All winter I had wanted to hit the road for New Mexico. So now that we have our nice weather - well, I guess it's nice elsewhere too.
As usual, I cross the Mississippi River at Dubuque and head southwest on U.S. 151. Most travelers would take 308 south through Cedar Rapids, but I prefer State Route 1 through the hamlet of Martelle, then through the picturesque village of Mt. Vernon, down to I-80. It's a gorgeous sunny afternoon. I'm a bit surprised that the corn seems no further along than around Monroe.
From Iowa City, I take I-80 to Des Moines, then I-35 south across the Missouri line. Late afternoon I reach Bethany in northwest Missouri. Bethany is the county seat of Harrison County and, like Monroe, the courthouse centers their town square. But there, all resemblance to Monroe and our picturesque courthouse square ends.
Years ago, I had detoured off the interstate and made the run around Bethany's square. It was depressing. I decided to repeat the process and, as expected, it was even more depressing. Their unimpressive courthouse remains, but the town square is deserted. The few remaining businesses are antique and second-hand stores. There are a few law offices, doubtlessly attracted by proximity of the courthouse.
The one newly constructed building, a new library, is at the expense of the demolition of the south side of their square. I'm all for libraries, and it's great that they have a new library. Too bad the downtown was in such bad shape that they took out an entire side of the square. But life is often a matter of undesirable Hobson's choices. Better to have a library than boarded-up, rodent-infested empty buildings on one side of their square.
Not to say that Bethany isn't thriving. It is, but it's all located around the exits of I-35. While Monroe has its sprawling, unplanned traffic mess on our west side, at least we have been able to save and revitalize our courthouse Square. Anyone who had anything to do with that deserves the undying thanks of our community.
I complete my short journey around the deserted square and head back up the hill, past the usual row of fast food eateries and chain motels to I-35 and resume my route south. Darkness falls as I approach Kansas City. The lights on the superstructure of the new artistic and tastefully designed bridge across the Missouri River are impressive. It's easy enough to get through K.C., and with light weeknight traffic, it's a breeze.
Then it's west across the Kansas state line and through Overland Park and K.C.'s western suburbs. Once past the suburbs, the traffic thins out. It's hard to get away from noise and light in this modern age. But traveling across the flat Kansas countryside on a moonless night, the only light is starlight and the occasional lights of a lonely vehicle. The only noise is the reassuring hum of my GMC and air rushing past the windows.
It's late as I reach Emporia, home of the journalist, William Allen White, who gained fame as editor of the Emporia Gazette. I grab a motel and get a good night's rest.
Next morning I check my e-mail, and reply to a few of them. I take a look at my "Save the Post Office" draft, make a few minor adjustments, and decide it needs some work - but not now. I grab some breakfast at a mom-and-pop eatery and head west. It's a cloudless day but there is a haze in the sky and it's getting very windy. This is Kansas, after all.
I take U.S. 56 across the northern edge of the Flint Hills. Last December, these hills were a combination of gray and rusty brown. But now they are a rich green with scattered herds of beef, mostly Black Angus, contentedly grazing.
As I cross the Flint Hills, the landscape becomes flat once again. Those fields of winter wheat that were just emerging last December, their cast of green blending with slate gray skies, are now various shades of amber and gold - not quite ready for harvest, but real close. With the wind blowing ever stronger, the "amber waves of grain" in the song, "America the Beautiful" are before your very eyes, exactly as depicted in that song. It is rather exhilarating. The combines will soon be rolling across those fields, perhaps even as this piece is in print.
I pause at a historical marker about 100 yards off the highway. It marks the approximate intersection of the Old Santa Fe Trail and the Chisholm Trail. The Chisholm Trail was used for cattle drives from north Texas to a railhead at Abilene, Kansas. As the open range became fenced, the Kansas legislature forced the drives farther west to Newton, and later, farther west to Dodge City, the town that became symbolic of the Wild West.
U.S. 56 follows the approximate route of the Old Santa Fe Trail. The Santa Fe Trail connected Franklin Missouri with present day Santa Fe, New Mexico. It became an international trade route between the U.S. and Mexico when Santa Fe was the northern part of Mexico. It became the 1846 invasion route during the Mexican-American War. It was finally replaced with the Atchison-Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad in 1881.
In southwestern Kansas, the trail splits. The north branch continues to follow the Arkansas River upstream to La Junta, Colo., then down to New Mexico. The south branch, known as the Cimarron Cutoff, goes to Elkhart, Kansas, then to Boise City in the Oklahoma Panhandle, and on to Clayton, N.M. and Santa Fe.
