Coal, Corn and Cows

"From the beginning of my journey, I had avoided the great high-speed slashes of concrete and tar called 'thruways,' or 'super-highways.' ---Steinbeck

I also have mostly avoided the big roads, only sampling I-70 from Lawrence to Manhattan, I-80 from Lincoln to Grand Island and I-90 from Rapid City to Buffalo. It was enough to regain bad habits (my apologies to the Nebraska farmers I sent scattering when I went for an Interstate style pass on a country road), and to cover some land quickly, but until Idaho I was glad with my decision to avoid them. More on that later.

So I headed out of Lincoln on a Sunday morning, aware of my earlier commitment to try church. I did get invited to a Mega-Church in Omaha, which is exactly what I hoped to see, but the service was late and 40 miles out of the way. The 3-4 hours it would have added to my day was more than I was willing to commit. I looked for another option, but my jones for the road took over, and we headed west. The good news is, while I missed the opportunities to meet folks through the church experience, my soul would not suffer as Nebraska radio offered plenty of what Merle Haggard called "sunday learning." There are a lot of Christian talk, Christian Rock, Christian country, and Country radio stations. I would scan channels and play "Name that Genre." Christian talk, often sprinkled among the NPR stations low on the dial, was amazingly easy to spot. I could usually name that genre in three words or less. Christian Rock also exposes itself pretty quickly. Christian Country and regular Country are tougher, as they seem to be on track for a merger. I know Country has always had a gospel strain, but these syrupy family songs are just sickening.

I went through Grand Island, NE as we used to live on Grand Island, NY, and I have always been curious. It made Ford Road in Canton, MI appear to be a quaint old fashioned village. 7 miles of big box. I think it is shopping central for central Nebraska, but I was really glad I didn't plan a stop there. If I missed a nice business district, I apologize.

Then I took off on Route 2 to Alliance. Here I saw a lot of Nebraska, and it exceeded expectations. It follows the rail tracks, so I think this must be a straight flat route, and yet it was varied and interesting, if at times deserted. Here I watched what we consume being prepared for market. Corn and hay are grown in huge lots. Coal pushed on in a steady stream. Both of these commodities seemed bountiful even though I know they are increasingly scarce. The model I don't get is cows. On the horizon I would spot an old west style windmill, and when I got closer I would always find 10-20 cows milling around and taking a drink. One of these pods of cows may not provide the beef I have eaten on this trip. I have driven a 1000 miles of cow country; these must hide them somewhere because I just can't tie what I see in the meat counter with what I see on the plains. Through Broken Bow and Mullen ("the biggest little town in Hooker County") and past the Nebraska National Forest (a really nice tree) I passed livestock trucks just to get out of the invisible sandstorm they put out, and turned right at Alliance and headed to South Dakota.

My last stop in Nebraska was the Favorite Bar in Chadron (SHAD-run). I was lucky to find it as it was the only bar open in the county. No liquor on Sundays, and beer from noon to eight. Sign on the door informed, "Smoking is allowed on the entire premises." Lincoln is non-smoking, the rest of the state goes that way next year. This is they type of bar where that is just plain big government. Everyone in the place, employee and patrons, save this interloper, puffed away. They allowed me to charge my camera battery, which I thought was generous, and they thought odd.

As I crossed the state line into South Dakota, over increasingly nice countryside there was a barn-now-casino on the roadside, 30 miles from anywhere. My guess is gambling is legal in SD, and not in NE.

I spent that Sunday night in Hot Springs, SD at the southern edge of the Black Hills. A nice town, feeling the hurt of a slow summer, although with the Sturgis motorcycle uber-fest firing up next week, hopes are still high. It was a quiet town with dollar pints and big tough women tending bars. Big, tough ex-military women to be more precise. Not sure this is a response to the biker presence, but I bet it helped keep the peace after too many bored locals had too many cheap drinks. Lanelle, working at The Bar, was colorful. She is taking next week off to go to Sturgis, and work "the Chip" (the Buffalo Chip, a bar and concert venue). She offered some colorful and descriptive nicknames for the local lesbian softball team (her toughest customers), and every Saturday her neighbor, the town's only cab driver, makes her his last fare.

Here I saw the clamato-beer combo known as chelada. This is the second new mainstream product based on Latin brew tastes, the other being lime-beer, like Miller Chill. I had a chelada, and it was spicy and refreshing; a low octane bloody mary sort of thing. Here is my only question: we need to make one with Bud and Clamato, and another with Bud Light and Clamato? Give me a break! The flavor is all clams, spice and tomato, just freshened and carbonated by the beer. I didn't do a side-by-side, but doubt there is a discernible difference.

We got back to the hotel and headed in quick as the bug population was exploding. 30 minutes later we stepped out for Luci's evening routine. She gave up first, in about 3 seconds. It was biblical: grasshoppers (locusts?) large beetles, moths, and mosquitoes pelting us like warm hail. The next morning the side of the hotel looked like the front of my car. More area covered by dead bugs than not.

Next we bit off a lot of road work; through the Black Hills and off to the Grand Tetons.