As of October 9, 2009, the Prairie Traveler Guide website will be hosted at http://www.prairietravelerguide.com.
I hope to see you over at our new home!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Roads of the States: Tennessee
Of all the southern states save for my former home Virginia, Tennessee is probably the one I am most acquainted with. Sometimes the Volunteer State is the destination, with places such as Knoxville, Shiloh, and the Smoky Mountains. Other times it has been a state to cross, as in most of my trips to Florida, and the band trip to Atlanta my sophomore year in high school. Either way I have become familiar with many of its roads.
The one I am most familiar with is Interstate 24. As the main connection between Nashville and I-75 at Chattanooga, and therefore Florida, it has carried me many times. I've traveled its entire length in the state, usually accessing it just north of the state line near Hopkinsville, KY. Its path includes one of the most scenic scenes on the Eastern section of the interstate highway system, rising high atop the Appalachians near Monteagle, before plunging back down towards Chattanooga. For a good stretch, the road parallels the Tennesee River, the last segment located in the shadow of Lookout Mountain. It is by far the most enjoyable part of the drive from Illinois to Florida, which is on the whole a rather bland drive.
In addition to I-24, I've also spent a lot of time on I-40, and I-75. Both are good ways to get to the Smoky Mountains from Illinois, and both played a significant role in getting us to Virginia during my post-college Civil War trip. I've traveled all of I-75 in the state, but haven't really traveled west of Nashville on I-40. Even traveling on I-40 east of Nashville, you get a sense of how wide the state of Tennessee is. Its no wonder some places in the east of the state are closer to Washington than Nashville.
As for shun-piking, I can't say I have done that much in the state. I've travelled the scenic roads in and around Smoky Mountain National Park, and have also done some traveling on the roads near Shiloh and Pickwick Lake. I've wanted to check out the Natchez Trace Parkway, but the closest I have come is crossing the road while traveling US 64 towards Monteagle on the Civil War trip.
For a Yankee flatlander, I have to say I enjoy most of the scenery of Tennessee. Its rolling hills in the west and center, and alternating mountains and valleys in the east are very enjoyable. I can't say the drive through Nashville has ever been very pleasant, but it is a nice looking city. I hope some day to drive more of the roads of the home state of Old Hickory.
The one I am most familiar with is Interstate 24. As the main connection between Nashville and I-75 at Chattanooga, and therefore Florida, it has carried me many times. I've traveled its entire length in the state, usually accessing it just north of the state line near Hopkinsville, KY. Its path includes one of the most scenic scenes on the Eastern section of the interstate highway system, rising high atop the Appalachians near Monteagle, before plunging back down towards Chattanooga. For a good stretch, the road parallels the Tennesee River, the last segment located in the shadow of Lookout Mountain. It is by far the most enjoyable part of the drive from Illinois to Florida, which is on the whole a rather bland drive.
In addition to I-24, I've also spent a lot of time on I-40, and I-75. Both are good ways to get to the Smoky Mountains from Illinois, and both played a significant role in getting us to Virginia during my post-college Civil War trip. I've traveled all of I-75 in the state, but haven't really traveled west of Nashville on I-40. Even traveling on I-40 east of Nashville, you get a sense of how wide the state of Tennessee is. Its no wonder some places in the east of the state are closer to Washington than Nashville.
As for shun-piking, I can't say I have done that much in the state. I've travelled the scenic roads in and around Smoky Mountain National Park, and have also done some traveling on the roads near Shiloh and Pickwick Lake. I've wanted to check out the Natchez Trace Parkway, but the closest I have come is crossing the road while traveling US 64 towards Monteagle on the Civil War trip.
For a Yankee flatlander, I have to say I enjoy most of the scenery of Tennessee. Its rolling hills in the west and center, and alternating mountains and valleys in the east are very enjoyable. I can't say the drive through Nashville has ever been very pleasant, but it is a nice looking city. I hope some day to drive more of the roads of the home state of Old Hickory.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Mother Road
After watching Cars tonight, I thought for a while about old Route 66. Mostly decommissioned by the time I was born, I've only known it as an idea, a relic of an earlier time of automobile travel. In the pantheon of American transportation, it sits along side the National Road, the Oregon Trail, and the great passenger lines of the U.S. rail network. Being a history buff, and a travel fan as well, it always frustrated me that US-66 wasn't kept around, like many other highways that have since been rendered obsolete by the Interstate Highway system.
I personally have traveled alongside or on much of the old highway. The largest part of the highway that I followed was during a family vacation to the Grand Canyon. From the St. Louis area (where we crossed the Mississippi in sight of the Chain of Rocks bridge) to Flagstaff, we followed the infamous interstates that overtook Route 66. Along much of the road, especially west of Oklahoma City, you could view the old pavement, some of it still drivable, while other portions were in bad shape. Although I would have preferred taking the time to explore some of the road, the family did want to get to the Grand Canyon as quick as possible, so I had to put that off until I could explore it myself.
An opportunity to extend my experience of traveling part of Route 66 came in February 2009. On a whim, I decided to take a day trip to the southwest of Champaign-Urbana. After traveling through some of Abraham Lincoln's stomping grounds, I decided to follow Route 66 from Williamsville up to US 136 at McLean, IL. The entire route was still there, although some parts looked like they hadn't been touched since I-55 had been built. The next day I continued on an even longer portion of the road, going from Towanda to Joliet, where I headed west on US 6 towards Ottawa.
