After a restful two nights, we hit the road again. Today’s destination: Cleveland, OH.
We consulted a new guide today, a book we picked up at the Cracker Barrel gift store. (Anybody else think it’s kinda weird that a restaurant has a gift store that is not solely dedicated to their own merchandise? Then again, I did buy stuff here, so guess it is a good idea…)
The book was called, appropriately, “The Great American Road Trip.” It pretty much summed up our trip—big, crazy and wacky sights to see all across America! I was a little bummed we didn’t know about the book at the beginning of the trip, but turns out, we hit many of the cool sights anyway. I was a little excited and worried all at the same time how many of the sights we’d seen, and how many we went out of our way to see (hello, Corn Palace, I’m talking to you!).
I gave the book to Mark and told him we’d be driving through Kentucky, Ohio and maybe Indiana (have I mentioned I’m really bad at geography?). I told him to find us some cool stuff to see along the way. He immediately called out the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, or the Wall Drug in South Dakota.
“Oh!” he said, surprised. “Let me look again then.”
But he did make one good find, a random castle in Ohio. It was called Loveland Castle, and was made from rocks dredged from the river beside it. We checked the GPS and found we’d be going right past it—it was only four miles off the highway.
We drove through some lush Ohio neighborhoods, turned down a little road, and suddenly, there it was. It was kind of surreal.
Apparently, somebody built it as a place for Scouts (boys and girls) to have campouts. It would be an awesome place to camp out! There are lush gardens surrounding the castle, a lookout point over the river, and a fire ring down by the water. I was not expecting to see a castle on this trip, and this was a very cool one.
We spent maybe 30 minutes checking it out. Back on the road, we passed through some more cute neighborhoods, and at one point, passed a deer right on the side of the road! We also spotted a yard sale, which we did not pass. Edra wanted to see what kind of wares you could buy in Ohio, and the most obvious answer was coats. Lots of them. Big, thick winter coats, which told me the winters are a little colder than in California. The home owner was complaining that he hadn’t sold many coats, but it was almost 100 degrees and humid as all get out. Just looking at those coats made me pour sweat, I couldn’t imagine actually trying one on.
Edra didn’t find anything, and the owners weren’t nearly as colorful as the yard sale owner we’d met in Illinois. (He drove up on a motorcycle from somewhere when we stopped, and then told us about all the great aunts he had in California. He spoke about the riots—yes, the Los Angeles riots in 1992!—and struggled to remember the lyrics from a song he’d written about it.)
There was a whole lotta nothing in Ohio, at least nothing new. We’d seen most of it before—giant rolls of hay, corn, the occasional barn. We got some occasional barns, and things got a little crazy when we drove through Columbus—we saw a car crash, a cop checking out a dead deer on the roadside, and an 18-wheeler that flipped on its side on a curvy off ramp.
“Be careful,” I told Edra, who was driving. “There’s all sorts of crazy stuff going on right now!”
We stopped for lunch somewhere far out in the country, but changed our minds as quickly as the lady changing her baby on the tables. (Good eye, Edra!) That was really the only really scary dirty place we encountered along the trip, and we hurried to get away. We found a cute little diner a few miles up the road, although it had a curious-looking clientele. The women all wore skirts and flowered shirts, and piled their hair up high on their heads. The little girls all wore flowery dresses and bright bows in their long hair. We couldn’t figure out if they were some kind of cult, polygamists, or a Tiaras and Toddlers audition. Or maybe this was just the way small-town Mid-West folk dressed. But it was still pretty odd…
We did pass some other nice places on the way...like Ashland, OH.
Ashland was also home to Grandpa’s Cheese Barn. We weren't sure what that was, but we could't pass it up--we had to stop.
The first thing I saw made me literally clap my hands in excitement--an Amish buggy! (I am not at all religious, but I am fascinated by religion, and religious people, and I've never met an Amish person before.)
