A Comedy of Errors

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We got going early again today. We started out at 7:30 and 72 degrees and set out to find the Great River Byway and drive north on the west side to cover areas we did not see yesterday. The map that we obtained for the byway, showed that the road we needed to follow was Hwy 79, and it showed that this highway intersected I-70 just north of St. Louis, and so we headed off to find this intersection. Our hotel was about 15 miles west of the city, so we drove east. We drove east three times and back again. We never found this intersection. We even asked a policeman who was sitting in his cruiser by the side of a road. He could not find it either. Together we decided that the old Maine saying was appropriate…”You can’t there from here”. He asked us if we were really from Florida. Yep, we are. We get that a lot.

So, after 2.5 hours of riding in circles, we pinpointed a town on the east side of the river and drove to it. That took another half hour. Bottom line, we lost a lot of time this morning and I will admit that, with each unsuccessful attempt that we made, the temperature in the car climbed a little. We got rather frustrated. But after 47 years of marriage, we have learned to deal with these moments and we moved past it to enjoy the rest of the day. Now, that is not to say that the rest of the day went perfectly. Because we had a few speed bumps along the way. We had a detour with no signs or directions which cost us the better part of an hour, and we ran into several areas of road construction that held us up as much as 20 minutes at one stop. Summer time is a good time to resurface roads and mend bridges I guess.

Moving on, we began driving north on the east side of the river, in Illinois. And the first 10 miles were perfect. The road was right on the banks of the river, with no trees to obstruct the view…not even the railroad tracks separated us from the river. The views were wonderful. The river is wide and it looks calm, from a distance, but when you walk up to it and study it, you can see that, from about 20 yards out, there is a definite current moving the water south. We saw barges moving freight and we saw boats tooling around freely in an uncluttered waterway.

Our first stop was in Grafton, population of about 640. We stopped at the town’s prime piece of real estate, a park by the waterside that had a beautiful lighthouse, decorated in white and red stripes. (See photos.) Grafton is a very small town. And it was here that we hit the road block. After exiting the park, we ran into a sign that directed us to turn right. We later learned that they were replacing culverts and the road was closed. And the detour had no signs to direct us, other than the one that had us turn right, away from the river. Thanks to a utilities worker and a flagger at another construction site, we were able to make our way around the closing and to the other side where we continued our trek north. From this point, much of the roadway was inland. We didn’t see any more riverbank roads today, but we did find a boat launch about 1.5 miles from the main road where we parked the car and had a relaxing lunch sitting peacefully by the side of the water.

At this point we reassessed our route for the rest of the day and decided that we needed to cross the river at the next bridge and head west to Columbia where we had made a hotel reservation for the night. However, there was still much to see.

At this point we had covered 100 miles on the Great River Byway and felt we had been successful, in spite of our rocky start. We crossed the river into Louisiana. Yes, there is a Louisiana, Missouri. And to add to a postman’s confusion, they have streets named after states, too. There was South Carolina St in Louisiana, Missouri and Alabama St in Louisiana, MO and several others. This must be a postman’s nightmare.

This little town of 3300 people was a menagerie of buildings and homes with no rhyme or reason. Many downtown buildings were in very poor disrepair and in need of, at the very least, a good coat of paint. And one was even condemned, with caution tape surrounding it to keep people away. And yet, just a block away, we say a middle-American neighborhood of neat little houses on tree-lines streets with well-manicured lawns, and sprinkled throughout the neighborhoods were beautiful churches. I think I counted about 7 of them, adding to the assumption that religion is alive and well in America and served an honorable purpose throughout our history.

Further down the road, we passed through Vandalia and I had to stop and take photos of a large, expansive grouping of orange buildings with a parking lot full of cars (lots and lots of cars) and surrounded by tall chain link fencing curving inward to prevent anyone inside from climbing over the top. It was a women’s prison and, judging it by the number of cars in the parking lot, it has to be one of the biggest employers this area has. The only other one of note is the ethanol plant down the road. I guess we now know what is happening to all of the miles and miles of cornfields.

We drove on, through a heavy rainstorm, and landed in Columbia, MO at 4 PM. Tomorrow we head to Oklahoma City. I am hoping to make my second visit to the memorial.

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