A gradual southerly direction through the Chicago ‘burbs on a Sunday is not recommended. However, once out on the road, freedom of movement is like none other.
Eventually escaping the grips of church traffic, rolling fields again quickly unfolded their cache of corn as far as the eye could see. As with the trip out, though headed distinctly west this time, we still managed to land in a decidedly easterly region.
Others found difficulty in landing at all, testified to in this memorial to those that survived the Great Agricultural Crash of the 1980’s. A couple of solid engines and a tail on that craft might have prevented such a disaster, though not likely given the economics of the time.
The planned diversion on the journey stood mostly empty and somewhat beautiful, if one could get past the stench. Matthiessen State Park is clearly suffering the effects of its proximity to the Chicago area. It may host a significant number of waterfalls and stand out as worthy experience but ensure that an external breathing apparatus is available to enjoy any length of time there.
Escaping a stench equitable to that coming from a wastewater treatment plant, few other opportunities for oddities appeared. One man’s junk is forever another man’s treasure, or sculpture.
A pause at Rice Lake found it quiet and peaceful, though near a Miserable and Big Lake. The small space along the highway proved a great place to simply stretch out and observe the decaying remains of an abandoned fishing escape.
A bit further down the road, the Little America Rest Area Bridge, dating from 1875 stood mostly abandoned and knee-deep in the weeds. Uncertain whether this bridge had always held this position, it seems a bit peculiar to bridge an incline in such a fashion as this.
Clouds patrolled the skies with increasing density, pushing the sun further down the horizon, urging a return to higher ground and more expedient crossings near Rushville. The expedition turned north and high-tailed it across IL-101 on advice from navigation systems designed to launch us towards the nearest sustenance.
Upon arrival, most places in Hannibal were already closed for the evening. Taking time to air out grievances along the Mississippi River formulated a plan to capture the sun setting into the surrounding crops at the airport before getting more involved in the search for food. Fiddlestiks Food & Spirits Company welcomed us with a decent meal shortly thereafter.
Launching out across the blackened wasteland of US-36 crossing Missouri left insufficient luminescence to capture anything of significance. Quiet little towns glowed gently along the sides of the road occasionally, and a stream of satellites from the doorstep of Elon Musk sailed across the sky. It all begged a test for the new camera, which produced interesting results that might have been much better atop a tripod. Perhaps, next time.