There was a little Amish boy playing by the buggy. He was the cutest little guy, with blond hair, a long sleeve shirt, a vest and pants on. The humidity was too much for me in shorts and a t-shirt, but it didn't seem to bother him at all.
He was swinging around a pole, and walking around the buggy. He was a sweet, quiet kid, and when I silently waved to him, he waved back.
We saw his mom, who was selling baskets under a tent. She was also dressed in Amish clothes (duh!), a long dress and a bonnet.
The baskets were adorable, but fragile. I really, really wanted one, but could tell there was no way I'd get it home without crushing or breaking it. The Amish woman told us all about how she made them, and was just really nice. (And no, I don't have any pictures of them to post--I really wanted to take some, but I know they don't like to be photographed, so I was respectful of that. But here's a pic of half their buggy!)
Grandpa's Cheese Barn was a fiesta of crackers, soup mixes, jams, sauces and yes, cheese. It was fun to sample the different salsas, and we bought a couple soup mixes. But we were most excited at the ice cream counter below, where we bought some gigantic cones.
Cleveland was just a couple hours away. We rolled into town in the late afternoon, at the same time a Jehovah's Witness conference let out. (Seems like all the hotels we picked were popular with the religious groups!) There was a huge line at the elevators, but once we got upstairs, we were delighted to find a huge room. Even better, there was a free happy hour below, so we left our bags behind and hit that.
Mark and I decided to explore downtown Cleveland a bit. Although the happy hour and elevators were packed, the downtown area was dead, dead, dead. There were no people in sight, anywhere. I don't know if it's just that we were in a business area on a Sunday night, or if it's normally like that, but it kinda creeped me out. We went back to the hotel, which was fine by Mark, since he got to go swimming instead of exploring. (Turns out he's not much of an explorer...)
Cleveland also taught me, yet again, how little geography I know. The Indians were playing when we entered town, which is kinda funny because we keep rolling into towns while the baseball games are in action. We saw an even split of Toronto Blue Jay and Cleveland Indian fans, and I couldn't figure out why there were so many Canadians in town. Until I looked at my map--turns out Canada is just on the other side of Lake Erie.
Anyway, our day was pretty mellow compared to the rest of our packed-to-the-hilt days. But it was nice to have a leisurely, relaxing day. And of course, tomorrow is the real big day, the one I've been waiting for the entire trip--our jaunt to the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame! So I was fine turning in early, while visions of rock stars danced in my head. :-)
Today was very exciting because we had lots of cool plans, but also because we didn’t have to drive anywhere. After six nights in six different hotels in six states, we were a bit road weary.But not too tired to have fun! We’ve learned on this vacation that the best way to see stuff is to get there first thing in the morning. It’s difficult to wake up early and rush to a museum, but you really do beat the crowds, which means you see more.Our first stop this morning was the Louisville Slugger bat factory tour and museum. When we saw the gigantic bat out front, we knew we’d found the place.
A tour was just starting, so we jumped on it. A very funny guide led us through the tiny factory, showing us how baseball bats were created from start to finish. We learned about how the trees were selected, and how the round billets were extracted from the logs. (A billet looks like a smooth, rounded fence post. The bat is then carved from that wooden post.)
