When I'm not riding my bike, I really enjoy sitting on my couch and watching tv. In particular, I'm a big fan of documentaries. My favorite one of all time is called "Plight of the Wildebeast." It's about the annual migration of Wildebeasts across the Serengeti of Africa. Every year, thousands of Wildebeasts start on one side of the Serengeti and travel across the Serengeti River to the other side of the Serengeti. As far as I can tell, once they get to the other side, they turn around and head back to where they started, just so they can complete the trip again the following year.

Every single year, they make the same trek across the same lands, across the same path and the same part of the Serengeti River on their way to the other side of the Serengeti. Since they travel the same route and travel in large herds, they are easy to find and easy to document. Of course, the human beings that filmed the documentary are not the only species in Africa that are aware of this migratory custom of the Wildebeast. There is another animal that resides in Africa that is aware of this fact as well, the crocodiles.

The crocodiles rule the Serengeti River. They are the largest and most ferocious reptile in the land and wade around the shallow waters just waiting for unsuspecting creatures to dip themselves in the river to get a drink. When these naive animals enter the water, the crocodiles appear out of nowhere and devour their prey. It is a brutal, but often comical event to witness. The poor animals have no chance whatsoever, the crocodiles are so cool and adept at snatching up whatever comes close to their domain.

Now back to the Wildebeast. Every year at the same time and the same place, the thousands of furry creatures come mosying along to the Serengeti River, look at the water, look across the river at the 25 foot cliffs on the other side, look at the hundreds of crocodiles just sitting in the water, and then decide to cross the river. Perhaps they wait a day or so before crossing to try and size up their odds, and pick the best route with the best chances of survival, but the crocodiles never swim away. They just wait for their feast to come waltzing right up to them.

Sure enough, eventually the Wildebeasts charge into the water and try and make it up the cliffs on the other side before the crocodiles eat them. Before the crossing is done, the water turns blood red and is littered with floating, dead, carcasses. The crocodiles kill hundreds of the stubborn beasts, enough meat to sustain them for months.

It is comical because the Wildebeasts always look surprised that the crocodiles are waiting for them. They often play games with each other charging towards the water 5 at a time, then usually one or two stop right at the waterfront, let the others go first and get mauled by the crocodiles, then they try and cross hoping their friends offered a diversion that would allow them to cross safely. Some do, but when they try and climb up the cliffs on the other side of the river, invariably, they would slip and fall right into the waiting jaws of their predators.

Whenever I watch this documentary, I always start out rooting for the Wildebeasts. I wish that at some point, the Wildebeast tribe would elect a new leader who could instill some fresh ideas into the heard, the first being to try a different route across the river. Just once, you'd think one enterprising young Wildebeast would raise his hand during a herd meeting and challenge the authority of the establishment and suggest crossing the river at a different point, or at a different time of the year. Even without a slick powerpoint presentation or large glossy posters, the young Wildebeast could provide a compelling argument for breaking out of the Wildebeast rut and tradition.

Every time I watch this documentary, I yell at my television screen. I offer advice, I offer a different route, I plead with the poor Wildebeasts to slow down, take their time, get to the river a few weeks behind schedule. I try to tell them that certain death is their future if they keep crossing the Serengeti at the same time and the same place every year. But I fail and the Wildebeasts continue on their path and every year face slaughter at the hands of the crafty crocodiles when they reach the river. By the time the herd reaches the river, I get so fed up with the Wildebeasts and their "tradition," that I switch my loyalties and start cheering for the crocodiles. I point out the week beasts, the ones who have been injured on the way, the ones who offer their friends up as a sacrafice so that they can survive, I tell the crocodiles which Wildebeasts deserve to die. Of course, I know they can't hear me, but I enjoy interacting with my tv anyway, and perhaps this interaction is why I love this documentary so much.

Now you're probably wondering why I just spent all of this time telling you about my favorite documentary. Well, there are two reasons. One, I'm in Kansas and there is nothing in Kansas worth telling you about. It's flat, dry and hot. The people are nice, but you wouldn't be reading my journal entries if all I had to tell you was that Kansas is hot, dry, and flat. The other reason why I'm telling you about this documentary, is because I'm beginning to feel like the Wildebeast.

I, like them am travelling from one side of a place to another. In the middle of my travels, I will have to cross a great river, the Mississippi. While I don't think I'll have to face crocodiles, I will have to face heat, humidity, the Ozarks, and the Appalachians. Based on the conversations that I've had from bikers heading west, these struggles are worse than any 30 foot crocodile.