It could have been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

While in Nebraska, my brother helped me plan a route east that avoided Chicago traffic.  When I set it up on Map Quest, however, I must have done something very wrong, because my directions (which I didn’t look at until the night before our Chicago-avoidance trip) included 3 U turns in 2 miles.  Not a good thing when you are driving nearly 40 feet of vehicle and tow bar.   

JIm and I decided that on our way out of Bourbonnaise, we’d fill our ever-hungry RV at a gas station, stop at a Starbucks across the street so we could use their WIFI and look up Don’s route on both my laptop and Jim’s IPhone, and then hook up the tow car and rig in a nearby parking lot.  But we couldn’t find the Starbucks or the gas station.  Heading back to where we thought the Starbucks was, we turned down a dead end street;  luckily, Jim is good at the art of the 7-point turn.  Then, when we got to Starbucks, Jim’s IPhone died.  

Our luck turned when we found a Verizon Store where the IPhone was easily fixed.  And the trip was was pretty and easy (Thanks, Don -- you are the King of the traffic avoidance route)

So now we are at Chain O’Lakes State Park in Albion, Indiana, in western Indiana about 20 miles north west of Fort Wayne. The park is two miles wide and four mile long and has 13 lakes, nine of which are connected by channels. It would be fun to come back here with kayaks. 

Bev on a bridge over a channel connecting two lakes at Chain O’ Lakes State Park in Albion, Indiana.

Jim and Cooper in front of Sand Lake.  Moments after this photo was taken, Cooper jumped off this pier into deep water, moss and muck.  In the 9 years I’ve known Coop, he’s never jumped into water over his head so I’m not sure what the enticement was. 

Cooper modeling his mud bath.  Jim washed him off and put him in the Honda to dry before we let him back in the rig.  The Honda smells great.

There’s no noise in Illinois

I can’t get Jim -- whose only foible is that he corrects my pronunciation -- to stop saying “Ill -i- noise.”   Now I think he’s doing it just to irritate me.  Or maybe it’s because we’re in Bourbonnais, Illinois and that’s just too many silent s’s to handle. 

Boubonnais is about 60 miles south and slightly west of Chicago.  It seems like a hopping little town and is the home of the Chicago Bears summer training camp.  Nearby Kankakee, however, which is mentioned in the song “City of New Orleans” by Arlo Guthrie,  has seen better days.   In 1999, it was rated last by Places Rated Almanac (actually it was all of Kankakee County and not just the city) so I guess none of those better days happened in 1999 or, maybe since then.

But the park we’re at -- Kankakee River State Park -- is nice. It’s big and shady and has a good walking/bike path.  And a nearby river is always a plus.

View our the back window of our rig at Kankakee River State Park.  We've had a request -- make that a demand -- that we start posting more photos of ourselves.  OK, OK, we'll start doing that with the next post.

Pearl Button Capital of the World

Were still near Muscatine, but moved from Fairport State Recreation Area to Shady Creek, a campground run by the US Army Corps of Engineers just a couple of miles up the Mississippi.  The Corps has 26 campgrounds along the Mississippi River and it only cost us $9 to stay here.  One crazy rule at the Corps campgrounds is that you can’t just take a non-reserved spot by filling out a reservation card and putting it in a metal container, or “iron ranger” as Jim calls them, and then putting a reserved sign at your campsite.  Instead, you have to register in person during a specific couple of hours each day.  We were only second in line and it took 45 minutes to register.  By the time we left, there was a big line behind us, but they were all talking about the local sights and didn’t seem to mind.  Oh, the more relaxed life of the retiree.  

We took a hike at Wild Den State Park which is just a few more miles up river.  Our hike started at at the Pine Creek Grist Mill, built in 1848 by Benjamin Nye, one of the area’s first settlers.  Attention post office folks:  He also built the first post office in Muscatine County in 1838.   The forest is full of oak, walnut and maple trees and has lots of underbrush.  Jim, who was a forest ranger in Oregon for 20 years, said deciduous forests “creep him out.”  We were trying to pin point why, and decided it’s the  underbrush (you don’t have much of that in a pine forest and it’s easier to get off the path if you have to) and the moldy/musky smell from all that organic decay that makes the soil so great.  The crazy cicadas sounding like a hundred electric high-tension wires buzzing at once don’t help either.   Jim will either get used to it or be creeped out for a good many more hikes. I’m betting on the former.

