Remote

A tumbleweed blows across the main street in Hankinson, North Dakota, as we search for a different place to stay. I’ve never seen a tumbleweed in real life before. I guess it’s not a good sign. We feel properly in the sticks here - the only decent bar in Lidgerwood burnt down a few weeks ago.

We join Richard, Barb and JP to film on a walk outside the town. There’s a small graveyard full of tombstones written in German. It’s sparse and austere countryside and the lakes still have ice on. Somehow even out here Richard finds someone to talk to and before long we have met a landowner who has a license to shoot turkeys and a son in law who knows how to call them. They’re in season so there may be some hunting on the cards. I’ve always wanted to meet someone who can imitate a female turkey and summon male turkeys the their death.

As we break bread later, Richard realises he’s left his shotgun out on the back porch at the Portable Ranch House, along with a bag which contains his tape recorder and all the notes for his Amends. He puts in a call to the local bar and manages to convince someone to drive out there and rescue the stuff from the rain. This man was born to hustle.