Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, keep that trailer rollin’
August 9, 2009

We managed to get on the road nine minutes after our stated goal of 7 a.m., one hour after arising. The trick seems to be to skip breakfast and forego coffee until we’re moving, glad we brought the thermos. After setting out, we dined on some groaty sickeningly sweet peach turnovers Chris located at the market where one purchases sickeningly sweet items. I didn’t get to read the Sunday paper, daggone it; I do like my little routines.

We drove away under generally overcast skies looking as if a storm was imminent.

We’re seeing lots of hay and corn fields, the corn being planted so densely that I thought it surely must be for the purpose of making silage, and sure enough, we eventually came upon a gigantic feedlot operation that utilizes silage for cattle feed.

We’ve also noticed quite a few abandoned rock ranchhouses and something called the Star schoolhouse, also constructed of rock, complete with a sign in front outlining its history. We zoomed by that, much to my dismay, and I was disinclined to request a turnaround. We have a fairly long day of driving ahead of us, so will forego a few sights. Perhaps a second cup of coffee will awaken my curiosity reflex. . .

We’ve just entered the flat state of Kansas (sorry, Barbara, I couldn’t help myself; I know that’s not true no matter what Chris says). Continuing on the route of the Santa Fe Trail somehow never ceases to intrigue me as I try to imagine the unimaginable - what it was like for those hardy souls who passed this way long ago. Surely it was just as difficult for them to imagine what awaited them.

We are now going through almost all crop land, encountering lots of combines and other harvest equipment on the road. We’ve passed large packing sheds for various melons and onions plus additional feedlots.

We’re seeing miles of power poles canted at about a 30-degree angle. Some of the line has been replaced and others are waiting to be, with the replacement poles lying on the ground. We thought at first it had been caused by wind, but on second thought, it seems unlikely that would create this kind of symmetry. Were they mechanically pushed aside in order to continue service while replacing them?

Sara called while we’re running down the road (how did we ever get along without cell phones?) and asked where we are headed. Embarrassingly, neither of us could tell her. I think she was a bit alarmed that her parents are hurtling down the highway to an unknown destination. Actually, it even alarmed me a bit. I think I’d better take a look at the map. The problem was because of whatever’s going on in Wichita causing the RV parks to be maxed out and us not wanting to give up the search for Augustus Sherwood.

Crossing the plains, there has been major agriculture, feedlots, and we’ve come into some oil country with the pumps working away out in the grasslands and corn fields.

A fuel stop in Dodge City. Odd that we’ve just crossed the route of cousin Art Winans. He was here yesterday on his way home to Texas after attending the Sturgis, South Dakota, motorcycle rally. Even odder when I Iooked over and saw a sign for Winans Oil. I think I will look up what Winans kin lives here; that’s one of my ancestral names.

Arthur was pretty unhappy about the so-called Boot Hill in Dodge and a recent poorly contrived replica of the frontier Dodge City. When we came through here last March after visiting Sara, Ray and Trinity Grace in Topeka, we were moving on, the same as today. One of these days, we’ll spend a bit more time there. Despite Art’s displeasure, I would like to look around a bit, just not at that Chamber of Commerce silliness. Art indicates that a historic section was razed to make way for urban renewal - a shame.

We thought it was hilarious last year as we approached and followed the signage to an overlook. Naturally, we pulled out - wouldn’t want to miss a thing - and found ourselves overlooking the stockyards. Somehow, that was not even close to what we expected.

As usual, roadkill shows us that we’re traversing territory unlike home; raccoons are the pavement pancakes of choice here, later we see possums and armadillos.

Seeing the sights in southwestern Kansas . . .

The folks in Mullinville are having a blast seemingly celebrating blasts of wind. It is unknown to us just what precipitated the roadside display, but it was surely worth a stop and photos. I’d guess for at least a half-mile, there are fanciful metal sculptures, flags, gee-gaws and wind-catchers galore, hundreds of them. There seems not to be a theme other than fun. Some are labeled as historical figures, places, cartoons, peoples’ names and I don’t know whut all (thanks to Andy Griffith). Pictures don’t begin to capture the fantasmagorical quality of it. Maybe I will discover what it’s about if, indeed, it’s about anything at all.

Same unknown with the “big well” marked on our map as a point of interest, but unexplained beyond being denoted with a red square. Further questions regarding the Kansas Meteorite Museum. Surely someday we will stop to see everything we want to see. . .

We’ve just passed through Greensburg, a scene both harrowing and inspirational. I disremember exactly when the tornado hit it, but at least two years ago, literally wiping it off the face of the Earth. The populace is rebuilding, a task so daunting I can’t imagine it, and in the process “going green” in a major way. Even now, there are still FEMA tent annexes as an adjunct to remains of the hospital. Downtown Main Street is no longer a thoroughfare at all, but a construction site. I saw one old two-story brick building left in the entire downtown; the attached edifices on each side are gone along with everything else there.

We see many signs pointing the way to lakes, waterways and wildlife areas. It would be interesting to check them out another time, but not today. This is our longest driving day so far, and we are anxious to be at our destination, still a few hours away at 2 p.m.

It may be a small world, but it’s a huge country.

Warm and warmer . . .

We’re running along just north of the Oklahoma border with our truck thermometer registering 103 degrees as we go through Pratt. We were told that they had 110 a couple of weeks ago, the highest temps ever recorded in this part of Kansas. Yikes! At least it’s not humid on top of it.

We have crossed the Arkansas River five or six times. Each time as we go downstream, it is smaller instead of larger, until the last crossing revealed only a small stagnant pool. I’m guessing this reduction is a result of irrigation water being drawn out.

This area consists of rolling hills (relatively speaking) with nice little creeks wandering here and there, plenty of forestation in the creek beds and around most of the fields - very pretty country. The sky is bluer than what we’re used to in this part of the country, probably lower humidity causing it to look more like our brilliant blue at home. These roads, U.S. 160 and U.S. 281, are excellent byways with scarce traffic and lovely views of farms, farmhouses and scattered small towns. There is some diversity of crops through here, but primarily hay, corn, sunflowers and milo.

Well, we’re here in South Haven where it is currently 7 p.m. and one billion degrees outside after 11 hours on the road. I left home why??? This park is ridiculously odd - newish, grassy but trees none (oh, there is a cute one; I almost didn’t recognize it blending in with the grass). We have a narrow broken-up piece of concrete alongside the trailer: some sort of sidewalk? And the internet works not at all. Three nights here does not sound attractive. There will be no sitting out in the hot wind, but we’re too tired to change and really no place to change to (evidently the Wichita Open is causing RV parks to be filled). Chris is dealing with the resident computer geek trying to get our internet going. At least with that, I will be able to distract myself.

I refuse to go into anything that has happened since we pulled in here. Suffice it to say we are in our third space; the internet works, and it is cooler outside - life is good.

Best residential sign: Garden of Weeden’.

Also visit us at: www.goathillmusic.com