We watched them drop the billets into a carving machine, where it was shaped, smoothed and turned into a bat in about 2 minutes. It was so cool!The tour guide described the different kinds and sizes of bats they create, including for your average Little Leaguer on up to the customized bats for the pros. The amateur bats rolled off the line unbelievable quick, but the pro bats had their own computerized machine. The bat makers could create a specific sized and shaped bats for the pros, depending on what they liked as far as weight, feel, grip and barrel size. Once they have a template created for the pro bat, they put the measurements into the computer, which then carves out the same bat every time, down to the exact measurements. It was pretty impressive.Each pro slugger orders about 12-15 bats a year. They didn’t say how much those bats cost, but based on the size and accuracy of the fancy computerized machine, I’m guessing it’s a lot.Even more impressive was getting to hold the bats the pros would use! The guide passed around bats for the various pros, and Mark was stoked to hold Andre Ethier’s bat (he held another Dodger’s bat as well). I was more excited for Derek Jeter’s bat.Next up, we saw how the workers burned in the Louisville Slugger bat. We learned that besides branding the bat, the logo also tells the players how to hold the bat—logo side up. The logo is the weakest part of the bat, and if it points anywhere other than up, there’s a good chance the bat will break on contact. The guide said they spend a lot of time telling this to the pro players, most of whom grew up using aluminum bats. The next step was painting and drying the bats. Each bat—more than two million a year!—is hand-painted. Hand-dipped, really. There are eight different colors to choose, from a basic clear varnish, to cherry red, to black or even double-dipped black to eliminate the wood grain. (That one’s called the Tony Gwynn, since he preferred his bat to look like an aluminum bat—shout out to a hometown hero, go Tony!) 
The tour ended after that, but there was a cool museum to check out afterwards. We saw all sorts of awesome bats used by some big name players—Mark swung bats belonging to Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth and even Mickey Mantle. They had some cool exhibits, including a pitching machine that whizzed the ball passed you at 90 mph. (Turns out that’s pretty darn fast!) 
Mark with Babe Ruth's bat
Mark with Jackie Robinson's bat
One other cool thing they had was a visiting exhibit one of Norman Rockwell art. There were all sorts of original Rockwells depicting sports. We saw a bunch of famous works, like the picture of the umpires with their hands out, feeling for rain, and a scrawny little boy flexing his muscles in front of the mirror. It was so cool.It was lunch time, so we asked a local for a recommendation. He pointed us to a sandwich shop, which turned out to be kinda weird. It was located in an old lawyer’s office. The reception and main conference room had been turned into dining areas. The bathrooms were at the end, and when I strolled back there, I passed more individual offices and another conference room. The kitchen was in one of these offices, which just seemed really odd. But what was even weirder was the general décor of the restaurant. It was kind of a homey, country-kitchen style, but the owner obviously loved beagles, so there were pictures, statues and signs of beagles all over the place. The restaurant had even been named after a beagle! The whole lunch was kind of surreal!After lunch, we walked through downtown, which had all sorts of cool buildings. The buildings that were full all seemed to be occupied by architects. The other half of the buildings were empty, but still beautiful, with decorative trim and dark, rich colors. 
The buildings of downtown Louisville
Gorgeous Louisville house
It started with a movie about Ali’s controversial life, and it really gave you a sense of respect for all that he accomplished. I’m not a boxing fan at all, but I am definitely a Muhammad Ali fan. He worked hard to get to the top, and once he got there, he took on other fights, against racism, ignorance, and spirituality. It was humbling to read how Ali had won an Olympic medal, triumphed in his sport, and then returned home, only to be denied service at a local diner because he was black. And I gained a huge amount of respect for him refusing to join the military because of his religious beliefs—he refused to fight or die for a country that wouldn’t even let him sit in the front of the bus, and denied him the most basic civil rights solely based on his color. He started out a hero because of sports, but I admired him more for his humanity.The museum had five floors, each jam-packed with information. The exhibits were awesome, a blend of multi-media movies, signage and pictures. My only complaint was that there was too much information, and we had too little time to really absorb it all. I wished I’d had time for a couple visits, so all those anecdotes could really sink in. Next up on the agenda was…the Kentucky Derby! It was about a 15-minute drive from downtown, but I couldn’t miss out on a trip to the famous Churchill Downs racetrack. 
I made it!
The famous finish line
The famous spires
Ride 'em, cowboy! Errrr, I mean, jockey!