Other than taking the scenic route through most of the towns (such as Lincoln, Dwight, Atlanta, and Pontiac), US 66 in this part of Illinois is almost exactly parallel to I-55. Its a leisurely drive, with very little traffic, but I can't say you miss much by taking the interstate, especially considering you can always visit the towns by taking the exits.
However, this was just one part of one state's segment of the road. I am sure that it has a much greater effect when you try to follow it as close as possible from Chicago to Los Angeles. As similar of a view as it was to the interstate, i still felt like I was following history back to a time when the roads were two lanes, the signs were neon, and the hash was (almost) always fresh.
I personally have traveled alongside or on much of the old highway. The largest part of the highway that I followed was during a family vacation to the Grand Canyon. From the St. Louis area (where we crossed the Mississippi in sight of the Chain of Rocks bridge) to Flagstaff, we followed the infamous interstates that overtook Route 66. Along much of the road, especially west of Oklahoma City, you could view the old pavement, some of it still drivable, while other portions were in bad shape. Although I would have preferred taking the time to explore some of the road, the family did want to get to the Grand Canyon as quick as possible, so I had to put that off until I could explore it myself.
An opportunity to extend my experience of traveling part of Route 66 came in February 2009. On a whim, I decided to take a day trip to the southwest of Champaign-Urbana. After traveling through some of Abraham Lincoln's stomping grounds, I decided to follow Route 66 from Williamsville up to US 136 at McLean, IL. The entire route was still there, although some parts looked like they hadn't been touched since I-55 had been built. The next day I continued on an even longer portion of the road, going from Towanda to Joliet, where I headed west on US 6 towards Ottawa.
Other than taking the scenic route through most of the towns (such as Lincoln, Dwight, Atlanta, and Pontiac), US 66 in this part of Illinois is almost exactly parallel to I-55. Its a leisurely drive, with very little traffic, but I can't say you miss much by taking the interstate, especially considering you can always visit the towns by taking the exits.
However, this was just one part of one state's segment of the road. I am sure that it has a much greater effect when you try to follow it as close as possible from Chicago to Los Angeles. As similar of a view as it was to the interstate, i still felt like I was following history back to a time when the roads were two lanes, the signs were neon, and the hash was (almost) always fresh.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Meet Me in St. Louis, Part II
Note: This was written and posted on July 16, I swear. It was just posted on August Prairie, instead of the proper blog. Mea culpa.
Hey Howdy Hey, y'all, we're back to the hotel room in Collinsville, finished with our day in St. Louis. The weather was warm, but not overly oppressive, and it didn't rain on us at the zoo. In addition to the zoo we drove around downtown St. Louis and ate supper at a Dewey's pizza. All in all it was a good day.
If you have never visited, I recommend going to the St. Louis zoo. Its a wonderful zoo in the middle of the city's Forest Park. It's free (although the parking is $11.00), and there is a wide variety of animals to see. The newest addition to the zoo is a pool full of stingrays, which you can pet. Although the stingrays are not free, it is a neat thing to do, especially if you have small kids.
Also, I would have to recommend the pizza at Dewey's. Although it shares a name with the dump that has long since vanished from Champaign, it is nothing like that place. Although it might be considered pizza heresy in the St. Louis area, I like it much better than Imos. I am willing to give Imos another shot some time, however, just not on this trip.
Since my sister is moving from St. Louis in a couple of weeks, I'm not sure when I'll be back. However, I've seen enough of the city that I doubt it will be all that long.
Hey Howdy Hey, y'all, we're back to the hotel room in Collinsville, finished with our day in St. Louis. The weather was warm, but not overly oppressive, and it didn't rain on us at the zoo. In addition to the zoo we drove around downtown St. Louis and ate supper at a Dewey's pizza. All in all it was a good day.
If you have never visited, I recommend going to the St. Louis zoo. Its a wonderful zoo in the middle of the city's Forest Park. It's free (although the parking is $11.00), and there is a wide variety of animals to see. The newest addition to the zoo is a pool full of stingrays, which you can pet. Although the stingrays are not free, it is a neat thing to do, especially if you have small kids.
Also, I would have to recommend the pizza at Dewey's. Although it shares a name with the dump that has long since vanished from Champaign, it is nothing like that place. Although it might be considered pizza heresy in the St. Louis area, I like it much better than Imos. I am willing to give Imos another shot some time, however, just not on this trip.
Since my sister is moving from St. Louis in a couple of weeks, I'm not sure when I'll be back. However, I've seen enough of the city that I doubt it will be all that long.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Meet Me in St. Louis, Part I
I'm currently in the greater St. Louis area with my parents to visit my sister. Its my third trip to see her since she moved down here to intern at the St. Louis Zoo last year. I'll have more details about the current trip tomorrow and Friday, but tonight I want to focus on my second trip down here.
Unlike the other two trips, I took the train from Bloomington. My brother and I sat in the first class, almost a necessity given our height, which makes the standard seats less than comfortable, especially on long rides. It was a quick ride down the rails, with only stops at Springfield and Alton. A few minutes after the scheduled time we arrived at the new Amtrak station, just a couple of blocks from the old Union Station (which is now a shopping center).