Fact about Muscatine:  The MIssissippi River near here was once so filled with mussel shells that the bottom of the river was like a cobblestone street.  In the late 1880s, a German immigrant and button cutter names John Boepple thought the mussel shells made great shiny buttons, and by 1905, 1.5 billion buttons --- 40 percent of the world’s supply -- were manufactured out of Muscatine.  The industry declined by the mid 1900s -- tourist literature says the mussel beds were over fished and people preferred “new, more durable materials” --- I’m thinking plastic buttons and metal zippers.  

View of the Mississippi River from the back window of our rig.

Wikipedia says there are 2,500 species of cicadas around the world.  I think there’s a family reunion in Muscatine and most of them made it.  For those of you who live in the west and aren’t familiar with cicadas, as they mature they molt, literally climb out of their old skin and often leave their former shell on a tree -- and that shell is what you see in this photo. I read where their “song” can be as loud as 120 decibels. Fortunately, they don’t often sing right next to your ear.

On the banks of the Mississippi

Wow.  I’m writing with a beautiful view of the Mississippi River, and it's just a softball toss away.   Admittedly, my underhand pitch is still pretty good, thanks to my grade school baseball coach and now current mayor of my Ohio hometown.  But that river is close.  And it’s big. And beautiful.  And a little scary to someone whose lived in the desert for 37 years.  Again:  Wow.

We’re just outside of Muscatine, Iowa.  Jim and I drove here from Stuart, Iowa, where we spent a night for free at Dale Valley Winery thanks to an organization called “Harvest Hosts.”   That was our second stay at a Harvest Host place: I’ll do a separate post on them later.   

Near Stuart, we did our first search for “biggest ball of twine” types of things.  We saw the “Friendly Gas Station Man,”, a huge, waving gas station attendant commissioned in 1934 by the Kalbach Oil Company, and a bank Bonnie and Clyde robbed of $2000 on April 16, 1934, just one month before they were shot in Louisiana.

We also saw “Freedom Rock,” a 56-ton boulder and canvas for a local artist who has painted the entire rock in a patriotic theme around Memorial Day for the last dozen years.  At the request of friends and relatives, he’s incorporated the ashes of 16 veterans in his paint.

We’ve stayed off of I-80 for most of our trip so far, but took the interstate from Lincoln to Stuart to Muscatine.  Jim said Iowa reminded him of the Willamette Valley in Oregon where he’s spent much of his life, as it’s rolling, green, and has lots of trees.  The section of I-80 about 75 miles before Des Moines also has a lot of wind turbines.  And, as we got closer to Des Moines, the traffic really picked up, in part to the Iowa State Fair, which gets over 100,000 visitors each year and is celebrating the 100th year of the Butter Cow.

View of the Mississippi River from the back window of our rig.

The Dale Valley Winery in Stuart, Iowa let us stay overnight for free as part of a program called "Harvest Hosts."  You can barely see our rig through the trees at the far left.

Freedom Rock is repainted in a different patriotic theme every May and finished on Memorial Day.  The artist is Iowa native Ray "Bubba" Sorensen.

 In 2006,  veterans on their way to the Vietnam Memorial with the ashes of recently deceased Vietnam vets stopped at the rock while the artist was working on it.  They asked the artist if they could sprinkle some of the ashes at the base of the rock; artist suggested the ashes be incorporated into the paint so the ashes would not blow away.  Since 2006 more ashes have been added and 16 Vietnam veteran's ashes are now part of this helicopter scene.

Wind turbines and farms in Iowa.

Just the Four of Us

Near Victor, Iowa:   Jim and I are traveling with our dog, Cooper, a Blue Heeler mix.  We also have a fourth traveling companion:  A Philodendron named Phil Junior. 

Phil has been Jim’s sidekick for over 40 years; the two of them have lived in over 14 homes in three states, several time zones and large changes in altitude.  The longest Jim and Phil have lived in any one house was our home in Salt Lake City.  The itch to move is probably one of Jim’s motivators to live in a motor home.

But back to Phil.

Just days before we left Salt Lake City, we were giving Phil a haircut when I tugged on a vine and pulled out the only part actually attached to dirt.  OMG.   We hastily reburied Phil’s apparently minute root system and tasked my daughter and son-in-law with heavily watering said root system until Phil re-established.  We also discovered part of Phil on the floor, plunked that part in an empty spaghetti sauce bottle filled with water, and named him Phil Junior.

Phil Junior travels in the back of the rig near a big window while secured with wire to a beverage holder.  When we park, he moves to the bath room for close access to both a window and a skylight.  My Google research says it takes 5-6 weeks for a Philodendron to establish roots.  We’re waiting.  In the meantime, Ashley and Shad: Keep watering Phil Senior.

Cooper sleeping between the the driver and passenger seats.

Phil on the way to Stuart,  Iowa.