The Cracker Barrel food was…Southern. There were some healthy options on the menu, but all the people around us were eating fried stuff, so that’s what we ordered. I had the fish with carrots and fries, and they were a similar shade of orange. It wasn’t great, but at least we could say we’d eaten at a Cracker Barrel now. And so we headed back to the hotel, tired but happy. I felt like we’d seen all the highlights of Louisville, from the architecture to the sports museums. It was a really nice town, but, like the Cracker Barrel, I feel like I’ve been there, and barring any unforeseen reasons, probably won’t be back anytime soon. But I sure had a good time while I was there!
We had big plans for this morning—ascending the St. Louis Arch!
It was already scorching hot by the time we got to the arch at 9:15. Luckily, the line wasn’t very long, and we already had tickets, so we didn’t have to wait long in the heat.Edra and I were both a little nervous about going to the top, and she still hadn’t committed to going, even though we were already in line. On the ticket lady’s advice, she checked out a replica of the archway cars to reassure herself, but I refused to look for the same reason. I’d decided to go up no matter what, and I was afraid if the replica was too small or claustrophobic, I’d back out. I steeled my nerves, wiped off my sweaty palms and pushed on. 
Life-size replica of the cars that climb the arch. They put FIVE people in there at a time! 
Inside the "egg"
We made it to the top of the arch! This is inside the observation area.
We moved to the other side, which had a river view. You could see that St. Louis had not been spared the flooding; water rose up over the frontage road, right up to the park. Where there had once been a road, there were now underwater trees. I’m really glad I ignored my fear and went up there. I didn’t even know you could go to the top of the arch until a couple months ago, but I’m so glad that you can. I would totally recommend going up, the view was spectacular.Another happy surprise was the National Park museum below the arch, dedicated to Lewis and Clark, who started their expedition to the Pacific Coast in St. Louis. The museum had great exhibits of what they saw, and letters they wrote describing their trip. We’d covered a lot of the trail on our drive to St. Louis, so it was cool to read about the prairies and land we’d just traveled, and how different it all was when Lewis and Clark blazed the path. 
Our Lewis and Clark impression--"Go West, young man!"
Kentucky also marked the final time change for us, to Eastern time. We lost an hour when rolled into Louisville, but it was okay. We’d be in town for two nights—two long, luxurious nights!—so trading one lost hour for a whole day of not driving was a deal.Our hotel was quite shocking at first. It had two giant towers, each one bigger than any place we’d stayed in the whole trip so far. They were connected by a giant atrium over the street, again probably bigger than our other hotels. And it was filled with teenagers in brightly colored shirts—they were everywhere, attending a Nazarene youth conference. The kids were in big groups all over the hotel—in the lobby, at the elevators, in the hallways, running or texting or jumping on each other. I think we saw more people in the lobby alone than we had seen anywhere else in the country.The girl at the hotel desk gave us a map and dinner recommendations. Although we were smack dab in the middle of downtown Louisville, it was eerily quiet. The architecture was amazing—lots of old brick buildings with elaborate trim. But they were empty, as were the streets, which should have been teeming with people going home from work. We’d seen a lot of cities that were affected by the recession, but Louisville and its deserted streets seemed especially hard-hit.The concierge had recommended a barbecue joint, Doc Crow’s. The menu looked good, so we ambled inside to sample the local cuisine. It was another AMAZING dinner, definitely giving the Kansas City lunch some competition. Edra ordered fried pork rinds as an appetizer, and though Mark was doubtful, he tried and liked them (man, did they gross me out!).
Mark is a little dubious of fried pork rinds...
What the picture didn’t show, however, was the freeway just below the pool! That’s right, between the pool and that view was an 8-lane freeway, with lots of loud, smelly cars honking and rushing past. So much for a peaceful view!But I did get a view of one other thing I wasn’t expecting—a lighthouse! That’s right, I kept seeing a flashing light on top of a nearby office building in downtown, nowhere near the water’s edge. I assumed it was an airplane warning light at first, but when I looked again, I could tell it was actually a lighthouse, complete with stripes and a rotating light.
