High Pains Drifting

Home again, home again jiggity jig.....

We enjoyed a longer than usual trip - a drift around the US's High Plains, travelling through, or in, three panhandles: Oklahoma panhandle, the Texas panhandle, and the Nebraska panhandle. The latter was a new one for us, and very nice too - possibly one of those "hidden gems" travel writers sometimes mention. We also hit the plains of Colorado in Fort Morgan, and the eastern edge of Wyoming at Torrington; home again via Kansas and northern Oklahoma.

We'd have ventured further into Colorado or Wyoming but for the weather forecast. Snow arrived in the Rockies. We experienced just an icing sugar scattering in Scottsbluff, Nebraska where we were staying at the time.

(Clicking on them should bring up clearer versions of husband's photos below.)

Fall has definitely fallen in parts of Colorado and Nebraska. The area around Scottsbluff was especially bright with golden Maples plentiful and practically fluorescent. I like Nebraska! Don't know exactly why, I just do - it feels like "me". I wondered if, perhaps, the feeling connected to the state's latitude. It is nearer to England's Yorkshire latitude than is south-western Oklahoma, for sure, but I'd have to be well into Canada to find similar latitude to my birthplace in the north of England.

Points of special interest were: Carhenge in Nebraska - someone had the peculiar idea of building a kind of stonehenge (as in England) from old cars. The morning of our visit was very windy and plenty cold, though not quite bad enough to keep us inside our car.

Later in the trip, in Kansas, we stumbled upon what was once known as the Cathedral of the Plains, now slightly downgraded from Cathedral to The Basilica of St Fidelis because it's not the seat of a Bishop. In any city the huge church would seem quite unremarkable, but rising from those barely populated plains, it stands out some...well...actually it stands out a lot.

We also stumbled upon Greensburg, Kansas without, at first, remembering its recent history. The cinema caught our attention, named after me too!

"Looks brand new, but who would build a new cinema in a tiny town these days?"

Hey, look - they spelled theatre the British way - just noticed!

The whole of Greensburg looked new too - strange indeed, in these parts, where dilapidation and abandonment are common. We found the small town's antique store where the answer awaited, in newspaper cuttings and photographs in the store's entrance. "Of course! I remember now - a tornado devastated this town some years ago!" Ten years ago, in fact. The antique store owner told us that the town had been in the middle of painting and tidying itself up, when the tornado hit and undid the handiwork. Still, Greensburg looks great now, and, we were told, it has been rebuilt to be, appropriately enough - "green". Locals have no argument at all when they see the drop in their energy bills each month, we were told.

We arrived home Sunday afternoon after our High Plains drifting. We forgot to take our whip along but, happily, didn't meet this legendary fellow-drifter! We did have a little "excitement" one evening though. Husband accidentally pressed the emergency button on the phone in our room, while shifting the telephone. Next thing : cops at the door wanting to know....Oops! Indeed!

A little contemplation of where the next trip might take us needed a hat (TSK!) and a drink:

Back home...

We arrived home yesterday afternoon after a strange but very enjoyable trip which entailed retracing our steps/wheels after the first 5 days, then setting out again, due to unforeseen circumstance - long story - "another fine mess I got us into" kind of circumstance. Anyway, we spent several days in central Nebraska, where the wind really was sweeping down the plain - and much more so than in Oklahoma where it has long been reputed, in song, to do just that. It was a flippin' cold wind too!

On the way back south we stopped off at what is said to be the central point of the 48 contiguous states, in Lebanon, Kansas. However, I think there are claims elsewhere to this central position.

Nearer to home, in a little town called Watonga, Oklahoma yesterday morning we spotted this, which made me chuckle:

Hmm - I wondered if the "Ye Olde" part meant that on entering, the customer is handed a washboard and scrubbing brush, then directed to a row of wash tubs. Or maybe, taken through to a back door leading to a river, where other customers on the river's bank are busy bashing their dirty undies against rocks.

