IWW Olympia Branch
Train Riding Subcommittee
Black Hills Special Reportback 4
Hello fellow worker. Gonzo Wobbly here, hoping your coffee is however you like it, your boss is on the backfoot and your solidarity is a bell that rings like how the voices of the children of lucifer must have cried for joy on the first morning of revolution. That being said, we have old business to address, that is, I owe you another iteration of the Black Hills Special Reportback.
The roar of engines. Off road vehicles rip down the road. One after another after another. Engines buzz from the abyss. They tear through the peaceful forest like an angry swarm of assholes. These robotic terrorists are all over the spot where we stash our vehicles.
We’ve got a bus, a van and a motorcycle here. They’ve got four dirt bikes, four ATVs and two of those side by sides. You know those two to six person dune buggy things? They look like weaponized golf carts? Anyway, two of those.
One of them drives through the stream and over to us. Oh yeah these fucking guys. I remember their faces from the cover of the fucking Daily Stormer magazine.
I mean, it’s hard to convey it words how utterly obvious it was that these guys were nazis.
Basically, if you saw one of them, fellow worker, you’d say, “Wait. This guy?” and I’d say “Yeah!” and you’d say “Oh, yeah. Fuck! I mean, come on. That’s exactly what a KKK member looks like.”
So the fucking Grand Wizard is sitting in his side by side with his goon trying to chat us up while the other vehicles run amok through the woods in all directions around us.
“So what you boys doing out here?”
Little does this fucker know, but earlier when they came through they were being watched. They took pictures of our license plates before leaving. Our comrade changes subject and redirects the questions back towards the motherfucker:
“Did you take a picture of my license plate?”
“...Wheeen?”
THAT'S HOW HE DENIES IT?
“We saw you do it.”
“Nooo. We would never do something like that..?”
I can’t even- these guys are fucking morons. Oh shit and the goon in the passenger seat? It’s one of the feds that we dealt with at the other spot, just wearing plain clothes and sunglasses! Like that’s enough disguise.
Or they just don’t care.
We go back to camp, which has now expanded to be on both sides of the fence, since we were told by both authorities we are not welcome on either side.
You remember Joe Buck from last episode, fellow worker? His domain, one side of the fence. He came back and to see that we didn’t leave so he asked a bunch of very cop-like questions. Then he said he was going to call the cops. Almost as if they’re working together! Later, he is seen driving his truck in a caravan with multiple law enforcement vehicles. He is supposed to represent the will of the tribes, however, he is clearly hiding something and being leaned on by law enforcement to cooperate with them. Oh and he employs an all-white crew of tweakers to torture his herd of buffalo.
The other side of the fence is National Forest, so basically, the King’s Forest, and we the band of thieves. Oh wait, but don’t we have a right to camp because America or something? No, fellow worker. They ain’t falling for it. The fucking Federal Government is very aware of the difference between citizens on vacation and anarchists on a mission. They are so completely aware of this, in fact, that they have recently created Forest Service Law Enforcement. A federal forest cop. They are recruited straight out of the Marines. You know, thugs. Their whole job is fucking with anarchists in the woods in collaboration with local cops. And now we’ve seen them collaborating with local white supremacists as well.
It’s kind of flattering. Also, exhausting. But at least I have some idea what to expect. I tell the operators of the bus they should check the brakes before they use it again. I know full well that fuckheads who are in favor of genocide are, in fact, also capable of fuckery.
That night our camp gets struck by lightning. That was the brightest whitest light I have ever seen. It tore my eyeballs out of sleep. Everyone else’s too. It was actually the same day I read this Dr. Bones article while I was on a town run and it was about him almost getting struck by lightning. Weird. My Lakota friend says it’s a good sign. Thunderbeings and all that.
The next day, we get word that there is going to be a meeting of the Clean Water Alliance in Rapid City.
“Do you think they’ll have food?”
“Fucking definitely.”
We all hit the road. And wouldn’t you know it, fellow worker? The bus’s radiator starts spurting coolant. Upon inspection, the hole in the radiator looked just like a hole stabbed with a screwdriver. I knew it. These fucks. At this rate they’ll start murdering us in cold blood before too long.
Well, we get to the Clean Water Alliance meeting. Alright food. Not enough coffee. On top of a hill. In a gymnasium. I’ll cut to the chase. We meet a grad student there who is studying water and journalism from the University of Nebraska. He’s got a drone, courtesy of the university. So we end up talking because I have a drone too. Before long he has agreed to join forces.
His name’s Bobby and he drives his van back out with us to camp. Apparently that night he has some kind of spiritual experience by almost freezing to death. After living inside for an extended period, fellow worker, don’t underestimate the elements.
The next day we go out to fly our drones and get footage to help with Bobby’s school project, but also footage that could be used by the Clean Water Alliance and for our own purposes perhaps.
It occurs to us that if we just talk or write about this situation people might hear us, but not fully feel the weight of what is a stake. So we film the pristine parts of the forest and we film parts that have already been destroyed. Specifically, the Homestake Mine.
Out in the Black Mining Hills of Dakota there’s a town named Lead, which has a giant ugly hole. The Homestake Mine was the largest, deepest gold mine in North America up until it closed in 2002. Now in 2018, it is a giant ugly hole with a gift shop and a golf course.
You think I’m joking, fellow worker.
I wish I was.
You can pay to hit a golf ball into this giant environmental disaster. What’s next the DAPL water slide? The fracking earthquake trampoline?
The company, Mineral Mountain Resources, responsible for this apocalyptic crater is now opening a new mine which they are comparing to Homestake.
Needless to say, fellow worker, we can’t let that happen. So we go and look for where the first exploratory drilling is happening based on some hints we’d received. We drive down a road made of razor sharp rocks and get to a fence made of “No Trespassing” signs. I guess they really don’t want us back there. We park the van and fly the drones over. See the work trucks and pools of poison and holding tanks, et cetera.
Instead of heading back to camp to eat some of Kiki’s delicious cooking by the fire, we decide it would be better to get a flat tire and get stranded in a small town. After all, the bar is filled with hostile local property owners. What couldn’t go wrong?
Find out next time, on the next installment of the Train Riding Subcommittee's Special Reportback!