Which just cracked me up, because not only was the lighthouse in the middle of downtown, it was also about 30 stories high on the building. Seemed a funny place to put a lighthouse, but then, after a trip full of jackalopes, corn palaces and statues carved into mountains, I wasn’t sure what was even unusual or weird anymore.
When we planned the trip, we counted in three long driving days; the first one (8 hours to Grand Canyon) was behind us, and today we readied for the second one (9 hours).
What we didn’t plan on was the Midwest flooding. Or detours. Today, we got both.We were on the road before the sun came up. Mark did great—he went to bed late, and I worried the early morning would make him cranky. But he simply moved from the bed to the car and immediately fell back asleep.Yesterday, all South Dakota had to offer visually was the plains—wide, empty prairies wherever you looked. Today, as we crossed into Iowa, the view changed a bit—now the prairies were filled up with corn, corn as far as you could see in every direction. (Edra changed her “360 degree view of nothing” observation to “360 degree view of..corn!”)
Our constant companion for the next few days...corn!
It was astounding how much corn was out there. Edra and I thought of one local guy who said we should sell our corn to oil-producing countries for the same amount they charged us for oil. It seemed like a reasonable plan to us.We stopped three hours later for gas. Edra filled up the car, and Mark was still sleeping, so I went inside the store. I was searching the aisles when Edra said, “C’mon, let’s go, time to get back on the road.” I turned around to see not just my friend, but also my son sipping on electric blue slushies. It was 9:15 in the morning!
I just cracked up. A few days early, Edra had admitted to a slushie craving, and jokingly said she was gonna get one for breakfast. Mark immediately answered, “And I will go with you!” I reasoned it was just like drinking a Jamba Juice, except, you know, the slushie was loaded with food coloring, had no vitamins, no nutritional value, and twice the sugar as a Jamba Juice. But other than that, they were similar, right? And hey, what’s a vacation without a breakfast slushie??
Pretty soon, the corn gave way to another view—water. It was weird, trees seemed to grow right in the middle of the river, and I wondered how that was possible. They didn’t look like swamp plants. low with sprawling roots; they looked like all the other trees on the side of the road.
But then we passed a small town where not only the trees were underwater, but most of the buildings were as well. Walls of sand bags lined the buildings, unsuccessful fortresses that failed to keep out the rising tide. You could see that the bottom floors were underwater, as were the roads and homes surrounding them. What had simply been a story on the nightly news in California (record flooding in the Midwest!) became horrifically, unbelievably real in Iowa. The devastation was everywhere—we passed more towns underwater, more roads and trees swallowed up by the swollen river. We could see the flooded cornfields—they grew in the middle of huge lakes, the plants yellowed and dying from overwatering. Then, nearby, we’d see a little farmhouse, and our hearts would break, thinking of the loss those poor farmers faced, and how their livelihood and dreams had drowned with their crops. We saw signs along the road asking for support, including one that said, “Pray for the farmers.” Though I’m not normally a religious person, I complied. I hoped the over saturated land would dry out soon, and that those farming families recovered quickly.Even the roads were affected. Some sections reminded me of driving in the Everglades—the water creeped right up to the edge of the road. I realized one small misstep, and the car could easily slide off the road, and into the deep water. That made me concentrate even harder on driving as safely as possible. At a couple parts, the water was actually above the road—a temporary barrier had been built to shield the road from the water, and we drove below “sea” level.Our trusty GPS, Adele, got all the way to Iowa without once getting lost. However, she did not count on the flooding, either. Road closures and detour signs popped up, re-routing us from the flooded highways on to tiny rural roads. Adele protested, recalculating over and over again, insisting we make a legal U-turn when possible. We finally turned down her volume, following the 18-wheelers and the detour signs instead. I tried finding our location on the road atlas, but couldn’t figure out where the heck we were. The roads we drove were so small, so rural, they weren’t even listed on the map!