Netflixing ~ The Homesman

We Netflixed into the movie The Homesman one night this week. Tommy Lee Jones is always good value, and in this case he not only took a leading part in the film, he directed it, and co-wrote the screenplay. The film is an adaptation of Glendon Swarthout's novel of the same name, a novel that has, I understand, been waiting for years for its transition to film. Originally the rights were owned by Paul Newman, then Sam Shepard, but neither was able to gave it the push it needed. If Newman or Shepard had intended taking the leading male role, much as I admire(d) both actors, in my opinion they'd not have made as good a "George Briggs" as did Tommy Lee Jones.

The film is one of those "warts an' all" stories of how the west - or west-ish - territories of the US were trying to be "won" by intrepid 19th century pioneers. The Homesman tale begins in the wild empty expanse of Nebraska territory in the 1850s. A small community of settlers has sprung up in Loup, near the Loup River. A few families are trying to survive amid devastating conditions, high winds, snow, ice, dust, poverty, on small farms, a long distance from the next small town.

In Loup we meet Mary Bee Cuddy, a farmer, she's living alone, unmarried, a former teacher from New York. She is relatively successfully farming her own small spread. Not all the females of Loup are coping as successfully as Cuddy though. Three (four in the novel, I think) have completely lost their sanity from trying to cope with the harsh conditions, loss of multiple children from disease (diphtheria), loss of love for their husbands many of whom have grown coarse and unfeeling, and ultimately loss of all hope. The townspeople, under advice from their church minister, have decided that the three women must be escorted back eastward to Iowa, where another minister's wife has established a help centre for the mentally unstable.

The men refuse the task of homesman (escorting immigrants back to their previous homes, or to another location). Mary Bee Cuddy (played by Hilary Swank) volunteers for the job. Cuddy has, not so secretly, wanted to marry, has even proposed marriage to single male neighbours, but has been turned down more than once due to her perceived bossy nature and plain appearance. She's not pretty-pretty, but she certainly ain't exactly plain to my eye. Ironically, the guy we see turning her proposal down is plug-ugly (as they used to say) himself, but that didn't matter, did it? Maybe they didn't have mirrors!

Cuddy realises almost immediately after setting out on her homesman duties that she'll need help. Fate or fortune brings her onto a path where a claim jumper, seated on a mule, has been left to hang. Cuddy persuades him that if she rescues him he must accompany and help her. "George Briggs" as the claim jumper calls himself is played by Tommy Lee Jones, of course, and is at his surly best.

I'll not give away the continuing storyline. There are lots of good reviews, of varied opinions, on line for anyone interested and unlikely to read the book or see the film.

The film reminded me of several others. First off I thought of Lonesome Dove, due mainly to the fact that both stories involve a long journey across wild territory, both with Tommy Lee Jones involved. Then, the unlikely mix of personalities portrayed in The Homesman: educated, bordering on sophisticated Mary Bee Cuddy and unruly, unprincipled, wild-eyed George Briggs simply had to bring to mind the pair of characters in that classic movie African Queen. Another "warts an' all" western, of more recent years, Unforgiven - a Clint Eastwood film - came to mind also.

The harshness of life for women pioneers was never properly addressed in all those sentimental, comfortable early western movies with which we grew familiar in the 1950/60s, and even later than that. There's a lovely statue/sculpture up in Ponca City, Oklahoma titled "Pioneer Woman", erected in honour of such women, but even the woman in the statue looks well-fed and prosperous compared to the women of The Homesman.

As we watched the movie I recalled a tiny group of marked graves we came across several years ago beside Talimena Drive, on the border of Oklahoma and Arkansas. Someone had left a plastic covered note on one of the small graves telling how it marked the resting place of a child of 6 years who had been killed by wolves, after her parents, pioneer settlers, had died. I've never forgotten that telling marker.

In The Homesman a nice point is made about civilisation in general. Harsh and crude as conditions were for early settlers, who themselves often descended into hardness and crudeness, there was still a kind of unspoken code of ethics and morality going on. People would help each other, come to aid of anyone when in difficulty, for instance. But, in an oddly out-of-place segment of The Homesman story, Tommy Lee Jones' character, transporting the three deranged women, comes upon a rather fancy hotel in the middle of nowhere (quite literally middle of nowhere).

