Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Lickety-split across the USA

     When I left Montana on October 8th, I had just 13 days to enjoy my travels east across the USA. I had an appointment in Towson, Maryland which I couldn't cancel so I metered out my required daily mileage to 250 miles. Instead of programming "faster routes" on my GPS, I programmed it for "shorter routes" so I could drive through alot of small towns. I'm a happy camper going 50 mph on two-lane hilly roads between towns with 35 mph speed limits. Those routes give me plenty of opportunities for rubber-necking and head-bobbing . . . and U-turns.

     I saw alot of funny Halloween decorations on alot of front porches and yards, as well as alot of historic well-kept homes and old homes with lots of potential. And I saw cornfields in all shades of yellow being harvested from Wyoming to Ohio. I also spent quite a few camping spots next to a farm like this one . . . .


     I took a "spa day" and stopped at the Casper, Wyoming Recreation Center to swim a mile and shower (plus use the jacuzzi). I stopped at the Ayres Natural Bridge Park for a free night of camping . . . . you can see La Lair under the bridge.


     Also took a quicky bike ride the next morning; temps were under 40 degrees!


The campground is too small for anything longer than 30 feet.


     I love chicory in my coffee, so I stopped at Chicory USA, the only processing plant that roasts chicory roots in the entire USA. Chicory roots look like misshapen turnips and are grown and harvested much like sugar beets.


     The plant is located in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, and the processing folks (unlike the sales-lady) are very friendly. They gave me a tour of the facilities. That mound of brown behind the sign are freshly harvested chicory roots (soil-covered chicory root which is actually a white color).


Huge sorting, cleaning, drying, and roasting machines . . .


     For an interesting story behind why folks couldn't afford coffee and began drinking chicory, click here. And for other sites about chicory as a dietary supplement, click here. I used to order roasted chicory from Community Coffee which sells the famed Orleans Coffee and Chicory blends, but since their chicory is roasted overseas, it's not as fresh-tasting as Nebraska's roasted chicory.

     This cattle auction caught my eyes while passing through Torrington, Wyoming. Little heifers are going for about $50 each now-a-days.


     And since the capitol building of Illinois was just two blocks from my lickety-split route, I stopped for a quick tour that lasted as long as my last quarter for one-half hour meter parking nearby. Yes, my friends who know me well, I really should learn to carry cash and coins with me . . . .



And when a local flea market attracted hords of campers for a weekend (no campsite vacancies for miles around, long lines of traffic in the opposing lanes), I found myself in need of ANY campground with electricity. Finally settled down at the Indiana State Fairgrounds, thanks again to the helpful downloaded GPS database by Ultimate Campgrounds.


     A cold front was moving throughout the midwest that weekend, so the next night I found myself at another fairground (in Ohio) with electricity of course. I'm a fairweather camper. I don't do frost. This is my bicycle cover I brought inside La Lair to drip-dry the next morning . . . .


I found time to stop at Seneca Rocks in West Virginia. There's a pleasant trail to an overlook near the rocks.


This is the second time I've done this trail . . .


Lichen on many large and small rocks . . .


     I also stopped in Virginia to walk a very small section of the Appalachian Trail. I met another solo woman there and we chatted it up for quite awhile. It's amazing to me, as during my travels I've run into quite a few solo women travelers/hikers who are super-friendly. It's very encouraging and affirming.

     Although lickety-split travels are not my thing, this one was good enuf! Made most memorable because of waking up in Wyoming to the Teton Mountain of Gold. I'm still in awe of that sunrise . . . .


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