I couldn’t even figure out what state we were in—I was pretty sure we were in Nebraska, until we hit a tiny town named Clarinda, which proudly proclaimed to be the birthplace of Glen Miller. We drove along Glen Miller Road, until suddenly, out of nowhere, we saw a sign welcoming us to Missouri. I didn’t even know we were anyway near Missouri! I double-checked the atlas, confirmed Clarinda actually was in Iowa, and that we were on the correct route now. Edra, smart girl that she is, began to doubt my navigational skills. She silently turned Adele’s volume back up, and instead of being insulted, I was relieved.The detour took us two hours out of our way. Which would have been a bummer on any other day, but adding two more hours to an already long day made us all a little crazy.After seven hours of driving, we rolled into Kansas City, MO. We were hungry, a bit gritchy, and really needed to get out of the car for awhile. A short consultation with Yelp! helped choose a barbecue place, and drove into the lot, mouths already watering in anticipation.It wasn’t quite what we expected—we’d hoped for a local dive with amazing barbecue for a steal. Instead, the restaurant was a bit fancier, filled with business people and white linen tablecloths. Luckily, it wasn’t as pricey as it looked. Mark and Edra ordered the ribs, and I had barbecued chicken and smoked turkey. It was all amazing! It was seriously the best chicken AND turkey I’ve ever had, all at the same time!
We also ordered beans, which were seriously fantastic, a word I would never have used to describe beans before today. And to top it off, we had some kind of creamed corn smothered in cheese, with bits of ham inside. Again, not much into ham or creamed corn, but I would have licked that bowl clean had it been a less fancy joint.This was the best meal we’d had the whole trip, hands down. We’d been subsisting on free hotel breakfasts, PB&Js and granola bars, and this was a far cry from any of that. I wanted to just lie down at the table afterwards and nap, it was that good.But we had some serious miles to cover before nightfall. So it was back to the car, where we headed East toward St. Louis.All the miles made us loopy. We got a little punch-drunk from driving so long, to the point where even a silly comment or the billboards sent us into hysterics. Here are a couple of our favorites:
I'm sorry, is this supposed to make me hungry???
The doc's parents really liked alliteration.
I was so excited I sent the picture to my sis-in-law, who promptly texted back, “Where’s the other half?” I replied, “Budget cuts,” which cracked her up. All three of us needed to stretch our legs. We walked back to the stadium, where scalpers were selling tickets to the baseball game. Edra asked one how much, and he looked us over, then finally said, “For you, $15 each.” But we couldn’t fathom the thought of sitting down any longer, and we kept on walking. I heard the guy offer the same tickets to another family right afterwards for $10 each. Guess it was pretty obvious we were out-of-towners!It was hot and HUMID in St. Louis. I didn’t notice as we walked, but the minute we stopped, we were drenched. Like, irrationally drenched, as in, “We only walked a block, why are we sweating like pigs???” 
Mark and Edra admiring the arch at sunset
The court house
It’s hard to get a tan when you’re not outside. But on the upside, there are virtually no mosquitoes or humidity in the indoor pools—the chlorine-drenched air is a might bit stifling, but hey, it keeps the bugs away.