We were there in early March, which oftentimes is a fairly mild time to visit St. Louis. In fact, the week before temperatures were in the 70s and sunny. However, the weekend we decided to go down there happened to be during the middle of a cold spell. The temperature was in the 30s both days. Although it could have been worse (at least it was sunny), it certainly wasn't the best walking weather.
Nevertheless, we did have fun. We ate at a couple of good restaurants near my sister's apartment, drove around the hills and hollows southwest of St. Louis, and visited the old courthouse near the arch. We visited the zoo, which was a blast, except that many of the animals were not out, due to the near-freezing weather. At least we didn't have to deal with crowds.
Less than thirty-six hours after we arrived, my brother and I were back on the train to Bloomington. The train ride back to the north was just as uneventful as the trip down, save for an adventure to Taco Bell after we got back to the station in Bloomington*. It was a short trip, but an enjoyable one.
Coming tomorrow: I marvel at the animals sleeping in the mid-day haze, as I stupidly walk around sweating profusely.
* Not as interesting of a story as this sentence makes it sound.
Unlike the other two trips, I took the train from Bloomington. My brother and I sat in the first class, almost a necessity given our height, which makes the standard seats less than comfortable, especially on long rides. It was a quick ride down the rails, with only stops at Springfield and Alton. A few minutes after the scheduled time we arrived at the new Amtrak station, just a couple of blocks from the old Union Station (which is now a shopping center).
We were there in early March, which oftentimes is a fairly mild time to visit St. Louis. In fact, the week before temperatures were in the 70s and sunny. However, the weekend we decided to go down there happened to be during the middle of a cold spell. The temperature was in the 30s both days. Although it could have been worse (at least it was sunny), it certainly wasn't the best walking weather.
Nevertheless, we did have fun. We ate at a couple of good restaurants near my sister's apartment, drove around the hills and hollows southwest of St. Louis, and visited the old courthouse near the arch. We visited the zoo, which was a blast, except that many of the animals were not out, due to the near-freezing weather. At least we didn't have to deal with crowds.
Less than thirty-six hours after we arrived, my brother and I were back on the train to Bloomington. The train ride back to the north was just as uneventful as the trip down, save for an adventure to Taco Bell after we got back to the station in Bloomington*. It was a short trip, but an enjoyable one.
Coming tomorrow: I marvel at the animals sleeping in the mid-day haze, as I stupidly walk around sweating profusely.
* Not as interesting of a story as this sentence makes it sound.
Friday, July 10, 2009
My Tribute to Illinois Highway 49
Today we are here to honor a most irrelevant and unenjoyable road by the name of Illinois Highway 49. Beginning in Willow Hill, Illinois, and ending north of Crescent City at the juncture of US 45/52, the road goes through no major cities. Traveling it is about as interesting as watching paint dry while listening to a Perry Como song. Other than being a decent way to get to Chicago from Vermilion County and getting grain trucks to interstate highways, it seems to serve no real purpose.
I admit I am a bit biased. The only speeding ticket I ever received was on a deserted stretch of the road just outside of Brockton. I'm sure I wasn't the only person ever to get a ticket on that road, but it still smarts. I never speed as fast as I was, but the bland scenery, combined with me being in deep thought, just happened to kick the speedometer above 70 just when a state trooper drove by in the other lane.
Even given my personal bias, and the definite mediocrity of the road, I can't entirely dislike it. The road, especially the part from Fithian to its northern terminus, has been well traveled by me. It has taken me on field trips, chess meets and family vacations. As I mentioned before, its a good way to get to Chicago from my hometown. I have good memories of traveling down that road, the sun barely up in the east, the early morning frost sitting on the fields. And if it creates such positive memories, it can't be all bad, right?
I admit I am a bit biased. The only speeding ticket I ever received was on a deserted stretch of the road just outside of Brockton. I'm sure I wasn't the only person ever to get a ticket on that road, but it still smarts. I never speed as fast as I was, but the bland scenery, combined with me being in deep thought, just happened to kick the speedometer above 70 just when a state trooper drove by in the other lane.
Even given my personal bias, and the definite mediocrity of the road, I can't entirely dislike it. The road, especially the part from Fithian to its northern terminus, has been well traveled by me. It has taken me on field trips, chess meets and family vacations. As I mentioned before, its a good way to get to Chicago from my hometown. I have good memories of traveling down that road, the sun barely up in the east, the early morning frost sitting on the fields. And if it creates such positive memories, it can't be all bad, right?
Monday, July 6, 2009
July 3rd in the No Shirt Section: A Second Perspective
July 3rd, 1998: I don't really remember a whole lot about it. I was 11 then. That morning, I remember waking up and seeing dolphins in the ocean (I had slept comfortably on a roll-away next to the balcony window) and I remember sea-shell collecting with mom and dad. I remember IHOP...vaguely....although having a large attention span has never been a strong point of mine. 20 minutes and 2 hours are pretty much interchangable in some cases. I do remember getting lost...several times. And I do remember the Chi-Chi's burning down, and the Mariachi band. I also remember that somehow in the maze that is Fredrick we found a NICER, CLEANER hotel...however we already had our reservations in the one night resort known as Fredrick Inn.
My other brother and I were most dissapointed with the closed pool; it was part of the "refurbishment" of the motel. The actual room didn't phase me too much; I remember it being "icky" and I remember that mom told us not to take our shoes off while we were walking around. In fact, mom made it pretty clear that if we wanted to live then we should not touch ANYTHING in the room. There were offers to sleep in the van, which I believe were taken with all seriousness.
