After a cold, wet April and May, June was extremely wet and brought pesky bugs like I have never seen here before. With that wet weather the corn and beans are far behind. We finally got some nice weather in July — too hot for some, but I’ll take it. But even with some belated nice weather, I was itching to hit the road.

Former Monroe High School band director, friend, and Swiss traveling companion Randy Schneeberger recently moved to Arizona, near Tucson, and had invited me to come out for a visit. That would have been enough to get me there. But I also wanted to visit friends and former colleagues from my 11-year stint on the faculty of New Mexico State University in Las Cruces. Add to that, the tenants of my adobe in Old Mesilla were having some problems — there are always problems with real estate. With all that, it was time to hit the road.

I finally got enough details squared away that I could throw some gear in my GMC and head out on a late July Saturday morning. It’s an hour jaunt to the Mississippi and across the river to Dubuque, and then southwest on U.S. 151. I usually like to take roads less traveled, for example, U.S. 20 across Iowa instead of the congested I-80. But this time, I decide to take I-80. My concession to roads less traveled is that instead of going through Cedar Rapids to get to I-80, I take Iowa Route 1 through the scenic little college town of Mt. Vernon.

Crops were late all across the upper Midwest. But with these long summer days the corn and beans in Iowa seem to be catching up. The corn is tasseling out, and the beans look good. 

I get to I-80 near Iowa City, home of the U. of Iowa. Then it’s the 100-mile jaunt to Des Moines, and south on I-35 into Missouri. When I reach Bethany in Northwest Missouri, I often leave the highway briefly to tour around its deteriorating Harrison County court house square, lamenting how it is disappointing to see it go downhill — so much in contrast to our own flourishing Green County Courthouse Square.

But this time I forego the detour in Bethany and head for Kansas City. It’s usually easy enough to get through KC, but this time there is some construction and it’s a different route. But the Saturday afternoon traffic is light and I’m soon in Kansas. Once through the KC suburbs, the traffic is light. The temperature is in the high 80s, but the air is dry and very comfortable. I reach Emporia just as it’s getting dark.

Next morning dawns sunny and warm, and it’s through Emporia to route 50, then U.S. 56, across the northern part of the scenic Flint Hills. The grass is a light green in color, with herds of cattle contentedly grazing on the rolling hills.

Once across the Flint Hills, the terrain levels out, interspersed with fields of irrigated corn and sorghum, and golden wheat stubbles. A month earlier, one would have seen combines rolling through fields of gorgeous golden waving wheat. But wheat harvest is now over, leaving only the stubbles.

I reach McPherson, a nice town that often makes “America’s best small towns” list. A favorite coffee shop is located on the town’s major intersection, and I always make it a point to stop there. But not this time — it’s Sunday and the place is closed.

I push on under blue skies to Great Bend. Dillon’s Supermarket has an excellent salad bar. After a leisurely lunch and concession to healthy eating, I head west again. I reach Dodge City, the famous cow town rich in lore and legend, some of which bears at least passing resemblance to truth. I go through town, crossing Wyatt Earp Boulevard, but do not stop to wander the souvenir shops that grace Front Street, the supposed site of gun-based episodes of yore.

Then it’s southwest on U.S. 56 through a serious of wide spots in the road, Ensign, Montezuma, Copeland, Satanta, Sublette, and Moscow, each lined by grain elevators and railroad to the right and small business districts to the left.

After those six towns, I reach Hugoton where there is a Mexican restaurant I usually frequent on my way through. But not this time — it’s still Sunday, and the place is closed.

At Hugoton, U.S. 56 veers straight west. Looks like there is a very dark patch of clouds to the west — I thought I was far enough south to avoid that. As I head farther west, the sky is not just dark, but pitch black at about 4 p.m. Western Kansas storms are something I want to avoid. A few miles later, the sky opens up. As it looks clear to the south, and I like roads less traveled, I make a hard left on lightly traveled Oklahoma Route 25 straight south into the Oklahoma Panhandle. Whaddaya know — I’m soon into bright sunshine. That menacing looking sky in the rearview mirror is darker than ever — something I want no part of. 

That less traveled road takes me to Guymon, center of the Oklahoma Panhandle and U.S. 54 to Stratford and Dalhart, Texas. That part of Texas is very flat with dryland farming mixed with crops irrigated from the Ogallala Aquifer. That aquifer is not naturally replenished at an economically significant rate. What will happen when that aquifer is depleted to the extent that pumping from deep depths is not economically feasible is not pleasant to contemplate.

U.S. 54 treks diagonally across the northwest part of the Texas Panhandle, to New Mexico, and I’m soon to my destination, Tucumcari, a major stop on old historic Route 66.

It’s time to put up for the evening and anticipate next morning’s breakfast of the best huevos rancheros ever at the Pow Wow Inn on Tucumcari’s main drag.

— John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Saturdays in the Monroe Times.