Things huge
August 23, 2009

After “church” and some genealogy work, this was the day for things huge: Chris’ ego (just kidding), Cahokia Mounds and the St. Louis Gateway Arch. A nice start to the day was right here at home where we listened to one of Rev. Tom’s Sunday messages that was delivered after we left home. The subject definitely resonated with me; it was about living a wonder-filled life, appreciating our environment as much as we did at first before we possibly adopted a bit more jaded attitude to what is around us.

I tend to characterize myself as “easily amused”. For me, the message validated my habitual manner of really enjoying the smallest wonders that I see each day. I am grateful to be able to virtually revel in both mundane and extraordinary sights, smells, textures, tastes and sounds. It was a great talk; I swear I recognized some of the laughs I heard in the audio of the congregation laughing at one of Tom’s self-deprecating jokes, made me feel as if I were right there with them.

Now to the large: Chris was the motivator for our visit to the Cahokia Mounds. That is one of the extraordinary things in our environment, especially Monk’s Mound, the largest prehistoric earthen construction in the Americas. Its base covers more than 14 acres, larger than the pyramid at Giza and rises 100 feet.

The entire prehistoric complex was home to about 20,000 people, and includes numerous mounds for various purposes, including buildings, temples, burials and so on. It’s actually hard to comprehend the size of the place, larger than any Anglo cities in North America until 1800, bigger than London in 1250.

Outside the museum, we enjoyed watching a flintknapper of many years experience plying his trade. Flintknapping is the name of the activity of fashioning stone arrowheads, spear points and the like. Larry Kinsella has a website of fairly gargantuan proportions: flintknapper.com.

From atop Monk’s Mound, one catches a good view of the St. Louis downtown skyline and the Gateway Arch, which leads me to our second stop. Two big cities in one week: good heavens, what in the world is to become of us! Our “home” in Cahokia, Illinois, is just across the big river from St. Louis, so it was a matter of a few miles to jump on over there. We had some odd idea of seeing the Arch and zooming back; however, the reality worked out a bit differently as realities are wont to do.

First we shell out $5 to park (and happy later that we did when we spotted the local gendarme handing out parking tickets for those who pushed their luck), then we strolled quite a way through a lovely park, catching glimpses of the Arch through the trees until we were there. Zounds! The thing defies description! It is positively gigantic, seeming to touch the clouds. Lots of people enjoying the grassy park beneath and families looking out over the Mississippi.

We were clueless that there exists a museum underground just below or that one can somehow (an elevator, I hope) access the top inside the monument. Upon being clued in, we were prepared to do all of the above when we discovered that we were too well-armed to be allowed into the facility . . . and . . if we stashed our weapons (pocket knife and pepper spray) anywhere outside (under a bush?), we might be ticketed. For all I know, we were in danger of imprisonment, but at any rate, we escaped unscathed, but also without seeing the various features. Oh well, I’m sure I would have been terrified beyond reckoning to go up in that thing. Maybe we’ll work in it to the trip yet; if not, there’s always next time.

Our return trip took us on a nice walk along the waterfront where we spotted our first gulls of the trip - ring-billed, in this case.

I shot a photo of a cluster of marten houses, something understood by Midwesterners, but unheard of in my home in the West because it is out of their range. The birds consume voluminous amounts of mosquitoes, so are wooed to various sites by the placement of the type of homes they prefer.

Last night, Rowdy remained vigilant as he and I sensed rather than heard the engines of a boat on the nearby Mississippi River. In the dark, we heard its whistle sending a code understood by those who needed to know, but a mystery to me. It was lovely in its utility - two longs, a short and another long, then farther down river an aberrant repeat of the tone - misty, muffled.

At least that’s how the dream went. The light of day causes me to think my furry companion and I were hearing a train carting a load of coal. I prefer to stick with my more romantic version, however.

This "parque" is very nice - grassy, fairly quiet, shaded sites, and for sale, as many of them seem to be. Methinks the stress of running an RV park over a period of time is wearing.

As we relax outside at 7 p.m., I need to get a sweater. That is how wonderful the weather has treated us of late. Yesterday evening, my attire included sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt - what happened to summer?

Worst advertised sandwich spotted on a Hardee’s: Fried bologna on a biscuit with egg and cheese.