While sleeping with mom and dad is super cool when you're like....five....being 11 it wasn't so nice. As previouly mentioned, there were 2 double beds. The boys took up one, and absolutely NO ONE would sleep on the suspicious looking stained floor. From what I understand, sleeping with me wasn't a treat for the parents either. I tend to like my space when I sleep, and my ever-patient parents slept on the edges of the bed while I apparently sprawled out in the middle. I remember sleeping well.
From the way dad tells it, the final crazy happening took place around 3:00 a.m while the rest of us were sleeping. Dad awoke to the sound of frantic banging on the room door.
BANG BANG BANG BANG! "STELLA! STELLA OPEN THIS GOD-DAMN DOOR!"
Dad, not sure what to do, slowly approached the door and looked out the peephole. Outside was, predictably, a large shirtless man.
"STELLA!" BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG "STELLA OPEN THE DOOR!"
The way dad tells it, he felt he was left with two choices; stay quiet and hope the irate, possibly drunken, shirtless man would leave or answer the door and risk getting beat up by a misunderstanding that this strange man was found in the same room as his beloved (?) Stella.
Fortunately, dad didn't have to think about it too long as he hears the man walk away and open a door down the hall. He figures Stella woke up a few rooms down, opened their room door and leaned out and probably said something along the lines of "You jackass! Get over here!"
Reflecting on this rendition of dad's story, a story that actually could only be told by the man himself, I wonder if maybe dad shouldn't invest in starting his own blog...or at least becoming a regular contributor to Prairie Traveler.
My other brother and I were most dissapointed with the closed pool; it was part of the "refurbishment" of the motel. The actual room didn't phase me too much; I remember it being "icky" and I remember that mom told us not to take our shoes off while we were walking around. In fact, mom made it pretty clear that if we wanted to live then we should not touch ANYTHING in the room. There were offers to sleep in the van, which I believe were taken with all seriousness.
While sleeping with mom and dad is super cool when you're like....five....being 11 it wasn't so nice. As previouly mentioned, there were 2 double beds. The boys took up one, and absolutely NO ONE would sleep on the suspicious looking stained floor. From what I understand, sleeping with me wasn't a treat for the parents either. I tend to like my space when I sleep, and my ever-patient parents slept on the edges of the bed while I apparently sprawled out in the middle. I remember sleeping well.
From the way dad tells it, the final crazy happening took place around 3:00 a.m while the rest of us were sleeping. Dad awoke to the sound of frantic banging on the room door.
BANG BANG BANG BANG! "STELLA! STELLA OPEN THIS GOD-DAMN DOOR!"
Dad, not sure what to do, slowly approached the door and looked out the peephole. Outside was, predictably, a large shirtless man.
"STELLA!" BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG "STELLA OPEN THE DOOR!"
The way dad tells it, he felt he was left with two choices; stay quiet and hope the irate, possibly drunken, shirtless man would leave or answer the door and risk getting beat up by a misunderstanding that this strange man was found in the same room as his beloved (?) Stella.
Fortunately, dad didn't have to think about it too long as he hears the man walk away and open a door down the hall. He figures Stella woke up a few rooms down, opened their room door and leaned out and probably said something along the lines of "You jackass! Get over here!"
Reflecting on this rendition of dad's story, a story that actually could only be told by the man himself, I wonder if maybe dad shouldn't invest in starting his own blog...or at least becoming a regular contributor to Prairie Traveler.
Friday, July 3, 2009
We'll Take Two Double Beds in the No Shirt Section - A Travel Story (Pt. 2)
View Part One Here
Because we were hungry, and because we wanted to spend as little time as possible in our motel room, we then looked in a phone book for a restaurant. After I spied a location of the late lamented Chi-Chi's chain in the phone book, we piled back into the minivan and headed out in search of dinner. It is here once again our midwestern reliance on grid street patterns and wide avenues failed us, as Frederick was full of meandering streets. We went through several areas of the town, never finding the main road on which our destination sat. After going halfway to Harpers Ferry along US 15, and then getting back on I-70 for a while, without any luck, my dad was about to give up. About at that moment, I saw a turnoff for the road we needed, and we appeared to finally be on our way to a relaxing meal.
While stopped at a redlight on this main commercial thoroughfare, we heard sirens in the distance. As they got closer, we were able to discern that they were from fire trucks. As the trucks passed us, I casually mentioned that it would be very funny if they were going to a fire at the Chi-Chis. Everyone in the van laughed, confident that it was just a joke.
A couple of blocks later, we were able to see the smoke pouring out of a building alongside the road. As we came ever closer to the fire, once again an off-handed comment of mine became a vision of reality. Thick black smoke was pouring out of the Chi-Chi's, as rescued patrons sipped their margaritas out on the front yard of the restaurant. At this point, we just had to laugh, as if it the burning down of the restaurant was the expected result of the day. Fortunately for us, there was a Mexican restaurant just down the street, with the manager standing outside watching his competitor slowly burn. Although I can't be certain, this was probably my first time at an "authentic" mexican restaurant. It was a nice experience, and a better meal than the one we would have had at Chi-Chi's, wandering mariachi band notwithstanding.
