Painted Buffalo robe at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument
And the saga continues…
Day 2 started early. In the night, I had woke up to the sound of rain on the tin roof but I was warm and dry so I rolled over and closed my eyes. By morning the skies had begun to clear.
“March 19, 2017 – Friday – 6:00am – I left the campground after a stop at the outhouse. Everything is so wet here that the toilet paper was like a roll of Wet Wipes!”
I was still feeling lousy but at least the thought of turning around and heading home was no longer as appealing as the night before. It’s funny how a little sunshine can change your whole attitude. I tried to turn onto interstate by the campground but after a 10 mile detour through a twisty, residential area I realized two things.
#1 – the people who live here must not get many flashy campers like mine in their neighborhood.
and #2 – there wasn’t an on-ramp for the east bound lane anyway. So I turned back onto Hwy 30 until I could find one.
I usually don’t mind driving on interstate but for some reason that day it felt wild and out of control. Maybe it was because a semi blew past me causing the cubby door on the side of the camper to pop open and flap like a broken wing till I got pulled over to close it. Or, it might be because 50 miles down the road the check engine light came on and glowed like a neon bar sign on my dash. Dang!
This had happened a couple of months earlier and our son, Morgan had checked it out for me. He said it was nothing to worry about but 500 miles from home that’s all I could do – worry about it. So I pulled over, googled mechanics and found Kearney Ag & Auto Repair. Of course they were totally swamped when I arrived but a very nice man grabbed a hand-held tester and came out to see what my pickup’s computer had to say about the whole thing. It turned out it was a small problem with the emission system. The very nice man said the exact same things Morgan had said, “Don’t worry about it… It won’t leave you stranded on the side of the road… It’s a common thing for Chevy’s.” and finally, “Stay out of California because they will make you fix it right away which will cost over $600”. Then he smiled and said “No Charge. Have a nice day!” and waved as I pulled out of his lot. So, if you’re ever in Kearney, NE with engine problems, I would highly recommend this place!
I have this photo in my camper – I took it one evening on my way home from work. There were 2 newborn antelopes that dropped and hid right in the middle of our driveway and I happened to have a camera.
Since interstate travel hadn’t gone well earlier, I decided to stick to smaller roads where I could putz along at my own speed. My next stop was for gas in a little town on the edge of Nebraska.
“Mileage 626.7 – There were 2 gals running the gas station I stopped at and they were fascinated with my camper. I think I saw their noses pressed against the window while I was gassing up. I went inside to buy some lunch and they dropped everything and sprinted out the door when I offered to let them see it. They did ask one of the customers who was eating lunch if he would keep an eye on the place while they checked out Nadine though – which he seemed surprised at.”
I hope he didn’t rob them blind while they were oohing and aweing over my camper. Nadine was a mess as there were wet clothes and blankets draped everywhere to dry but these gals were so excited by the thought of having a little camper of their own that I wouldn’t surprised to hear that they were the proud owners of their own campers before the end of the week.
By mile 633.0 I was in Kansas. Kansas is a very friendly state. I got waved at more in the short time I was there than any other state I traveled through. It always amazes me how many times you cross a state line, visible only on a map and suddenly, the whole landscape changes. You’d swear sometimes, that you’d crossed into a whole new world. That happened on the Nebraska/Kansas line. One of the first things I noticed were the irises in the ditches. All of them were a beautiful cream color and I must have hit during the peak of the bloom. I rolled past one huge clump after another then began to think that these were probably very old plantings as most were in front of old farm houses. I imagined homesteaders planting the irises as they moved west, settling in this beautiful country far from the loved ones whose gardens the rhizomes probably came from. It’s a romantic thought and I don’t know if it’s true but you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be planting cream colored irises in our ditch next spring.