Another early morning start today, but not because we had to travel a long distance. Oh no, we were ready to go solely based on a sign we’d seen bearing (hee hee) these simple words: Bear Country U.S.A.Oh yeah, I’m talkin’ bout bears. Lots of them. Up close.Anyone who grew up in SoCal remembers Lion Country Safari, where you drove your own car through free-roaming fields of exotic wild animals. This was the same concept, although instead of lions, tigers and bears (oh my!), the star attractions here were just the bears.There were other animals too, some native to the region (big horn sheep, elk, mountain lions, bison) and some, not so much. (Dahl sheep, reindeer, arctic wolves—did an Alaskan drive-through park go out of business or something?)It was feeding time when we got there. The elk and reindeer were face-down in the feeding troughs, which was fine—I’d seen my share of elk up close at the Grand Canyon, and even pet some reindeer in Alaska. What I hadn’t seen in those places were bears!We scooted through the arctic wolves section, where the wolves were all gnawing on big hunks of meat. They were pretty cool, but just kinda looked like white dogs. Wild dogs eating hunks of raw meat.Next up were the Dahl sheep and big horn sheep. One big guy was standing atop his trough, and looking around at the flat ground all around. I felt kinda bad for him. This was a sheep used to climbing stuff—he needed some kind of vertical structure to conquer, something taller than his feeding trough.Then it was on to the main attraction—the bears! We squealed excitedly at our first sighting, a lazy black bear ambling across the road. Little did we know there were about 35 others just around the corner…
The bears were super cool. Even though, technically, they were all black bears, they came in all different colors—black, brown, tan. The keeper told us it’s like us all being human, but having different colored hair. Some looked a little raggedy and worse for the wear, and I wondered if they were hot in their thick coats and the humid South Dakota weather. I was already sweating, even at 8 a.m., without a big furry coat—I could only imagine how the heat affected them.
The bears were in various states of activity; some were out for a morning stroll, some had claimed a spot and were already napping (or maybe they hadn’t yet started their day). It was awesome to be so close to them—you could really see how big they were, how thick and imposing they looked, even just walking around on all four legs. These were black bears, so they weren’t as scary or imposing as grizzly bears, but I wouldn't want to come across any of these guys while hiking or camping. We stayed in the bear section a long time. The bears were lazy, lolling about, but endlessly fascinating. I don't plan to be that close to a bear again (at least, not outside of a car!), so I made this time count. Behind the bears were cages of mountain lions, also gnawing on hunks of meat. They were so cool, lithe and tawny, pacing back and forth, growling over the meat. A couple lionesses had cubs with them, and we could see them peeking out of the caves.Finally, we rolled on to the next enclosure, with the bison. There was one mom and two small calves, breakfasting on tall prairie grass. The little calves were so cute. One kept running off from its mom, who eyed us warily, and snorted at the little calf to return. Protective Mom made us a little nervous, so we snapped a couple more pics, then moved over to the male bison.He was also eating. We let out a collective gasp at his sheer size—that was one BIG buff! His head alone was humongous, so big I was surprised his body could support it. He must have one strong neck! (You could see his front legs were set further back on his body to help balance him out.) Again, I was amazed to think that an animal who eats only grass could get so large—he must eat a football-sized field of grass a day!
The big bison tolerated our stares and snapping camera for a few minutes before he lifted his head and snorted at us. Suddenly, our car felt very small, and not all that protected—that bison could’ve easily tipped us over and banged us up if he’d wanted to. We heeded his warning, and drove off.The last section of the “zoo” housed two big, golden grizzly bears. They were gorgeous, busily searching for food, and showing off their massive paws and muscles.There were also cages of smaller native animals, such as badgers, foxes and even river otters. We passed by the raccoons and skunks quickly (got those in Cali!), stopping briefly to look at the porcupine. Then we got to our favorite exhibit of all—the baby bears!There must’ve been 20 little critters scampering all around. The baby bears tackled each other, wrestled each other, stealthily attacked each from behind. They were a flurry of activity, never stopping, never slowing down, like a pack of wild kindergartners all hopped up on sugar. They clawed and smacked each other, and were just so cute, I wanted to take one home immediately. Until…the keeper stopped working long enough to tell us we wouldn’t last 30 seconds before bringing those adorable little teddy bears back.
“They’d tear up the interior of your car before you even got out of the parking lot,” she said, and true enough, they were climbing and biting on her the minute she stood still. They attacked her, and the rake she was holding, swatted at the shovel she carried, and tore out huge clumps of grass from the ground. They never stopped moving, or destroying stuff, and I realized they were only cute from afar.