After our enjoyable meal, we headed back to our dingy motel room for an early night. But first, we stood outside and watched the fireworks show at the minor league stadium, which was just down the street from the motel. The fireworks were certainly pretty, and appeared to be a nice capper to a bizarre day. As we watched the fireworks, we looked around at the crowd around us. Almost every family standing in the parking lot had at least one family member who was shirtless. Noticing the pattern, I remarked that we must be in the no-shirt section. We all laughed wearily, well aware that things could certainly be worse than standing in a parking lot watching fireworks on a family vacation. Even if all our neighbors for the night were shirtless.
Because we were hungry, and because we wanted to spend as little time as possible in our motel room, we then looked in a phone book for a restaurant. After I spied a location of the late lamented Chi-Chi's chain in the phone book, we piled back into the minivan and headed out in search of dinner. It is here once again our midwestern reliance on grid street patterns and wide avenues failed us, as Frederick was full of meandering streets. We went through several areas of the town, never finding the main road on which our destination sat. After going halfway to Harpers Ferry along US 15, and then getting back on I-70 for a while, without any luck, my dad was about to give up. About at that moment, I saw a turnoff for the road we needed, and we appeared to finally be on our way to a relaxing meal.
While stopped at a redlight on this main commercial thoroughfare, we heard sirens in the distance. As they got closer, we were able to discern that they were from fire trucks. As the trucks passed us, I casually mentioned that it would be very funny if they were going to a fire at the Chi-Chis. Everyone in the van laughed, confident that it was just a joke.
A couple of blocks later, we were able to see the smoke pouring out of a building alongside the road. As we came ever closer to the fire, once again an off-handed comment of mine became a vision of reality. Thick black smoke was pouring out of the Chi-Chi's, as rescued patrons sipped their margaritas out on the front yard of the restaurant. At this point, we just had to laugh, as if it the burning down of the restaurant was the expected result of the day. Fortunately for us, there was a Mexican restaurant just down the street, with the manager standing outside watching his competitor slowly burn. Although I can't be certain, this was probably my first time at an "authentic" mexican restaurant. It was a nice experience, and a better meal than the one we would have had at Chi-Chi's, wandering mariachi band notwithstanding.
After our enjoyable meal, we headed back to our dingy motel room for an early night. But first, we stood outside and watched the fireworks show at the minor league stadium, which was just down the street from the motel. The fireworks were certainly pretty, and appeared to be a nice capper to a bizarre day. As we watched the fireworks, we looked around at the crowd around us. Almost every family standing in the parking lot had at least one family member who was shirtless. Noticing the pattern, I remarked that we must be in the no-shirt section. We all laughed wearily, well aware that things could certainly be worse than standing in a parking lot watching fireworks on a family vacation. Even if all our neighbors for the night were shirtless.
We'll Take Two Double Beds in the No Shirt Section - A Travel Story (Pt. 1)
Note: In contrast to yesterday's serious post about Gettysburg, I thought I would offer a light story about an adventurous day in my family's life. The day in question took place on July 3, 1998, during a trip out east, the day before a visit to Gettysburg.
Most days of my family vacations have been comfortably boring. By this, I mean that they were enjoyable, but not very memorable, involving travel to or from a destination, or just general days of relaxation and entertainment. However, once in a long while, there was a day that everyone in the family remembers very well. Sometimes these days are memorable in a honestly good way, full of happy and truly enjoyable moments. Some aren't so enjoyable at the time, but become funny as we move away from the day. A precious few days transcend that barrier completely and are packed with so many crazy occurrences that they immediately become favorite family stories. July 3, 1998 is one of those days.
The day began like any other day on the trip. It was the final morning at our hotel at the oceanfront in Virginia Beach. It was a pleasant enough morning, with my parents and sister taking a walk along the beach as my brother and I slept. We checked out of the hotel at a reasonable hour, with intentions of lazily traveling up to the Gettysburg area to spend the night. Independence Day in Gettysburg was the important day, as we would be visiting a reenactment as well as the battlefield. We thought that Gettysburg would be packed, but that Fredrick was far enough away we could get a hotel. After all, nobody needed a hotel room along I-70 less than an hour away from a major event at Gettysburg and the Fourth in Washington, right?
Before we depart the Hampton Roads area, we stop at an IHOP for breakfast. I am vague as to where this certain IHOP was in the city, and it probably is no longer there. At least, it probably shouldn't be, for it was one of the worst non McDonald's breakfast experiences our family has ever had. The waitress gets our order taken quick enough, and the family talks as we wait for our meal. We keep waiting....and keep waiting...and keep waiting. Finally, our waitress comes back over and apologizes, pretty much saying that some of the cooking staff had quit right on the spot, and things were taking a while. After a very long time, we finally got our food, although it came out in a slow and piecemeal fashion. After two hours or so, we finally finished our meal. The clock was pushing noon, and we weren't even out of Virginia Beach. Things were not starting out very well.
Nonetheless, we were fed, and we were finally on our way. We said goodbye to Virginia Beach, not knowing that I would be back for a 22 month stay about eight and a half years later. We crossed the Hampton Roads Bridge and Tunnel, and also crossed the Coleman Bridge at Yorktown, in sight of the battleground where the United States effectively won its independence. Once we were north of the York River, it was a nice, yet fairly boring drive up to Fredericksburg. We saw a lot of farmland, a few towns, and an occaisonal glimpse of the Potomac River. As afternoon was moving its way towards evening, we arrived at the National Park Service visitors center at Fredericksburg.