A snazzily dressed would-be nobleman, in charge of the hotel (Irish accent clunkily affected by the otherwise wonderful James Spader) refuses food and rest to the starving travellers who haven't eaten for three days. The reason, he offers: he awaits a group of investors who will fill the hotel, speculators aiming to build a new "civilisation" in this wilderness. A huge spread of good food is awaiting the expected guests. After gentle, and not so gentle, begging by George Briggs, for at least some food for the women, Spader's character remains unmoved and refuses. So this is going to be the flavour of new "civilisation": cold, unfeeling, grasping. (This thought must have crossed Tommy Lee Jones' mind as director, and that of his fictional character, George Briggs).

It's not a great movie, but it's a good one for anyone interested in US history - the quiet, unsung history, not the well-known razzmatazz variety. Even if not historically-minded though, there are interesting relationship issues, civilisation issues, personality issues, redemption (or not) issues, women's issues to be discovered and pondered upon, all barely under the story's surface.

Trip to The Bridges of Madison County, Iowa.

Got back from our trip on Thursday evening, feeling somewhat "knackered" as they say in Yorkshire. A few nights in an assortment of strange beds can do that to a body - but we don't mind, our trip made a little fatigue worthwhile.

This trip was part planned part left to chance. Eventual destination would be, we hoped, Madison County, Iowa, to see those covered bridges made famous by Robert J. Waller's novel and the subsequent movie based on it. I've been itching to see the bridges for years. I, along with many people, found the film and the novel emotionally moving.

Each time we began planning a trip to Madison County in the past, something got in the way. This time we made it! Good thing we didn't plan too rigidly because I'd overlooked the matter of late summer State Fairs and suchlike. For instance, the unexpected Husker Harvest Days festival in Grand Island, Nebraska, and Kansas State Fair in Hutchinson, Kansas had motels filled to overflowing putting some receptionists in a spin. The motels and hotels were charging well-hiked rates for remaining vacant rooms. We had to bite the bullet and pay up the outlandish rate. However, we did give the the heaving Fairs themselves a wide berth. I enjoy local colour but not en masse!



Our route: northern Oklahoma, eastern Kansas, eastern Nebraska and western Iowa.....then back along a reversed and slightly different trail. We set off in hot hot temperatures, high 90s until we reached Nebraska, and eventually Iowa when we enjoyed a couple of delightfully cool but sunny days, just right for exploring the bridges. Rain and a cold front followed us home.

Some photographs from both my camera and the husband's, and a few notes:

By the time we reached Auburn, Nebraska around noon, Friday 7 September the temperature had cooled from high 90s in Kansas to just 65 degrees! Wonderful! We crossed the wide Missouri River. There are museums and memorial sculptures to Lewis & Clark , scattered around here. Their famous expedition took the pair through this area.

On into Iowa and a teeny tiny town, Walnut, known as "Iowa's Antique City" due to it's single street comprising of a dozen or so antique stores. We were not unduly impressed by the stores there - when several dealers gather together like this prices tend to rise to ridiculous levels. Husband's search for vintage photographs turned up few worthy of collection, prices way above those we see frequently elsewhere.

The name of Walnut's local newspaper (possibly now defunct)tickled me more than anything else in the town.



Scant choice of eating places in Walnut didn't appeal one little bit, then Husband discovered he'd somehow lost the cellphone (a Tracfone with a ton of unused units on it!) He'd either left it at our last stop in Emporia, Kansas, or it had dropped from his shirt pocket somewhere along the way. Our phone remains lost. We moved on from Walnut after one night's stay.

Rather than going on to West Des Moines as originally intended, we decided to drop anchor in a smallish town, Stuart, for a couple of nights. It appeared to be a handy base from which to explore The Bridges, avoiding the bustle of a big city. Iowa, outside of its few urban areas, is a very "farmy" state, even more so than Oklahoma -and that's hard to do!

First thing we saw in Stuart:



Then... (in case not readable "Site of Bonnie Parker & Clyde Barrow Bank Robbery April 16 1934")



Saturday evening in Stuart. We intended to take in a movie at the town's tiny cinema, but on the way there realised something was afoot. A Classic Car rally was in session. Beautifully restored American classics some parked, some cruising a circular route around town. We forgot the movie and concentrated on the cars. Locals were out enjoying the evening, children catered for with 1960s music, hula-hoop competitions and popcorn etc. A really nice atmosphere and small-town scenario unfolded. Husband commented that it does one a power of good to see that such pleasantly old-style atmospheres can still remain within these pockets of peaceful existence.













