After a stormy night in the Fishberry Campground, we awoke to a beautiful sunny day. We are in the part of Nebraska known as the Sandhills region. The land is marked by small rolling hills of sand covered with green vegetation.
We stopped in a local IGA store for some supplies. Everyone was very friendly. Typical small town atmosphere. The store owner visited with us for a while. He was pleased to hear we travel the back roads instead of the interstate. He said most people miss what the area has to offer. He went on to tell us about the various sights and area amenities available to the traveler.
We traveled Routes 20 and 275 across Nebraska to Omaha City. The fields were sown in corn, soybeans and alfalfa. Everything was very green. For much of the way the land was very flat. At times I found myself drifting off to thoughts of Florida and home. The flat land and straight roads that disappear into infinity are a familiar sight back home.
Though the scenery is not the kind that brought out the camera every few minutes, it was still very pleasant to the eye. We saw families of wild turkeys, various livestock and a flock of sheep stopping traffic oblivious to the danger they were facing. Blowing the horn had no effect whatsoever. They were busy munching weeds along the pavement and bounding around on the road. They were like kids that got out of the fenced yard, experiencing freedom for the first time. Several cars and trucks waited patiently for their frolic to move off the highway. Such patience would not be found where we call home.
We stopped for gas in a small country village. Trucks filled with cattle loaded for market were parked all around. The rich smell of manure greeted me as I stepped from the MH. I noticed the poor cows with big brown eyes peering out the slots in the trailer, totally ignorant of their fate. I thought of my dog. I miss her very much. She must have wondered for a time where I went. By now her life has gone on without me forgotten in her immediate memory. Dogs are like that. They don’t reason or reflect back on things. They just live for now. Like these poor cows. Their days are numbered but they don’t have a clue.
While pumping gas, a young woman pulled into the pump next to me. Rap music was pounding out its message from the radio. She was covered with piercings and tattoos.
She was wearing a pair sweat pants that said, “Dream On”, on the rump. Believe me that wouldn’t be a dream. It would be a nightmare. It seems the ways of the city have effected the ways of the country. I thought all the girls our here listened to country music, rode horses, wore tight jeans and cowboy hats. Stereotypes often fail.
Something else I have noticed across the west is the many grades of gasoline and pricing. Utah had the highest prices. They, along with other states out west sell 85 octane as regular. 87 octane is the middle grade. I had to buy the middle grade to meet the manufacturer requirement for my engine. That added cost to my travels. Also here in Nebraska, the plus grade is cheaper by a dime than the regular grade. I asked someone about it. The regular is more expensive because it has no ethanol in it. The plus grade has 10%. They also sell E-85. Some stations have were you can select how much ethanol you want and it is priced accordingly. E-85 was about a dollar a gallon less than regular gasoline. I am told it gets about half the mileage though.
As we crossed over the Missouri River, we noticed it was very high. We had looked up several state parks along the river for possible campsites. When we exited for one, the road was closed. I asked a man how I could get to the park. He told me I couldn’t. It was under many feet of water. He said his home has been under several feet of water for a month. They have had more rain than normal for this time of year.
Interstate 29 is about the only north south highway to take us into Missouri through Iowa. A check of Woodall’s, our campground directory, had no listings for the entire stretch of highway down to Saint Joseph, Missouri. This did pose a problem. I had been driving for hours. It was 6:30 PM and I was tired. We ended up parking at a truck stop where they had an area for overnight parking. We drove way off to one side and parked for the night. The lot was large. No trucks parked near us. We had a quiet nights sleep.
In the morning rain was threatening. Dark clouds hung low on the horizon. It looked as though we were in for our first rainy day of traveling. We got off the interstate at St Joseph and took Rt 36 across to Macon where we picked up Rt 63. This was a very lovely highway along green fields and woodlands.
Darlie was driving this morning. When it came time to get gas, she pulled into a station. All the lines were filled except the one next to the building which had a very narrow entry. She thought she could make it in there. I told her to try it. I had a vision of her getting stuck, unable to go forward or back. She maneuvered like a pro watching her mirrors and the clearance between the roof of the building and the top of the MH. She made me proud. Several people were watching. You could see the look of amazement on their faces. She was quite satisfied with herself too.
The rain we had expected seemed to be moving along ahead of us. The road was wet in places but we never ran into the rain. The rivers and fields are flooded everywhere along our route. One stream we went over was up to the bottom of the bridge. It didn’t look like it would be long before it was up on the road.
We had found an interesting state park on the map along I-70. It is Graham’s Cave State Park. We were surprised to find the place empty except for one other camper. We had our choice of sites. We thought about walking down to the cave but we were chased back inside by mammoth horse flies that buzzed and zoomed around us.
We are tired from a couple of days of long drives. We will rest and go to bed early. In the morning we will go over to our wintertime Florida neighbors house to visit. They live near the small town of Bellflower, Missouri.
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