The journey over here was quite enjoyable although, thanks to a last minute appointment, much quicker than I would have liked. I had no time to detour through Yellowstone so it was I80 for most of the way. I started off on the tollway past O'Hare and then I88 southwest to pick up I80 near the Iowa border. I made a brief stop at the Herbert Hoover site in West Branch. This was a nice way of ending my stay in the mid west as they maintain a few acres of authentic tallgrass prairie next to the museum. Apart from the Hoover exhibits there was also a display on the Circus with a variety of acts being illustrated. The most bizarre was a series of pictures of JoJo the Dog-Faced Boy. I had heard him mentioned in Robert Rankin's books but had dismissed him as the author's creation [shudder]. I managed about 800 miles on the first day and finished up in Cozad, Nebraska. This will be memorable for me as I was woken up at 1:30 am by armed police and questioned (in a fairly polite way) before it was realised that I wasn't the person they were after. It just so happened that a serial rapist, wanted in 3 states, had checked in to the room opposite me and, coincidence of coincidences, had picked my surname as his alias. The night clerk, alerted by some dodgy looking i.d., had recognised him from one of those Most Wanted shows. I was allowed to snooze in another room until the SWAT team had been called in and the gentleman escorted away. Apparently there was $10k and at least one firearm in the room.
The next day I took a detour up US26, following the North Platte to Chimney Rock and then on to Scotts Bluff. The latter is simply stunning as you can drive to the top and look out over the plains beneath and glimpse the mountains further to the west. It is no surprise that this was a big landmark for the Oregon, Mormon and Californian trails. While I was this far from I80 I decided to make the most of it and stopped at Fort Laramie in the southeastern corner of Wyoming. This is very well preserved, much better than Fort Davis that I had visited in 1996. I then cut down I25 to Cheyenne and made it across the Continental Divide (twice) and as far as Rock Springs before it got too dark.
The next day I took another detour up US30 to Fossil Butte. Despite having taken geology at school I don't get that excited about fossils, no matter how large or well-preserved, but the setting is really beautiful, especially in the morning light. I took the hike on the Fossil Lake trail through the aspens and is was marvellously peaceful. I then looped south through Utah and back to Wyoming to rejoin I80 at Evanston. With my tank nearly empty I pulled off to refuel in Echo, Utah. This entailed stopping at the Echo Cafe to ask Frank to open the gas station down the road. Frank took off his hat and apron, locked the cafe and drove down to meet me. We chatted while he filled my tank and then I followed him back to the cafe where he cooked an excellent cheeseburger and dispensed the history of the town (he is the semi-official historian and has seen it all) and good coffee. This was just what I needed as I had been rushing far too much. Sitting waiting for the food and then sitting over the coffee and conversation was highly therapeutic. I headed through Salt Lake City, thus merging with the route I had taken migrating west in 1997, and onwards. I again stopped at the viewpoint for the Great Salt Lake and this time I also stopped for a look at Bonneville Salt Flats. I spent the night in the Scott Shady Court motel in Winnemucca (cheap and comfy). The next day it was over the Sierras, across the valley and back here. Woohoo!
My apartment is gradually becoming boxworld again, reversing the process of four years ago. As before I am trying to take the opportunity to clear out rubbish I have been hoarding. I have brought home a mere four boxes from work, but that is probably because I am relying on the electronic versions of many documents. I decided to recycle or give away the paper versions of anything I have on disc. The pile of papers I had chosed reached nearly five feet in height.
In order to maintain some balance I should repeat the
commentary I made before leaving my last address, listing
the things I will miss. Uncle
Pedro already has his own well chosen list for this area
but I had the disadvantage of not being a downtown dweller
and having to survive up in the burbs. Here we go;
This has been a weird day. WEIRD! Yes, all together now "Weeeeird!". Yup, that kind of weird.
I don't know if I should be celebrating or dying from stress. I'm pretty sure the answer is "both". I just want to fast forward to a month from now when I should be settled-in back west and I'll have dealt with the INS for the last time and I will not be trying to fake the "yes, of course I'm taking the project with the October deadline very seriously" kind of thing that I have to go through at the moment. Even the technician of mine who has seen pretty much everything that life has to dish up is laughing at my nonchalant act.
A word to the wise. When you are passing through a phase in your life which might best be described as weird, it is not a good idea to watch films, not in your native tongue, that are kind of surreal. Uh huh. You have been warned.
Mea culpa I forgot to acknowledge the cocktailmonkey's birthday. Many happy returns to you and I am glad to read that you had a great day. If the events in the above paragraph come to pass I should be able to offer you (and sundry monkeys) tea or crêpes or TNICNAZ in person, in about a month or so.
I shouldn't have been surprised that all of the car parks near the beach were full ("come back after 4 p.m.") but the ranger on duty at the inland centre was very helpful and pointed me to the Cowles Bog Trail which, at a little over 4 miles, takes you through the lakeside vegetation and over to Bailly Beach. At around lunchtime the trail was deserted and the sandy soil and resulting plants reminded me nicely of hiking in the Bay Area. The beach was strange as it is set aside for people to pull up in their boats, and there were many many boats anchored in the surf, each with a family group on the sand adjacent to their boat. It is a strange place for a picnic as, at the western end of the beach, there's a coal-fired power station that intermittently spits out an impressive amount of yellow smoke. Nevertheless it seems to attract plenty of people with big boats. I was sure that I saw Steve Martin playing in the water with some kids, but then again I was sure I ran into Red Green and Harold on the trail on the way back to the car. Having seen the volume of sand I tipped from my shoes before getting back in the car I am now convinced that the supposed inland migration of Mount Baldy is caused by this kind of transport.
A nice side-effect of the trip to the shore was that I could take the skyway to and from the city (I294 is a total mess at the moment) and see the skyline in toto. In fact I could also see it through the haze when I was standing on Bailly Beach. Chicago's skyline always impresses me and reminds me why I was attracted here in the first place.
"Mr. Duckman, I don't believe I've ever cut myself on a urine sample before."
One thing about hiking in the heat, but with a cool lake breeze, is that you don't realise just how dehydrated you are. Until later.
If this is really going to be my last year in this area maybe I ought to nip over to the state fair in Springfield next weekend. I was reminded of this by a big poster in the mall advertising the 400 pound cow made of butter ("a state fair tradition for 70 years"). Alas, I couldn't find a web image of this state tradition, although it looks as if Iowa has their own butter cow, and typically it weighs in at nearer 2000 lb. Hurray for the Hawkeye State.
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