If you have ever been to Fredericksburg, you know that it is as uniformative of a battlefield as Gettysburg is informative. The modern city of Fredericksburg encroaches right up to the wall at Marye's Heights, quite possibly even farther than the Union got in December 1862. Sure the house with the bullet holes and the sunken road are neat, and you can get some idea of how it was, but it is kind of hard to picture the killing field before the wall when 20th century frame houses are within your eyeline. There are other, more pristine parts of the battlefield, and three other major battles (Wilderness, Spotsylvania, and Chancellorsville) are part of the park. However, given that Gettysburg was our destination, we only had time for a quick stop. More exploration of this hotbed of Civil War action would have to wait for another time.
Up until now, except for our marathon breakfast and a minor detour through the redeveloping area of Newport News, things were going fine. They stayed fine until we entered the Beltway. I had convinced my dad to skip the bypass and go along the George Washington Parkway across from Washington, so we could get a quick glimpse of the skyline of our nation's capitol. As we drove towards the Pentagon, I made an joking remark to my dad that if we crossed the river, we had gone too far.
Unfortunately, that joke was actually an unintentional prophecy, as we cruised on across the Potomac into the District of Columbia. I feel it necessary to remind you that this was the day before Independence Day. It was the dress rehearsal day for the big festivities, and the city was packed. My dad wasn't too happy about having to navigate through the traffic, although we did get to see several of the monuments and a close-up view of the White House. Other than the stress caused by having to drive through the mess, I'm sure every one did get some enjoyment out of the quick detour through our Washingotn.
Within minutes my dad had gotten us back on the parkway, and towards I-70 and Frederick. It is at this point we lapsed into our Illinois sense of distance, not understanding that Frederick was as close to Washington and Gettysburg as Ridge Farm is to Champaign and Danville. Not only is Frederick close to both places, but also it is right on I-70, a major conduit between Washington and pretty much everywhere west of there. So instead of expecting everywhere to be full, or reserving a room in advance, we strolled up to our usual chain motel choices and tried our luck. Place after place our luck was a failure, until the clerk at one of the hotels gave us a possible choice: The Frederick Inn.
Therefore, we drove over to The Frederick Inn, our one hope for the night. And what luck, they had a room. Sure, it was in the part of the hotel that wasn't remodeled, and the place looked a bit weathered. But we had a room for the night. Yeah, the beds were tiny, the carpet looked like it was pieced together from stained samples, and the non-carpeted floor wasn't much better. At least we had a place to rest for the night, even if I felt compelled to sleep in the van instead of the room. My parents were right in convincing me to stay in the room, although not by much.
Continue with Part 2
Most days of my family vacations have been comfortably boring. By this, I mean that they were enjoyable, but not very memorable, involving travel to or from a destination, or just general days of relaxation and entertainment. However, once in a long while, there was a day that everyone in the family remembers very well. Sometimes these days are memorable in a honestly good way, full of happy and truly enjoyable moments. Some aren't so enjoyable at the time, but become funny as we move away from the day. A precious few days transcend that barrier completely and are packed with so many crazy occurrences that they immediately become favorite family stories. July 3, 1998 is one of those days.
The day began like any other day on the trip. It was the final morning at our hotel at the oceanfront in Virginia Beach. It was a pleasant enough morning, with my parents and sister taking a walk along the beach as my brother and I slept. We checked out of the hotel at a reasonable hour, with intentions of lazily traveling up to the Gettysburg area to spend the night. Independence Day in Gettysburg was the important day, as we would be visiting a reenactment as well as the battlefield. We thought that Gettysburg would be packed, but that Fredrick was far enough away we could get a hotel. After all, nobody needed a hotel room along I-70 less than an hour away from a major event at Gettysburg and the Fourth in Washington, right?
Before we depart the Hampton Roads area, we stop at an IHOP for breakfast. I am vague as to where this certain IHOP was in the city, and it probably is no longer there. At least, it probably shouldn't be, for it was one of the worst non McDonald's breakfast experiences our family has ever had. The waitress gets our order taken quick enough, and the family talks as we wait for our meal. We keep waiting....and keep waiting...and keep waiting. Finally, our waitress comes back over and apologizes, pretty much saying that some of the cooking staff had quit right on the spot, and things were taking a while. After a very long time, we finally got our food, although it came out in a slow and piecemeal fashion. After two hours or so, we finally finished our meal. The clock was pushing noon, and we weren't even out of Virginia Beach. Things were not starting out very well.
Nonetheless, we were fed, and we were finally on our way. We said goodbye to Virginia Beach, not knowing that I would be back for a 22 month stay about eight and a half years later. We crossed the Hampton Roads Bridge and Tunnel, and also crossed the Coleman Bridge at Yorktown, in sight of the battleground where the United States effectively won its independence. Once we were north of the York River, it was a nice, yet fairly boring drive up to Fredericksburg. We saw a lot of farmland, a few towns, and an occaisonal glimpse of the Potomac River. As afternoon was moving its way towards evening, we arrived at the National Park Service visitors center at Fredericksburg.
If you have ever been to Fredericksburg, you know that it is as uniformative of a battlefield as Gettysburg is informative. The modern city of Fredericksburg encroaches right up to the wall at Marye's Heights, quite possibly even farther than the Union got in December 1862. Sure the house with the bullet holes and the sunken road are neat, and you can get some idea of how it was, but it is kind of hard to picture the killing field before the wall when 20th century frame houses are within your eyeline. There are other, more pristine parts of the battlefield, and three other major battles (Wilderness, Spotsylvania, and Chancellorsville) are part of the park. However, given that Gettysburg was our destination, we only had time for a quick stop. More exploration of this hotbed of Civil War action would have to wait for another time.
