The Finish, a Bit Road-Weary

The drive to Rapid City was long and arduous, but the expectation was worth it. We got there in time to visit the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore (WOW!! Simply Wow!) I never expected to feel the awe of the faces on the mountain as much as I did. It is a bit mesmerizing, a bit humbling, and a bit deeper respect for what it all took for us to have the liberty and space this country has (even with all its foibles.)

Then, the Badlands has an effect different than expected, as well. We walked some short paths to see holes that look almost like sunken living areas, but can’t be any of the sort. Or, hills of rock that look like Cathedrals, or look like rows of soldiers standing in front of a hill. Or large hotel fronts with multiple stories of window-like holes. … all of this is out of some form of rock which is grey to brown to black, and then sand colored. And, massive!

Leaving South Dakota Badlands and going into Nebraska is almost eerie. All the farmland in SD looked the same: huge fields on soft rolling hills or else just flat as a pancake for as far as the eye can see. Just before we reached the Nebraska border, we began to see softer and more layered—billowed, small hills. In Nebraska the billowing hills began to look more undulating and continuous, soft (sand hills they call them), all covered with a short grass turned yellow-beige, but not as dead as it looked and that called for cattle, and many fed on this grass, be it a grass or a grain. In a few miles we began to see cattle on the sand hills, often with a large flat area, where we also saw how the farmer handled his cattle far from home, There were windmills of the old midwestern style, all running and in good condition, obviously providing water for the herds.

The undulating sand hills went on for miles and miles! In fact it was about 20 miles North of North Platte before the sand hills stopped and huge fields of corn, soybeans, and another strange crop were all around us. so, the “Cornhuskers” nickname comes to life! (North Platte—23,000 strong looks as though it must be a shopping area for more than one county—it has all the chainstores from Cold Stone to TGI Fridays!)

We slept well, then when our day started (today, the 28th), we headed toward home. We each guessed a total mileage for the trip and when we got home, I found out how bad a guesser I was; maybe a little trip fatigue, I don’t know.

Iowa: Number 50!! was not very far into our driving. We didn’t go very far, stopping in Des Moines, Iowa. I would classify DM as a “great city,” not only the capital of the state, but the most visited in Iowa by a large margin. I’m sure you can tell by now we could have stayed several days if not a full week in any of about a dozen cities visited, and Des Moines would fit that list! What a magnificent, almost overwhelming, State Capital building they have. Look it up, their pro-pics are better than anything we would take. The next day starts more directly toward home.

Iowa was less like the great Northern Midwest and more like Illinois and Indiana (Iowans would probably disagree), so we didn’t feel a need to slow down or stop much in this state. Besides, we were starting home—no need to dilly-dally! 

When I was growing up and professional baseball was very dependent on their minor league programs there was a league known as The 3–I League. It was made up of teams from the 3 states abutted which started with the letter I—Iowa, Illinois, Indiana. I didn’t live close enough to any of the towns in Indiana so as to follow the league on radio, but the Indianapolis News and Star daily papers had pretty good written coverage. Driving across the 3 states in one day—starting in Iowa, crossing Illinois and stopping in Southern Indiana gave me time to remember some of the 50s news about the teams. It also gave me a rush of appreciation for those players’ love of the game. No trains, no planes, just un-air conditioned busses.  Must have been some miserable days and nights.

We spent the last night on the trail in a Cracker Barrel parking lot, then the almost 8 hours home the next day. Home, at last. We will long have more words to say about the trip; the wonders of the land and lakes, the surprises of history, the awesomeness of the memorials, and the clearer understanding of why the Midwest is known as the “Breadbasket of the World” in its agriculture.

Just a word about the people: In 1973 we moved from Danville, IL to Oxford, AL. We had some friends from Illinois whose nomadic history had them moving often from Georgia, to Virginia, to Danville, IL, then on to Nebraska and briefly to Idaho. They once told us the the further North and the further West they went the friendlier people were. We found very friendly people the way we went — to Michigan , UP Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, then Iowa to finish the 50, and we have to agree everyone was friendly, and interested in talking with us. We love America—the land and the people! Yet, back home to Sweet Home, Alabama! is just right!

Thanks for reading, the Elder.