RIP “Kota” (or “Koda”)

A Special Delivery to a Dearly Departed Wild One

The year is 2019. We’ve arrived in California from Kansas City. We decide to spend the night in the Bakersfield, California train yard where our train to Portland will be rolling in sometime in the morning. This will be my first time train hopping to a bookfair (Seattle Anarchist Bookfair), and my first time riding trains with Kota.

I wake up to the sound of multiple trains rolling into the yard. I quick peek out of my sleeping bag to see if ours had arrived. I glance over and notice someone from our crew is already awake and watching for it. Despite numerous trains, ours still has not arrived. Its about 6am now but the excitement – in addition to needing to take a shit - prevents me from falling back asleep. So still half asleep I crawl out of my sleeping bag and begin walking over to a hidden spot behind some brush. While looking down to watch my step, and glancing around to make sure no rail workers can see me I scurry behind the brush and am immediately startled by someone already in there.

"haha! occupied" Kota whispers from a squatted position.

While attempting to suppress my burst of laughter I quick turn around to run back but can see railroad security cars in the distance moving closer. It wasn't worth the risk of running back and getting spotted so with my back still turned I waited. Kota finishes, hands me a roll of toilet paper and starts to leave but also notices the security nearby.

"you excited for this trip!?" they ask still smiling from the surprise encounter.
"hell yeah but I gotta shit first!" I respond.

Almost immediately after arriving back I can see our train rolling in. After rushing to get all of our sleeping bags in our packs and preparing to hop the train we discuss the potential of running into a blizzard. At the time it seemed like such a distant possibly. It was already 76 degrees on a clear morning. But we would be traveling through Dunsmir where the temperature was supposed to drop down into the negatives. The snow was supposed to hit later that night so we all needed a "pig with wings" for this trip.

"Yo, what kinda sleeping bag did you end up stealing from walmart?" I ask Kota.
"They didn't have very much so I got the only one that was big enough for me".
“Shit...is that thing gonna be warm enough though? It looked thin!" I said with a smile but with sincere concern. "Naw dude i'll be fine! I'm layered up and I've gone through cold weather before!" Kota had years more experiencing riding than I had so at that point I threw my pack on my back and said “Got it!”

Later that night around 9 pm the blizzard is raging harder than any of us ever imagined. Myself and another together on one car, Kota and another friend on another. I'm in sweat pants and a hoodie while totally zipped up in my sleeping bag while also inside an over-sized trash compactor bag while the snow continues to pile on top of me and the person next to me. All I can think of is Kota and that thin fucking sleeping bag. At the top of my lungs over the roar of the moving train I yell out "Do you think Kota is okay?"
"I don't know! This is pretty bad. I'll try texting them." the friend next to me responds.
"I already tried that - no response!" I shout back.

For the next several hours the snow and wind batter and shake the long freight train were riding. At this point it was only 1am. I couldn't stop worrying.

Eventually the freight train comes to a crawling stop. My guess is that the winds makes moving too risky for toppling over. I wonder if Kota is gonna use this opportunity to hop off and bail since they only had a thin sleeping bag and are probably freezing to death. The temperature is about -8 with a windchill of -13.

I woke up submerged in a pool of water. Apparently throughout the morning eventually we had rode through the blizzard and it was now 40 degrees. Apparently the two feet of snow that had piled on us melted and now everything was soaking wet. There was still no response from Kota or our homie that was with them. After a few minutes of trying to wring out wet clothes my friend realized we were slowly rolling into a yard full of workers. We decided to hop off since the train wasn't moving fast enough to pose a serious risk of getting fucked up, but still wasn’t ideal.

After awkwardly hopping off and scurrying into some nearby brush I was excited to see Kota had made it through the night well enough to still be smiling and laughing as we awkwardly cut across a nearby golf course, disrupting a tournament filled with people who looked at us like we were from outer space.

Immediately followed by relief was a burning question: How the fuck did Kota survive that trip with that thin-ass sleeping bag. The four of us, soaking wet and stiff from the frigid train ride poured into the nearest Starbucks and sat down.

“So how the hell did you survive THAT shit in that tiny blue sleeping bag?" with excitement and a big smile Kota shouted back "I didn't! I had to curl up with them (nodding to the friend who was on their car) with their bigger sleeping bag and share the warmth!".

Half exhausted and a bit dehydrated I almost fell out of my chair laughing.

The following week was filled with laughter and adventure. We all tabled the Seattle Anarchist Bookfair and enjoyed the company of Ria Del Montana who hosted us.

After that year anytime I told this story and praised Kota's survivability (with the help of a friend of course!) train hopping through a blizzard with almost nothing but a jacket and some coveralls I would tease about it being the best trip we've ever had.
Part of that was because for me it was one of the most memorable trips I've ever had. Riding through the blizzard was awful, but I can’t help but look back and want to re-live it all over again. Not just for the danger and excitement, but to also hear Kotas voice again. Kota knew that life all too well. As a close accomplice of Warzone Distro, and an outspoken vegan anarchist with a love for illegalism and nomadic life, Kota knew that such a lifestyle came with all types of exciting, dangerous, amazing, and terrible experiences. But of the adventures and trouble we both got into together that 2019 trip was my favorite. And anytime I would mention it to others Kota would always turn around with that wide fucking smile and say:

"yeah dude it fuckin’ sucked!".

I fucking love and miss you Kota.

-Flower Bomb

There are 8 Comments

1. How could you tell at a glance which train was yours?

2. What kind of car were you riding to be so completely exposed to the elements?

1. The type of train it is (BNSF, CSX etc), what kinda cargo it's carrying (stackers, trailers, or coal cars) and which direction it is headed.

2. Ironically we rode one that we expected to give us the most coverage. We were riding what's called a "pig with wings" which is a semi-trailer with flaps near the wheels, on top of a flatbed. It's excellent shelter from rain because one can lay down beneath the trailer in between the wheels. The blizzard was so bad that the wind was whipping the snow up from the ground and piling it in the area where we were.

RIP Kota

Living a feral life- instinctively, passionately, cherishing & embracing loves and sufferings- ends with reconnecting past to present, and the being’s wildness living on in others.

Did I miss something? What happened to this guy? How old was he?

stackers, trailers, or coal cars

Don't they have boxcars, gons and grain cars anymore?

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