Up until now, except for our marathon breakfast and a minor detour through the redeveloping area of Newport News, things were going fine. They stayed fine until we entered the Beltway. I had convinced my dad to skip the bypass and go along the George Washington Parkway across from Washington, so we could get a quick glimpse of the skyline of our nation's capitol. As we drove towards the Pentagon, I made an joking remark to my dad that if we crossed the river, we had gone too far.
Unfortunately, that joke was actually an unintentional prophecy, as we cruised on across the Potomac into the District of Columbia. I feel it necessary to remind you that this was the day before Independence Day. It was the dress rehearsal day for the big festivities, and the city was packed. My dad wasn't too happy about having to navigate through the traffic, although we did get to see several of the monuments and a close-up view of the White House. Other than the stress caused by having to drive through the mess, I'm sure every one did get some enjoyment out of the quick detour through our Washingotn.
Within minutes my dad had gotten us back on the parkway, and towards I-70 and Frederick. It is at this point we lapsed into our Illinois sense of distance, not understanding that Frederick was as close to Washington and Gettysburg as Ridge Farm is to Champaign and Danville. Not only is Frederick close to both places, but also it is right on I-70, a major conduit between Washington and pretty much everywhere west of there. So instead of expecting everywhere to be full, or reserving a room in advance, we strolled up to our usual chain motel choices and tried our luck. Place after place our luck was a failure, until the clerk at one of the hotels gave us a possible choice: The Frederick Inn.
Therefore, we drove over to The Frederick Inn, our one hope for the night. And what luck, they had a room. Sure, it was in the part of the hotel that wasn't remodeled, and the place looked a bit weathered. But we had a room for the night. Yeah, the beds were tiny, the carpet looked like it was pieced together from stained samples, and the non-carpeted floor wasn't much better. At least we had a place to rest for the night, even if I felt compelled to sleep in the van instead of the room. My parents were right in convincing me to stay in the room, although not by much.
Continue with Part 2
Thursday, July 2, 2009
On Gettysburg
One hundred and forty-six years ago today the bloody middle day of the battle of Gettysburg took place. Although it wasn't the day of the most famous event of the battle (Pickett's Charge), many important events took place on this day. Whether it was the charge of the 20th Maine, the sacrifice of the 2nd Minnesota, or the desperate overnight fighting around Culps HIll, it was a close struggle. Utlimately, however, the Union held its line, setting up the famous and unsucessful charge on July 3. Four and a half months later Abraham Lincoln would give his famous Address at the newly dedicated cemetery.
If you can only visit one National Battlefield, I would recommend Gettysburg. Few other battlefields give you as good of a sense of the ground, of what each army was fighting for. Several states have monuments, some of which are absolutely amazing and pieces of history by themselves. It is simply amazing to stand atop Little Round Top and wonder at the sheer strength of will it took the soldiers of the Confederacy to charge that steep hill, or the soldiers of the Union to hold it.
The Civil War was then, and still is, the great tragedy of the United States. The Battle of Gettysburg, combined with the surrender of Vicksburg on July 4, were effective turning points in the great conflict. At that point, the Union may still have lost the war, but it became almost impossible for the Confederacy to win. In the fields and forests outside of that small Pennsylvania town, the fate of our nation was quite possibly decided. Walking on that hallowed ground today, the peace and serenity contrasts greatly with the cacaphonous hell that was the battlefield that terrible July day.
If you can only visit one National Battlefield, I would recommend Gettysburg. Few other battlefields give you as good of a sense of the ground, of what each army was fighting for. Several states have monuments, some of which are absolutely amazing and pieces of history by themselves. It is simply amazing to stand atop Little Round Top and wonder at the sheer strength of will it took the soldiers of the Confederacy to charge that steep hill, or the soldiers of the Union to hold it.
The Civil War was then, and still is, the great tragedy of the United States. The Battle of Gettysburg, combined with the surrender of Vicksburg on July 4, were effective turning points in the great conflict. At that point, the Union may still have lost the war, but it became almost impossible for the Confederacy to win. In the fields and forests outside of that small Pennsylvania town, the fate of our nation was quite possibly decided. Walking on that hallowed ground today, the peace and serenity contrasts greatly with the cacaphonous hell that was the battlefield that terrible July day.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
A Month of Writing: 31 Posts in 31 Days
Welcome one and all, to my latest experiment on my great blogpire. In order to find my writing voice, and just to see if I can stay committed to something, I am going to write one blog post a day during the month of July, the result being 31 total posts.
This experiment will have a few ground rules. First off, the one post a day is one post total, and not 1 each on the four blogs I (in theory) maintain. This limit is in place because I really haven't shown an ability to keep up with the one post a day goal before. Other more economically beneficial commitments must be kept, and I want to do the best job possible with these posts, so I need to keep the goal somewhat realistic.
Second, each post won't just be a link and a quick blurb. Each post will be at least three paragraphs long. I intend to keep the posts to the point and as entertaining as possible. I've gotten rather rusty in the writing game, being out of it for a while. By July 31, I hope my work will be an improvement over the earliest pieces.