The animals were great, but we had a whole state to drive across, so we skedaddled out of there. It was time to move on to the other side of South Dakota!As we drove out of town, I saw a simple, tiny billboard sign that said, “The sheriff is at Wall Drug.” The sign intrigued me, because I'd seen a similar one in Wyoming. I didn’t know what or where Wall Drug was, and couldn’t figure out why the sheriff would be there.Over the next two hours, we were inundated with Wall Drug signs. They tried luring us in with 5 cent coffee and free ice water. They promised dinosaurs and homemade donuts, pie and ice cream. You could buy Black Hills gold or camping gear. The signs boasted of western wear for all—“We dress everyone in the family, even the horse!” And sometimes, the signs just had a happy little message: Dig it, Wall Drug. Kids love Wall Drug. Something to crow about, Wall Drug. My favorite had a funny little pig wearing sunglasses and said, “Be yourself, Wall Drug.” The signs worked—we couldn’t wait to get there, and see what Wall Drug was really all about.There were two exits for Wall Drug, and we took the first one because we were too excited to drive another mile. We’d finally pulled off the freeway, and were 10 feet from the parking lot, clapping our hands excitedly. We could see the signs pointing where to park, when suddenly the car ahead of us stopped. I heard a clanging bell, then saw the red lights and the red-and-white barrier go down.
A train crossing! Seriously, we’d driven two hours to get here, and at the last moment, we were thwarted by a TRAIN CROSSING?
Wall Drug--so close, and yet so far! (And is that a dog driving the RV??)
Tales of the jackalope (shout out to you, Fera-Schanes'!)
Pioneer Heather, driving the wagon train
Edra, about to be shot in a card game. Cheatin' is not tolerated!
"Look at that," Edra said, moving her head slowly from one side of the car to the other. "Three-hundred and sixty degree view of...nothing!" She was right!
We finally pulled off the highway to eat lunch, stopping at a cute little motel with two picnic tables on the lawn. A gardener was watering the plants and tending to the landscape, and I wondered how he could do all that in jeans and boots—it was blazing hot out there! Well, I had my answer soon enough. I sent Mark to the table with our lunch, and suddenly, he started screaming about mosquitoes. I told him to calm down, they were just little white flies, not mosquitoes. I sat down beside him, and was about to say, “See?” when five giant mosquitoes attacked my foot! They clomped on like starving people at a buffet. I screamed louder than Mark.Mark and I both ran off the lawn, still screaming. I completely doused us in Deet, staining my shoes in the process, but I didn't even care (I also got it on the car--took the paint right off the interior!). Edra calmly applied a much smaller bit of organic repellent.
The gardener, who was watering the plants, just stared, not exactly sure what was wrong with us. He probably couldn’t believe we’d sat down there in the first place. But we learned from that mistake—for the rest of the trip, we sat only at tables on gravel, and stayed far, far away from tables sitting on grass!Our next stop was a couple hours away, in Mitchell, SD. Which happens to be home of the Corn Palace! That’s right, an entire theatre decorated completely in dried corn! I’d been looking forward to this the whole trip… (Yes, I know, I need a life!)
And I was not disappointed! There it was, in all it’s corny glory, giant green spires rising into the sky, and corn-cob murals decorating all the exterior walls. The docent told us that not only is it the only corn palace in the world, it’s also the world’s biggest bird feeder. I totally believed her.The murals outside change annually, but this year’s was late, due to all the flooding in the Midwest. A local farmer plants and donates 100 acres of corn to the palace to decorate with, but because of the floods and late planting, this year’s harvest was still growing.There were more murals inside. There were permanent murals, depicting the animals of and life in South Dakota, all in corn. It was so crazy, I almost couldn’t stand it. There was a souvenir shop in the middle, so I loaded up on goodies, including a genuine corn cob pipe for my snowman-building nieces and nephews. In the midst of my shopping, a giant corn cob (Cornelius!) walked by, and I grabbed him for a quick photo.
Mark tried to chow down on Cornelius.
