Odyssey 2017 Historic Route 66 Journals
Journal Entry Days
001, 002, 003, 004, 005, 006, 007, 008, 009, 010, 011, 012, 013, 014, 015, 016, 017, 018, 019, 020, 021, 022, 023, 024, 025, 026, 027, 028, 029, 030, 031, 032, 033, 034, 035, 036, 037, 038, 039, 040, 041, 042, 043, 044, 045, 046, 047, 048, 049, 050, 051, 052, 053, 054, 055, 056, 057, 058, 059, 060, 061, 062, 063, 064, 065, 066, 067, 068, 069, 070, 071, 072, 073, 074, 075, 076, 077, 078, 079, 080, 081, 082, 083, 084, 085, 086, 087, 088, 089, 090, 091, 092, 093, 094, 095, 096, 097, 098, 099, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121
Thursday–July 27, 2017
Trail Day–001 Maps 1-5
Trail Mile–17.5/0017.5
Location–Indian Head Park, then on to Del Rhea’s
My niece, Kim, drove me to the Amtrak Station yesterday morning for my all day train ride to Chicago. It was an enjoyable trip. I’ve enjoyed riding trains ever since I was a kid.
In Chicago for the night, I took a room at the downtown HI Hostel. It’s only a few blocks from Union Station, and the beginning of Historic Route 66. A fine, inexpensive place, considering rooms downtown Chicago can run way up in four figures for one night.
I’m up early, have my pack shouldered and by six-thirty, I’m at the corner of Adams and 
Michigan, the beginning of Historic Route 66. Overcast and cool, looks like it’s going to be a great first day back on the trail (road).
I thought I’d have the street to myself this morning, but people are already heading for work. I take a picture of the first Route 66 marker, then move on down the street–to blend right in. Yes, practically everyone is carrying a pack. Some folks look at me sort of funny though; it’s the sticks. Most have probably never seen hiking sticks. Ski poles–yes, but not hiking sticks. “Hey, old man, ain’t no snow here now!” Usual comment.
The Berghoff Restaurant (since 1898) is only a couple blocks away, right on the old route. So, I’d planned on breakfast there, but they’re not open till eleven. No problem! On up a few more blocks is Lou Mitchell’s (since 1926). They’re open for breakfast. In I go, to meet Faye, fifth generation, same family running the old place. Incredible breakfast. My two egg order comes out as four, and I have to work at putting away all the country fries. Faye pauses to pose with me for a picture before returning to her customers. The half-hour I’m at Lou’s, the place totally fills up.
Heading out of Chicago, Route 66 goes west, then southwest, passing the old Castle Car Wash (long ago closed), then Henry’s Drive-In. It’s mid-morning now and the day’s warming right up. Henry’s appears to be a neat old place, so I head in–to step back into the 1950s! I linger, have a pop, and look at the old photos.
I had felt less than comfortable this morning starting this trek, what with all the violence we’ve heard about here in Chicago. But to my surprise, do I find the folks who greet me to be very kind. And the motorists at the intersections (and there are a bunch today) show me patience and courtesy! Remember my little test for determining what sort of town I’m in–kind and helpful folks, or not so much? Yup, the debit card/cash advance request at the local bank. Ah, first bank I go into–Bingo; this town passes with flying colors!
Late afternoon I arrive at Del Rhea’s Chicken Basket. Here I’ve got my miles in for this first day. And I wanted to end the day here. Since reading about Del Rhea’s, the interesting story of how the old fellow who started the place back near the turn of last century got the recipe for his fried chicken from a couple of local farm ladies–since then, I’ve wanted to try Del’s chicken basket.
Del’s is another place that’s been run by the same family since the days of old Route 66. Inside, I meet Rene. When I tell him I’m hiking Route 66 and would like to meet the folks that own the place, he goes right to the phone to call Patrick, son of Del Rhea, who bought the business way back in 1963. We spend an enjoyable time talking about Route 66–and Del Rhea’s.
Patrick (and Rene) then insist on not only giving me their famous chicken basket, but they want to provide me a room for the night right across at the La Quinta. Can say thank you but only so many times. So, thank you, dear new friends!
Handled the 18+- today, no problem. I do believe my legs are going to come back under me–one more time. What an absolute blessing!
Back to Top
Friday–July 28, 2017
Trail Day–002 Maps 5-10
Trail Mile–23.2/0040.7
Location–Joliet, then on south to Sugar Creek at Nowell Park, SR-53
A really nice room at La Quinta, last night. Got the road grime off me and out of my clothes–and slept soundly. Patrick at Del Rhea’s Chicken Basket, thanks for your kindness and generosity!
I wanted to get up early and on the road before seven. Plan’s working. La Quinta has a fine continental breakfast; I hit that first thing, then I’m out and trekking just after six-thirty. I want to get to Joliet in time to visit the Route 66 Museum there, so this is going to be a head-down-and-hammer kind of day today, likely the first of many to come during this adventure.
Steady at it all morning, time for a short stop at (the third) McDonald’s. Then I’m right back out. Don’t recall ever trekking such an extended period of time on little other than sidewalk–all day yesterday, and almost till noon again today. I’m so relieved to finally have the sprawl that is Chicago in my rear view.
On the road now, after Bolingbrook, comes the first of four scary situations–getting past limited access four-lane. They’re all dark underpasses. The first one required working along a narrow, elevated concrete ledge with sixteen-wheelers flying by less than four feet away. Scary? Oh yes!