I'll follow the Cimarron Cutoff to Clayton, in far more comfort than the early travelers on the Old Santa Fe Trail.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
As usual, I cross the Mississippi River at Dubuque and head southwest on U.S. 151. Most travelers would take 308 south through Cedar Rapids, but I prefer State Route 1 through the hamlet of Martelle, then through the picturesque village of Mt. Vernon, down to I-80. It's a gorgeous sunny afternoon. I'm a bit surprised that the corn seems no further along than around Monroe.
From Iowa City, I take I-80 to Des Moines, then I-35 south across the Missouri line. Late afternoon I reach Bethany in northwest Missouri. Bethany is the county seat of Harrison County and, like Monroe, the courthouse centers their town square. But there, all resemblance to Monroe and our picturesque courthouse square ends.
Years ago, I had detoured off the interstate and made the run around Bethany's square. It was depressing. I decided to repeat the process and, as expected, it was even more depressing. Their unimpressive courthouse remains, but the town square is deserted. The few remaining businesses are antique and second-hand stores. There are a few law offices, doubtlessly attracted by proximity of the courthouse.
The one newly constructed building, a new library, is at the expense of the demolition of the south side of their square. I'm all for libraries, and it's great that they have a new library. Too bad the downtown was in such bad shape that they took out an entire side of the square. But life is often a matter of undesirable Hobson's choices. Better to have a library than boarded-up, rodent-infested empty buildings on one side of their square.
Not to say that Bethany isn't thriving. It is, but it's all located around the exits of I-35. While Monroe has its sprawling, unplanned traffic mess on our west side, at least we have been able to save and revitalize our courthouse Square. Anyone who had anything to do with that deserves the undying thanks of our community.
I complete my short journey around the deserted square and head back up the hill, past the usual row of fast food eateries and chain motels to I-35 and resume my route south. Darkness falls as I approach Kansas City. The lights on the superstructure of the new artistic and tastefully designed bridge across the Missouri River are impressive. It's easy enough to get through K.C., and with light weeknight traffic, it's a breeze.
Then it's west across the Kansas state line and through Overland Park and K.C.'s western suburbs. Once past the suburbs, the traffic thins out. It's hard to get away from noise and light in this modern age. But traveling across the flat Kansas countryside on a moonless night, the only light is starlight and the occasional lights of a lonely vehicle. The only noise is the reassuring hum of my GMC and air rushing past the windows.
It's late as I reach Emporia, home of the journalist, William Allen White, who gained fame as editor of the Emporia Gazette. I grab a motel and get a good night's rest.
Next morning I check my e-mail, and reply to a few of them. I take a look at my "Save the Post Office" draft, make a few minor adjustments, and decide it needs some work - but not now. I grab some breakfast at a mom-and-pop eatery and head west. It's a cloudless day but there is a haze in the sky and it's getting very windy. This is Kansas, after all.
I take U.S. 56 across the northern edge of the Flint Hills. Last December, these hills were a combination of gray and rusty brown. But now they are a rich green with scattered herds of beef, mostly Black Angus, contentedly grazing.
As I cross the Flint Hills, the landscape becomes flat once again. Those fields of winter wheat that were just emerging last December, their cast of green blending with slate gray skies, are now various shades of amber and gold - not quite ready for harvest, but real close. With the wind blowing ever stronger, the "amber waves of grain" in the song, "America the Beautiful" are before your very eyes, exactly as depicted in that song. It is rather exhilarating. The combines will soon be rolling across those fields, perhaps even as this piece is in print.
I pause at a historical marker about 100 yards off the highway. It marks the approximate intersection of the Old Santa Fe Trail and the Chisholm Trail. The Chisholm Trail was used for cattle drives from north Texas to a railhead at Abilene, Kansas. As the open range became fenced, the Kansas legislature forced the drives farther west to Newton, and later, farther west to Dodge City, the town that became symbolic of the Wild West.
U.S. 56 follows the approximate route of the Old Santa Fe Trail. The Santa Fe Trail connected Franklin Missouri with present day Santa Fe, New Mexico. It became an international trade route between the U.S. and Mexico when Santa Fe was the northern part of Mexico. It became the 1846 invasion route during the Mexican-American War. It was finally replaced with the Atchison-Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad in 1881.
In southwestern Kansas, the trail splits. The north branch continues to follow the Arkansas River upstream to La Junta, Colo., then down to New Mexico. The south branch, known as the Cimarron Cutoff, goes to Elkhart, Kansas, then to Boise City in the Oklahoma Panhandle, and on to Clayton, N.M. and Santa Fe.
I'll follow the Cimarron Cutoff to Clayton, in far more comfort than the early travelers on the Old Santa Fe Trail.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
