Day Two the Head of the Snake

After a night in Carlyle, Illinois, I spent the day in search of the elusive pipeline and the massive tank collection area vividly outlined on Google earth. With the aid of my trusty map I found the confluence of the pipelines outside this tiny village of Patoka in south central Illinois.

In just a few hours of driving down dusty roads, I realize that my journey is not just for hunting the elusive 'black snake' pipeline. It is also about coming home, to my roots, in the heartland. I grew up north of here among the cornfields and soybean fields. It is painful to know that beneath this rich soil--the breadbasket of the world-- are miles of pipes forcing gas and oil from the north to the Gulf. I happened upon a wetland restoration area and stopped to gaze at the beaver dams and water fowl only a few miles from the 'tank farm' where the fuels are stored before heading down to the Gulf. A bald eagle greeted me at the entrance to one of the lakes. I took that as a good omen that I'm on the right path that although I I don't pretend to be an accomplished documentary film maker or journalist, I am making a small contribution to the story of Standing Rock.  This trip is also contributing to a deeper appreciation to the place where I grew up, the midwest.

I'm also seeing this pipeline through different eyes, the eyes of those who live, work, grow up around it. Moving up Route 51 and across 185, I saw the cuts through farmland laid with rock but chained off from the curious like me.

Taking a detour to Vandalia, the location of the first state capitol of Illinois, I discovered a small museum on the street behind the courthouse and spoke with a woman who at 84 has lived all her life in the same house she was born into only a few miles from the pipeline. As the docent and guardian of this former church building, she was a wealth of information about the area and the pipeline.   She assured me she had no fears about it yet sincerely empathized with the 'protestors in North Dakota who are concerned about their water.'

Marilyn was well-versed on how the pipeline acquired land, their responsibilities and also informed me about the other pipelines that meet up in Patoka. She felt a pipeline to be much safer than rail cars or trucks. 'That's why the oil coming down here from Canada wanted this pipeline so it would be much safer for their towns after that horrible explosion they had.'
For that reason and others, I want nothing more to see an end to our use of fossil fuels. For folks like Marilyn, the question is what would we use for transportation? Her concern is genuine. We have the technology to enable us to live very different lives that don't carry the potential to poison the land and the water. When more folks (like my delightful new friend) grasp and hold that belief and information that we already are capable of making that change, they won't fear the loss of their lifestyle.
After a last photo of Marilyn and her guy, I headed out. The afternoon was waning and I was tired of juggling the map, the camera and phone, the steering wheel and got onto the main road toward Hillsboro and Litchfield. As I drove up 185 I passed two correctional facilities. And then it hit me: when our economy fails to support small farmers, small towns with local businesses, our local schools, what do we offer the working people? Prisons. Or pipelines. We can do better.
Tonight I rest in the home of my good friends in Springfield. Tomorrow, we head to the Mississippi.
PS: When in Vandalia be sure to stop at the Fayette County Museum and say hello to this neat lady!