Finally, each post will be on the appropriate blog. If it is political, historical, or another serious topic of that nature, it will go on August Prairie. If it is related to movies, sports, games, web development, or just general ruminations, it will go on Quo Vadimus. Travel stories will go on Prairie Traveler Guide, and Vermilion County related posts will go up on the Vermilion Expat. If you wish to see a list of the posted stories in a central location, I have a page here. Each blog will have a link to the 31 Days of Writing page.
Please keep checking back every day. I hope to have the next story up by 5:00 (although tomorrow's post won't be up until later in the evening). And don't hesitate to offer feedback, as comments will be open for business on every post.
One down, 30 to go. Let it begin!
This experiment will have a few ground rules. First off, the one post a day is one post total, and not 1 each on the four blogs I (in theory) maintain. This limit is in place because I really haven't shown an ability to keep up with the one post a day goal before. Other more economically beneficial commitments must be kept, and I want to do the best job possible with these posts, so I need to keep the goal somewhat realistic.
Second, each post won't just be a link and a quick blurb. Each post will be at least three paragraphs long. I intend to keep the posts to the point and as entertaining as possible. I've gotten rather rusty in the writing game, being out of it for a while. By July 31, I hope my work will be an improvement over the earliest pieces.
Finally, each post will be on the appropriate blog. If it is political, historical, or another serious topic of that nature, it will go on August Prairie. If it is related to movies, sports, games, web development, or just general ruminations, it will go on Quo Vadimus. Travel stories will go on Prairie Traveler Guide, and Vermilion County related posts will go up on the Vermilion Expat. If you wish to see a list of the posted stories in a central location, I have a page here. Each blog will have a link to the 31 Days of Writing page.
Please keep checking back every day. I hope to have the next story up by 5:00 (although tomorrow's post won't be up until later in the evening). And don't hesitate to offer feedback, as comments will be open for business on every post.
One down, 30 to go. Let it begin!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Google Maps Custom Routing: An Imperfect Tool
For the most part, I'm a big fan of Google's various products and services. My personal email is gmail, I often use google docs instead of Office, iWork, or Open Office. Heck, this blog is located at blogger, a Google entity.
Above all, I am a big fan of Google Maps. It is just a much smoother interface than Mapquest (or the godawful product known as Microsoft Maps), and I like how the directions interface works. Until today, I was a big fan of the ability to do custom routing.
Although I still find it to be a somewhat useful tool, I recognize now that it still has a way to go. Trying to chart the map of a road trip I took earlier in the day (more on this in a later post), I was about ready to pull my hair out. Often times it doesn't seem to get that I want to go a certain way, and does weird stuff instead, doubling back on itself, or routing itself way out of the way.
It was like moving heaven and earth just to get the damn thing to take the main road between SR 48 and Maroa, IL, always trying to take I 72 instead.
Maybe I'm just not using it right, or maybe I expected far too much. If any one reading this has some tips, or even possibly a better tool for this purpose, I would be interested to hear from you about this. The comments are open for discussion on this and other online mapping services.
See you out on the road!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Traveling into the (or away from) the Sunrise
As anyone who knows me can attest, I am not a morning person. If I could get away with it, I probably wouldn't get up until at least 10:00. Unfortunately, that would make me about 90 minutes late to work.
When it comes to travel, however, I can easily get up at a very early hour. As I have gone on many road trips, most of them have started early in the morning, sometimes even before the sun is up. I love how things look in the morning, the trip not yet started, the experiences ahead instead of behind me.
On my trip out west, I started at or before sunrise several days, to maximize my enjoyment of the sites before me. I remember the cool dew-filled morning as I left Rock Island, and the crisp air outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming. I remember the sun coming up behind me as I drove through the Nevada desert to Yosemite, and the sun rising over the canyon walls as I headed back up to the Yosemite Valley the next morning. Most of all I remember the frost and fog outside of Glacier National Park, and the sun rising over the mountains as I drove along the Yellowstone River towards the Roosevelt Gate.
The world can be a very beautiful place when the sun rises. I'm not certain why I can't find that beauty every morning, but I do appreciate it when going on my road trips. Maybe I can take the feeling of anticipation for a day a travel and apply to my regular daily routine.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Holidays 07-08: From VA to IL and back via Amtrak
A year ago today I had just finished my trip home for the holidays, and was getting settled back into my daily routine in Virginia. Unlike 2006, when I made a quick drive home for Christmas, I decided to take Amtrak from Newport News to Chicago, and then took the trip back again after the New Year.
Although sitting on a train for about 25 hours each way was somewhat tiring, I still found it to be a mostly enjoyable adventure. Although a lack of vacation days due to moving jobs prevents me from taking the trip this year, I hope sometime soon to take one of the cross-country routes from Chicago to Seattle or Chicago to the San Fran/Oakland area. Of course when I do that, I'll be taking one of the sleeper berths. Instead of travel for a destination, the journey will be the main objective of the trip.
Although I always admired the concept of Amtrak, actually traveling the rails has further cemented my support of it as an alternative to the crowded cattlejets of the airlines. Although the cross-country trains can't compete with the airlines, it still can be a viable regional solution, and there really should be many more trains in Illinois. I would love to see a route from Indianapolis to Springfield, connecting to Chicago from Champaign and St. Louis from Springfield. Maybe with a longtime user of Amtrak in our next administration, real progress in the world of rail travel might happen.
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