Travellog: Illinois to Ohio

bridge. hashtag dirty windshild

On the way back to our hotel after spending a wonderfully simple afternoon in Nauvoo things got a little less simple. We were winding along the banks of the Mississippi when the "Check Engine" light flicked on.

Perfect.

Over 1000 miles from home.

We called the nearest dealership when we got settled back at our hotel and made an appointment to take the car in first thing the next morning. We waited while they did the diagnostic test. I read Architectural Digest with Ada sleeping on my lap until enough clanky doors and sounds of strange shoes clacking past woke her up. Then all of our energy was spent entertaining her at the lego table when all she really wanted to do was steal other patrons' iPads.

The test came back a little over an hour later. It wasn't anything serious and we were on our way shortly after that. As it turns out, 300 miles down the road and a fresh tank of gas later, light turned off.

By the time we hit Illinois things were sailing along. I got to live out a life long dream of listening to  Come On Feel the Illinoise! while driving through the state. As a bonus, Sufjan's soft beat kept Ada sleeping for her longest nap on the trip. We must have listened to half a dozen albums all the way through.

We passed lots of trains and lots and lots of fields. A corn field higher than the fence posts was still a rarity, but the fields were every bit as expansive and vast as I had imagined. Every time I saw a train I thought about talking to Mike's grandma about her experience driving cross country. One of the trips she was pregnant and had a small child so she flew while her husband drove the car. She told him to be safe. He promised he would, though he admitted later that he caught himself several times racing the trains as they sped past.

There were parts on the drive where the countryside truly rolled. It wasn't punctuated with formations or marred with rocks. Just smooth. Just spreading out on either side of us like carpet.

We hurried to Ohio where we spent the evening with friends. We ate sushi and udon at a nearby Japanese place. Ada was a huge fan of soy sauce and it made me realize she had never tasted it before. Oh to be 1 again and be constantly thrilled by new tastes and sounds and sights.

After putting the babes to bed, we sat upstairs while Mike and his buddy relived hilarious annecdotes from high school and college and the four of us downed a few pints of Jeni's ice cream before heading to bed. Our last night on felt at once sad and exciting. I loved road-tripping. It was such a unique experience. Plus, I got to hold Mike's hand for hours on end.

Travellog: Nebraska to Illinois

 8/24/12
We both love looking out over the corn fields. Neither of us are tired of them yet. Though it is strange: just where are the mountains?

Windmills towered over dry crops; corn fields so stunted not even my Ada could get lost in them. But even with so many in yellow and green ombres I feel a sense of American pride at our resilience and faith; there's a sense in the air here that we're going to keep on keeping on. 

Middle-America is surprising in how unsurprising it is. It is exactly as I've always pictured it—red barns and shiny silos, green and yellow fields and tractors, long rows of sprinklers attached to those giant wheels, trucks, blue skies, hay. It seems wholesome. It seems like exactly what it is: the core of my country.

I had never traveled through the middle section of America. I didn't know how beautiful Iowa was. Or how water towers stand over every town. I told Mike that coming up on a city in the Midwest is so different from coming up on a city out West. Where I'm from, you know you're nearing a city when you start to climb a hill. Once you summit you usually see a town or two nestled in the valley between the mountain you just came over and the one in the distance that you have to drive up next.

Out there they just seemed to appear out of now where. The only indicator was the water tower, bearing the town's name.

Main Street. Keokuk, IO, USA

Keokuk Water Plant on the Mississippi River

We stayed the night in Keokuk, Iowa. Before calling it a night, we drove down Main Street, across the Mississippi and up the banks a few miles and visited Nauvoo. It was off season. The pageants had all ended just over a week before.

We had the whole place to ourselves.

Missionaries and tour guides still stood eager to lead tours through the various historic buildings, but the streets were empty. We decided to pull the bikes off the back of the car and ride through the streets. It was the best decision we made. Ada sat up front, proudly patting her shiny helmet and feeling the wind race past her. It felt so good to be moving and actually feeling the elements brush past, dust and all. I thought numerous times that day just how strange travel is. You don't feel any of the places you rush past. And yet, for those living there, they feel it so much sometimes it's painful.

Two days in the car must have made her feel like she had some serious reconnecting to do with nature because I'm fairly certain that her favorite part of the day came when she was sifting through wood-chips at the abandoned "Pioneer Past Times" post and rubbing her dusty hands on her sweaty face. Mike and I sat there and watched her, cementing the outing in our brains so when things are wild we can remember that breeze, that simplicity, that little baby who just needs a pile of dirt and two loving parents.

Naming colors on the rug.

"The sun went down beyond the river. . ." though the sky wasn't wild, nor red. But the river was brimming with lily pads and water birds and I wished we had more time (and a less worn-out little one) so we could get up to the water's edge for a few minutes.

Travellog: Utah to Nebraska

** We made it safely, gratefully and happily. We're cheery and getting settled in. Mikey starts his program next week and until then, we're filling our days buying, assembling, acquiring, doing a bit of exploring and making friends.**

Snippets from the road:

8/23/12
We started our trip headed north through Provo Canyon, wedged between semis and construction cones. The sunrise came just after 6:00 am.  The first bluish light turned warm. It wasn't particularly noteworthy or beautiful except for the way it reflected in the puddles in the median.

We drove through fog in the Wyoming mountains before in burned away, leaving just the dry, rocky Mars-like landscape of the eastern part of the state. The one striking feature: the big sky.

Ada didn't sleep much and has proved to be much more of a reader than a movie-watcher. As we entered Nebraska we saw dry streams, rocky fields, miles of fences.  We neighed at the horses and mooed at the cows and sang songs about spiders and lambs and wheels.

We'll slept in Nebraska  tonight after filling up at a local Mexican joint in Kearney.

We made arrangements to eat breakfast early, just after 5, so we can get a few hours of driving before Ada wakes up for the day.