our journey, Mike Cochran, drew cartoons to record our journey. These scared geese? Read this blog to find out the story. Time to read: less than 3 minutes.

My bride of two months, Patty, and I are spending the winter at her home in Independence, Mo. Her home is in a nice neighborhood interspersed with lakes. The lakes are homes to geese that were too lazy to have flown farther south for the winter.

A couple of minutes after midnight I stepped outside. Firecrackers and gunshots could be heard everywhere as revelers brought in the 2017 New Year. Explosions of fireworks burst here and there over the neighborhood, lighting the sky with sparkling blues, reds and whites.

The geese wanted none of this. They took to the air, honking hard and loud, and flew by overhead. They blocked out the stars.

It was then, thanks to their loud protests, that I remembered the time so long ago when geese and Lewis and Clark about got me done in.

Five of us, all young guys, spent a half-year retracing the 1804-06 journey of Meriwether Lewis, William Clark and their companions, including a dog, into the unexplored lands of the Louisiana Purchase and Pacific Northwest. Our quest was to follow their return route from the mouth of the Columbia River in Oregon to St. Louis, which was the farthest western outpost of civilization in the early 1800s. We did this by using two canoes and a kayak to paddle the Columbia, Snake and Missouri rivers. We hiked across the Rockies in Idaho and Montana.

All in all, 4,200 miles of sweat, weary bodies, blistered feet, meals over campfires, cold rain, big winds and, best of all, adventure. We experienced America like few others have in modern times, paddle stroke by paddle stroke, stride by stride. This was in 1973 and I was 43 years younger than I am now.

In the Dakotas, we journeyed down the Missouri River as a million geese made their fall migration south along the river. One day our immediate destination was Pierre, South Dakota’s state capital. We were scheduled the next day to meet the governor to conduct a ceremony about Lewis and Clark. This we had done with governors of other states along the trail.

A million geese and ducks migrate south along the Missouri River in the fall. We journeyed down the river at the same time, often seeing huge flocks like this one. Photo by the Omaha World Herald.

A million geese and ducks migrate south along the Missouri River in the fall. We journeyed down the river at the same time, often seeing huge flocks like this one. Photo by the Omaha World Herald.

Smelled of soured sweat: The afternoon became late, and we knew we couldn’t reach Pierre by nightfall. We secured our boats and equipment on shore and headed for a road that our map showed was nearby. We intended to hitchhike into Pierre and camp the night there.

With sleeping bags in hand, we climbed up a steep river bank. Our sun-faded clothes were ragged from five months on the trail; our long beards, scraggly. We smelled of soured sweat and smoky campfires.

On top of the bank, we stepped into a huge field covered with dried stalks of corn. Suddenly, thousands of geese sprang skyward from feasting on the corn, their honking deafening, wings swirling the air around us.

Clay and the two Mikes scurried off in a failed attempt to catch stragglers waddling through the corn. Their intention was dinner, much as we had eaten rattlesnake back on the Columbia. Fresh meat would be a good change to change our steady diet of freeze-dried and dehydrated food.

Bob, eyes studying the miracle of the geese flying above, wandered farther into the field. I remained behind, still, awed. I’d never seen anything like this mass of geese and likely never would again. Most geese merged into V formations and flew away. Hundreds, though, re-landed on the field.

A pickup sped away from a nearby farm house and came barreling straight at me. It fishtailed through the corn. Geese took flight again. The truck almost hit me before skidding to a stop. The driver, burly, red-faced, flew out. He bulled his way right up to my face. His neck veins bulged with rage.

“Just what the hell of damnation are you doing here, you lop-eared sumabitch?” Bulging Veins screamed. He was an old guy. His breath smelled like the inside of a cow barn.

“…you lop-eared sumabitch”

He turned to reach for a shotgun hanging on a rack across the back window.

Murder was on his mind. Of that, I was sure. Suddenly I realized our Lewis and Clark excursion might be my fatal Waterloo. Just my luck, done in by trying to reach across the past to guys 200 years ago. Who would’ve guessed?

The passenger, a younger man, stopped him by reaching up and firmly holding down the weapon in its place on the rack, thankfully.

“But this idiot just cost me ten thousand dollars!” Bulging Veins violently snapped.

He rounded us up, yelling in rage as we tried to explain to our sudden appearance in the cornfield. No go. At least, we offered, let us get our boats and paddle away…

He aimed a dirty forefinger toward the road. “If you ain’t off my land in five minutes, I’m gonna blow your heads off,” he swore harshly. “You got my word on that.”

He added with spittle blowing out of his mouth, “Don’t never come back here again, not even for your gawdamned boats. You got three minutes.”

Two minutes later, we were on the road, thumbs out. In Pierre, we found a public park to lay out our sleeping bags. We also sought out a conversation with the law. The state patrol entered into a pithy phone negotiation with Bulging Veins.

Lewis & Clark’s confrontations: Later, as the darkness of night spread over us, I recalled entries in Lewis and Clark’s journals where they faced off against local natives. A reluctant gift of tobacco to the Sioux ended one Missouri River standoff. A Montana brawl left one member (possibly two) of the Blackfoot nation dead when they attempted to steal guns and horses—a tragedy that would mar U.S. relationships with the Blackfoot nation for decades.

Lewis’ dog for dinner: In search of dog for dinner, Columbia River natives snatched Seaman, Lewis’ beloved Newfoundland. Captain Lewis dispatched three armed men to bring back Seaman or kill the kidnappers. Seaman came back without loss of life.

The day after our encounter with Bulging Veins we strolled into the capitol building. To our surprise, the hallways were empty and we couldn’t find a sign directing us to the governor’s officer. Finally, a stoop-shouldered gentleman came along. We gathered around him and asked if he knew where we could find the governor.

Were we there to assassinate the governor?

He took in the sight of our mangy beards and mud-splattered clothes. His nose wrinkled from the onslaught of our odor. His eyes tightened. I could read his concern: Were these bums here to assassinate the governor?

Blinking, he stuttered, “Why, uh, why, I am the governor.”

It was then that Richard Kneip remembered our appointment. We followed him to his office. A stuffed goose hung on the wall. He was a hunter.

The Lewis and Clark ceremony proceeded as expected. His aide informed him about our previous day’s encounter. The governor knew the quick-tempered farmer. He said the farmer purposely left corn in his field to attract migrating geese. He charged hunters $15 a day to shoot the birds.

I made a quick calculation. Bulging Veins claimed we cost him $10,000. That amount divided by 15: more than 600 hunters. No wonder he wanted to keep the geese on his land. It was a small fortune back in those days.

“Every goose hunters in our state wants to stomp through his fields and chase those geese away, but everybody’s afraid to, including me,” Gov. Kneip admitted. With a laugh, he added, “And you fellows did it without knowing any better.”

By the end of the afternoon, the state patrol had delivered us back to our boats and equipment. We were on our way again, following Lewis & Clark. And, unbeknownst to me back then, I had a memory to help bring in the New Year of 2017.

Find out more about our journey and what happened to the five of us in the ensuing decades And see more Mike Cochran cartoons.