August 20, 2018

ST. CLAIRE, Mo. : We had a peaceful evening at Red Hills S.P, but just as we ate our cereal the heavens opened, so we tossed the tent, sleeping bags, and other gear in the van and hit the road. As we left, a local camper mentioned she heard a forecast warning of tornadoes. The rain tapered off, but within miles we were driving through a monsoon that raked the cornfields—no tornado, but the sky was black enough.

By Flora, another 10 miles west, we stopped at (guess!) Walmart and stocked up on veggies and other grillable items. A bit embarrassed, I didn’t remember the name of the town, and when I asked the young lady at the checkout counter, she asked where we were from, where we were going, and so forth. “While you’re in Flora you should stop at the Dairy Queen,” she said. “It’s privately owned, and has great sodas, like marshmallow Coke.”

We reorganized the back of the van and pushed forward, through Iuka, Salem, Odin, and Sandoval. Missed a turn and took a spur that took us through Bartelso, where we got some nice photos. We jumped on I-64, ending our three-day connection with U.S. 50, staying on 64 across the Big Muddy into St. Louis.

We got a kick out of parking just outside Busch Stadium, then rode the tram to the top of the Gateway Arch. Eight trams, each holding five people snuggled against each other for the four-minute ride. The guide asks about claustrophobia. Sandy gulped, but went along. From the top, to the east you see the whitecaps on the brown Mississippi, and the suburbs of St. Louis to the west. We didn’t stay long, sprinting through a thunderstorm to the van.

At that point, we made our first big course change: onto old U.S. 66, the “Mother Road.” Finished in the 1930s, it was eventually abandoned by most cross-country travelers as the interstates were completed. Hundreds of restaurants, gas stations, motels, and eccentric attractions closed as their customers chose the faster routes from Chicago to Santa Monica. Outside St. Louis it runs more or less parallel to I-44, which replaced it.

We got off I-44 somewhere near Eureka, where we found Rte. 66 State Park. Didn’t look like much, and was closed, anyway. But we hung in there and managed to jump on the real Rte. 66 one exit later, in Pacific. We puttered on, parallel to I-44 but around 6:30 it was time to quit. We pulled off at Lewis’s Café in St. Clair, a fifties-type diner, just missing another deluge. I noticed the odometer: 1001 miles.

 

 

August 19, 2018

SUMNER, Il.: What’s striking about the small Midwestern places we’ve passed through so far is the sameness of economic hardship—that’s the impression, although superficial, obtained from quick glances.

Shuttered stores and factories, some collapsed by fire, and few pedestrians, even in the business areas. These places, like many others elsewhere, are built along a single commercial strip of fast food, pawnshops, gas stations, quick-cash establishments, and a few chain restaurants.  Seymour, where we spent Saturday night, branches from U.S. 50 for five miles. As a larger town it had an Applebees, Chili’s, pizza places, McDonald’s, Taco Bell, etc., etc., and of course, Walmart.

We got to 8:00 AM Mass at a small parish in Seymour after a night of groggy sleep at our Travel Lodge. I was impressed that the priest spoke bluntly about the sexual-abuse scandal, reported last week in PA. Then we hit 50 again, cruising back into corn country, the highway nearly needle-straight to the horizon. I thought Bedford, a larger town, would be an interesting place to walk. I had visited Bedford years ago and the daily newspaper, the Times-Herald, ran my newspaper column. But again, the small downtown had nothing open, not a soul on the street.

Beyond Bedford Sandy took over driving, and we stopped at one of the strangest places I’ve ever seen or would have imagined in the small-town Midwest: Bluespring Caverns and Mystery River Voyage—where you can take a guided boat ride through a cave through which a creek flows, to view critters who live there, including the “northern blind cavefish” and the “blind crayfish.” Bats and salamanders also can be spotted, they say. The brochure bills it as “America’s Greatest Voyage in Earth,” which I guess would be like padding a canoe through flooded Luray Caverns. Various minerals used to be mined in the creek, and you can “pan” for them by purchasing a small canvas sack. T-shirts are available in the gift shop. We passed and got back on the road.

Sandy stayed at the wheel across the Wabash River into Illinois. We were looking for Red Hills State Park, about 20 miles west of the river in Sumner. The parked turned out to be a pretty, shaded place, sparsely used, on a small lake. For $20 we got a nice level site. Looking for some groceries, we were directed to Casey’s General Store in Sumner, which carried neither vegetables nor beer.

A customer directed us to Walmart (again) in Lawrenceville, 12 miles away. Before making that hike, we drove up the main street of Sumner, lined with two-story brick buildings once occupied by various businesses—now all clearly long shut down. Farming and “ag services” employment remains, but otherwise not much beyond retail, and that only in Lawrenceville or points north.

 

August 19, 2018

SEYMOUR, Ind.: Saturday began inauspiciously at North Bend SP when, after a decent night’s sleep, I crawled out of the tent and tried to set up the propane grill to make instant coffee.

I then tripped over the ice chest and opened a three-inch-long cut on my left shin. Just like running in the Massanutten mountains.  Slathered it with Neosporin, but still messy, so Sandy took over the coffee duty. We ate some cereal and repacked the van just as a sudden thunderstorm opened up on us. We hit the road about 9:00. Passed through Parkersburg hoping to see some of it, but a half-marathon snarled the downtown traffic.

Instead we crossed the Ohio, staying on Route 50 for 30 miles to Athens, home of Ohio University. We picked up some bandages for my leg at Walmart. Found the attractive downtown area, which resembles Old Town Alexandria, but full of newly arrived college kids.  Got some lunch at the Court Street Diner, a fifties-throwback place, and walked part of the lovely OU campus, before heading back to 50.

U.S. 50 starts out of Athens with a nice fast four lanes for about six miles, but then you’re sent on a ramp that narrows into a two-lane country road. That goes on, through leafy but nearly empty countryside for 60 or so miles. Got off course in Chillicothe, a mid-sized industrial town, but after a couple of bad turns righted ourselves and heading back out to farm country. After a drive-through of Hillsdale, pleasant place of stately Victorian homes, we found I- 276, a shortcut to Cincinnati. Sandy was driving and, although heights make her nervous, navigated the two scary Ohio River crossings, first into Kentucky, from there into Indiana.

Unlike West Virginia, we had no clear plan for calling it a day in Indiana. I spotted Versailles State Park on the map, about 25 miles west of the river, but when we arrive, about 7 PM, decided we didn’t want another night of setting up camp. We pressed on to North Vernon, hoping to get a clean room at a chain hotel. North Vernon is not a place to stay: the archetypical depressed, scruffy, down-at-the-heels out-of-the way semi-urban Midwestern town. We didn’t even think about it.

Ended up in Seymour, 20 miles further along, somewhere mid-state, in a Travel Lodge—not fancy, but clean and reasonable. Looked like 350 miles today, as we unpacked ourselves for one night here.

 

Thanks for joining us!

On Friday, August 17 Sandy and I will be leaving on our road trip.

(This is Sandy pointing out another spectacular site near Tuba City).