Two days and 688 miles later, with Louisiana, Arkansas and Missouri in the rear view mirror, we’re smack dab in the middle of the country in Hamburg, Iowa. It is small town America all the time. The only large population center we passed in 700 miles was Kansas City, Missouri or Kansas – not sure which side we were on.
688 miles is 11 apple-maps hours or 16 hours for Boss and Roxie as Eric likes to stay in their 60 mph comfort zone. The experience is mostly scenery, whizzing by in a mile a minute blur with notable sites that you might have been interested in seeing had you known they were there. In a 50 foot truck/RV set-up, getting off to explore and not knowing if you can turn around usually negates the jaunt and ends with the phrase, “darn, we missed that – didn’t even get a picture.”
The highways that run through the middle crease of America’s map have no Verizon internet, just billboards about Jesus, personal injury lawyers and discount boots, all of which are there to save you from foot pain, legal troubles and eternal damnation. Pastures are filled with cows, horses, goats and sheep grazing in harmony, flooded fields, vultures picking road kill and falling down barns that were likely put up in good times but didn’t make it through the bad; where a storm-damaged hole turns into a loose shingle, turns into rotten boards and the whole thing steamrolls into dilapidation beyond repair. There are also paper mills, chicken plants and grand farm estates that keep the Heartland going.
What’s remarkable are the colors with a natural Instagram filter on every passing scene. The iPhone 11 Pro is taking great pictures, even through the windows at high speed. Two days into Sirius XM and we’re already starting to prefer the silent drive. Satellite radio closely reminds us of cable TV. It’s that same song by Journey over and over or the same pundit tv garble where they talk a lot but say nothing at all. It is easier to have it playing in the background at home surrounded by the too familiar decor of a shelter-in-place existence. The new rolling scenery begs for new voices and new songs.
We made 6 stops on the journey, 4 for gas plus 2 rest stops. The only people wearing masks are employees, and then some of them aren’t either. Sapp Brothers has the nicest travel stops we’ve ever patronized, including immaculate bathrooms with sinks and bidets, which you’ll likely need if you eat anything out of the fried food case. It’s Ritz Carlton bathrooms and roadside kitch intriguingly mixed as one.
You can also buy a puppet or this fashionable outfit, or fireworks at its Pyro City next door.
The first night of passage was spent at the Tontitown Winery in Springdale, Arkansas. These fourth generation grape growers have created a thriving music and community gathering venue centered around wine and good times. The porch was fully social distanced, with maskless neighbors venturing out after a week of rain to catch up with friends.
As a $69 a year Harvest Host member, we have access to 1000+ vineyards, breweries, farms and cultural attractions that will let us camp on their land in exchange for a purchase at their business. Why should Walmart parking lots be the only option? When you are rolling with your condo, all you need for an overnight is 50 feet of blacktop and the permission of the business owner. Add in a little patronage to the Harvest Host and you have a brilliant match. Tontitown Winery came with 50 amp electric and free wifi, so not only did we get a bottle of house blend with fruit/cheese plate, we got two episodes of Vikings on Prime for less than the price of no amenity site in a National Park. There are good folks in Springdale, Arkansas.
This morning we are listening to whistling birds and the rolling bicycle tires of a 8 year old circling our loop as campers are just waking up in Waubonsie State Park. Hamburg, Iowa is home to a Conagra plant and trying to revive from a major flooding last year where this higher elevation park was used for housing homeless residents. This year it’s mostly tent campers from nearby Omaha trying to shake off their cooped up feelings. But this is no Ozark party scene. It’s middle America family time. Even the four cars of 20-somethings with hidden beers platooning in the large site next to us retired to their Target tents when 10:30 p.m. quiet-time arrived.
The downtown appears depressed with mostly empty storefronts. Only Casey’s General Store and this aptly named pharmacy was open.
Even the park was closed.
Covid or not, the fields need to be plowed; the food grown. Our neighbors in the heartland are hard at work and in serious battles with Mother Nature, much like the neighbors we’ve met all over the country. Even today as we pull out of the park they can’t catch a break. Everyone is huddled inside their tents getting pummeled by rain.