Below is what's probably the grand-daddy of our own Chevy Monte Carlo





On Sunday we "did" 4 of the 6 bridges. First visit was to Roseman Bridge (the famous one featured in Bridges of Madison County). The bridges are mostly found via unmade dusty roads. Clouds of white dust follow vistors' cars which, seen from a distance look like earth-bound comets with tails.







(Taken from an information plaque):

Roseman Bridge was completed in 1883 and was built by a local bridge builder, Benton Jones. Although only 6 covered bridges remain, there were many covered bridges once dotting Madison County in the early 19th century, all built by local craftsmen, with each bridge builder utilizing his own engineering design that uniquely separated the various construction styles.

Why did they cover the bridges? They were covered to protect them from the weather and extend their longevity. In 1870 a Board of Surveyors stated that "the expense of the roof is more than made up by the permanency of the bridge". The bridges ranged in cost from $900 to $1900. One historian quipped, "Bridges were covered for the same reasons women wore hoop skirts and crinolines, to protect the beauty seldom seen, but nonetheless appreciated."

The remaining bridges paint a story of pioneer people who took what they had and did the most with it. The structures which are attactive, durable and useful are a trubute to a generation of pioneers who left a land better than they found it and leaves us a link with a romantic past.

We also visited Holliwell Bridge (the longest), Cutler-Donohoe Bridge, and Hogsback Bridge. We gave Cedar Bridge a miss as it's not the original - a restoration after arsonists burned the old bridge in 2002 (how could they??) We didn't make the trek to Imes Bridge, 15 miles away. To be honest, all the bridges look much the same, apart from slight variation in size, inner construction style and the immediate surrounding areas.












As fascinating as the bridges themselves were, the many inscriptions on their inner walls intrigued me almost as much. Local authorities paint an area in the bridges' entrance-ways white, especially for visitors to inscribe messages. The white paint is obviously renewed every few years; older messages sprawl well beyond painted areas though. Some inscriptions are very, very touching: some to loved ones who've passed on, some to lovers wronged and regretted, or many just simple loving messages. There are, of course, many of the "so-and-so loves so-and-so", or "Kilroy Was Here" variety, but all in all these sites could be said to house Bridges of Love. Being a bit of a romantic myself, I choked up more than once while reading inscriptions.

Robert Kincaid in The Bridges of Madison County: "This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime". A quote remembered by one inscriber:










We looked around Winterset, small town featured in The Bridges of Madison County book and film, saw a few locations mentioned in the novel. I tried to decide which traffic lights were the ones where Robert Kincaid's truck stopped in front of Francesca, sitting in her husband's truck, in one of the most heart-rending scenes of the movie.





Also in Winterset is a house, birthplace and young childhood home of John Wayne whose family (and he) moved to California when he was 4 years old.

A couple more curiosities, this also in Winterset:

Clark's Tower, accessed via a long winding unmade tree-lined roadway up a steep hillside. Built in memory of Madison County's first pioneers, Caleb and Ruth Clark.






And.... one of those weird all-American "Roadside Attractions" in tiny Cawker City, Kansas:








An old 2-room jail in another tiny town, Buhler, Kansas, not far from Hutchinson, next to site of the old court-house now long gone, and the Town Hall now an antique store.



Hutchinson, Kansas where we stayed for two nights is a biggish city, but manages to retain its friendly atmosphere. Parts of the 1955 film Picnic were filmed there - among the city's humungous grain elevators (scene from movie below).



It was too awkward to get a photograph, so here's an old postcard of one of 'em



This post is already longer than intended, so just as postscript: we noted novelist Willa Cather's birthplace and a tribute museum in Red Cloud - last town in Nebraska before the Kansas border. We passed through centre point of the 48 contiguous United States in Lebanon, Kansas; and drove through Kingfisher Oklahoma, birthplace of Walmart's Sam Walton.

An excellent trip!