From the sand hills in Nebraska I drove into the rolling hills of Kansas. They were especially beautiful in spring with the huge old trees sending out new leaves and the wide sweeping furrows in the fields showing new shoots – most about 6″ tall. Kansas farmers are experts at planting every inch possible in their fields while still following the contour of the hills to slow water runoff. They were beautiful fields with curving furrows that ran in all directions but never once crossed another row. I would have stopped to take pictures but the roads didn’t have shoulders to pull off on so I tried to be content with enjoying the views that appeared over every hill. Several times I considered slamming on the brakes and screeching to a halt right there at the top of a hill to snap photos like a crazy woman but I didn’t – not even when I started seeing barns with painted ‘quilts’ on them. It was great. There were so many patterns and colors to see. And then I noticed the spectacular home gardens everywhere. In South Dakota I wouldn’t dare plant the outside garden till June but here they were well on their way. And Marysville, Kansas – you people got style! I loved the large, painted squirrels. They are everywhere – on street corners and in front of businesses. They were great, I’m just sorry I didn’t get a photo!
Things were finally looking up, but it didn’t last. Before long I was back into drizzle and eventually rain. Since I still had the leak on Nadine’s front windows to contend with I found a hardware store and stocked up on weather stripping and Great Stuff – just incase the weather stripping didn’t work, then spent 15 minutes sealing up the leaky windows.
“Mile 845.0 – Atchison, KS – I was going to stop here for the night but I feel like driving further to see if I can get out of this rain. I was getting desperate for gas as well but entered town through a residential area that didn’t seem to have many gas stations. The one I saw was so tight I didn’t think I could wiggle Nadine in. I decided to pull over and Google one when I saw my sister had sent me a message. It was still raining hard and the only place I found to pull into was a curb with at least 6″ of water running down it. I was lost in suburbia hell in the middle of a flooded city, nearly out of gas and afraid I would be washed away! I was about to panic when I read her message asking if I was OK. Somehow she knew I wasn’t. I didn’t have a very strong signal so we messaged back and forth and she started navigating for me – from 800 miles away, which was just what I needed.”
She led me to the nearest gas station where I put over 23 gallons of gas in my 25 gallon tank. We eventually did get to talk and she had me laughing before we hung up. As it turned out, the station she sent me to was right at the intersection for the road I needed to turn onto for the next leg of my journey – even though she didn’t know that at the time. She’s a pretty good navigator – maybe next time I should take her with me!
I had planned to see Emilia Earhart’s house in Atchison but it was so hard getting around on the narrow streets in a downpour during rush hour that I headed out of town, crossed a huge bridge and somehow managed to find Missouri. I never saw a single sign saying it was the Missouri river I had crossed or that I had entered the state of Missouri but I knew I had.
Once again, crossing a state line changed the scenery completely.
“Instantly, I was in heavily wooded country with small hills. The trees and shrubs are so thick I’m not sure you could even walk cross country. The roads are crazy – up, down, twists, turns – it’s like driving on a roller coaster. I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto.”
“Mile 864.0 – Dear Lord, I just barely missed running over the biggest damn toad I’ve ever seen. He was huge and sitting in the road. At first I thought it was a rock but right before I went over it, it turned it’s head and looked at me!!!!!!! It was as big as my hiking boot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If their toads are that big I can only imagine the size of the insects they eat. From there it was a veritable Who’s Who of roadkill wildlife – muskrats, opossums, snapping turtles and armadillos flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if it was because it was spring and the animals were more active or if this ‘Roadkill Armageddon’ was normal but after a few miles it appeared the local drivers may have had something to do with it. I didn’t know that ‘No Passing Zones’ were just a suggestion but apparently in Missouri they are. Somehow, after a few new gray hairs I made it to Watkins Mill State Park where I got one of the last camp sites available and managed to back my camper in without mishap.
I don’t know if it was my hair standing on end, my wild, bloodshot eyes or my never-ending nose blowing that made the manager take pity on me but I got the better of the 2 remaining sites for half the price. You should have seen the couple that showed up 15 minutes later and got the last site. That site was a nightmare. It was on a hill, turned sharply off the road and it didn’t help that the rig that pulled up was at least 35′ long. But the old guy driving it was obviously a professional. His wife stepped out, waved her hand a couple of times (possibly at insects) and the fifth-wheel camper slipped into the angled, narrow, twisted, hillside site like it had angels guiding it. I swear the trees lifted their branches as it passed. I was impressed but exhausted so I was thrilled to get a hot shower, a little supper and into bed early.
Tomorrow… St Louis.
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