By two-thirty I’m in Joliet. Here I’m presented the first photo op for the day, the neat little Route 66 ice cream stand–complete with the (‘true-to-life) Blues Brothers sitting on top. On into town, now at the museum, I’m welcomed by Cooper, bright-eyed young fellow at the reception desk. He greets me with, “You Nimble? A lady from the newspaper wants to talk to you.” The lower floor of the museum is dedicated entirely to Route 66. Before I’m much into it, comes Patricia from the Joliet Farmers Weekly. A really fun interview; thanks, Pat!
I’m unable to find a nearby motel for the night. The nearest according to Google is close to two miles away. After the 23-miler today, I don’t have two more miles in me. There’s an old hotel downtown, but the grouch there wouldn’t rent me a room. Took one look at me as soon as I entered the place. “We’re full.” He grumbles. I tell him I don’t need a bed, no towel, anything, just a place to stay for the night. “I told you, we’re full.” Nasty stare.
I head south on old Route 66 through town. Stop at a Shell station jiffy–for a couple burritos and a giant fountain drink.
Evening now, sitting a picnic table in Nowell park just south of town, I’m composing today’s journal entry, waiting for sunset before pitching beside clear-rushing Sugar Creek.
Been a good day, a safe day. Thank you, Lord…
Saturday–July 29, 2017
Trail Day–003 Maps 11-13
Trail Mile–21.1/0061.8
Location–Braidwood
Been a long time since I spent a night in my tent. That was way back last summer while completing my Pony Express National Historic Trail trek. Ha, this is going to sound strange, but anyway: It was good to be back on the ground again. A most pleasant night.
Camp struck, pack loaded and shouldered, I’m back on the road before six-thirty. Going to be another fine day weather-wise, cool with a gentle breeze to my back. I’d been fearful of being dealt extremely high temperatures and humidity, but as luck would have it (more a blessing), these first three days have been near ideal for trekking the highway.
Really moving along this morning (no kinks in the old jitney). I’m in Elwood for breakfast before ten.
First photo op of the day, nothing to do with Route 66, but I had to check it out, take it in: Midewin National Tall Grass Prairie. At the visitor center I learn that long before this area was settled, before Route 66 came through, the region all around was tall grass prairie, buffalo country. Today, it makes up a good bit of the “Breadbasket of America.” Only a very small percentage of the original tall grass prairie remains. The effort here is to restore a small sample from that time–including the grazing buffalo.
I’ve three Route 66 points of interest today, Gemini Giant, Sinclair Dino, and to end the day, the Polka Dot Diner. For this old fellow, much nostalgia. Neat stops for sure!
Added another old beat up penny to my coin collection this afternoon, the fifth or sixth so far this journey. Will likely have to bring on another quart Mason jar, the third. On the “Hiker Trash” page here, you can take a look at the countless coins I’ve picked up these many years.
Never could quite figure out how all the coins ended up scattered along the road shoulder–or for that matter, all the silverware too. My twelve place “flatware” silver service set is also pictured on the “Hiker Trash” page.
Today though, I come up on something totally strange and baffling–a broken egg laying on the shoulder. As I stare down at it, I realize it couldn’t have been thrown from a car window. It would have exploded and scattered everywhere. No, what had to happen–someone stopped, then dropped it on the pavement. The pieces of shell are all here. Also, the stain spot from the yolk–right there by the egg shell. Can you explain this? Weird, eh!
Managed a 21-mile day to Braidwood. Jesse James (yes, that’s his name), manager of the McDonald’s here provided me supper. And I’m invited back over for breakfast in the morning. They open at five, so I’ll be back before heading on to Odell, a 24-miler tomorrow. Dharam, owner of Braidwood Motel pretty much gave me a room for tonight. So, I’m clean and my clothes are (reasonably) clean too.
Another fine day trekking old Route 66!
Back to Top
Sunday–July 30, 2017
Trail Day–004 Maps 13-17
Trail Mile–24.0/0085.8
Location–Odell
I get a great jump-start this morning. Jesse James (his sweet mother gave him that name), Gen. Manager, McDonald’s, Braidwood, who never robbed anybody (can’t make this stuff up, folks), provided me supper last–and breakfast this morning.Thanks for your kindness and hospitality, Jesse! Braidwood is a mighty fine little village.
It was the wrong time of day yesterday to take pictures of the Polk-a-Dot Drive-In. Light’s much better this morning. Time to try again. And I hadn’t seen the Blues Brothers singing and dancing by the south side of the building. So, had to snap them too.
It’s gonna be another glorious day for trekking old Historic Route 66 (diagonally) across Illinois, cool, the least breeze at my back. Odell, here I come!
Between Braceville and Gardner, at the Mazon River, was the site of the Riviera Roadhouse. It was famous for being one of Al Capone’s favorite hangouts. But alas, it burned to the ground in 2010. At the site now, I look for any remains of the old place, but sadly there are none. All that’s left is the steel-pipe sign post by the road. There had been an old 1932 horse-drawn streetcar (turned-diner) here. It survived the fire and has since been moved to Gardner.
In Gardner, I follow the Route 66 signs to the site of the 1906 two-cell jail, and the old diner. Photo time!
Just south of Gardner, I-55 comes to crowd along beside old Route 66. I’ll have to deal with this deafening racket off and on the rest of this day.
Continuing on southwest on the old highway, the next village is Dwight. On the northeast side of town is (what remains of) Big Al’s Hot Dog Stand. All that’s left now is the little white block building. Fellow who lives across the street assures me it was Big Al’s. “Closed down years ago.” he said.
On across town is the old Ambler/Becker/Texaco/Marathon Station. Though no longer a gas station, it remains open as the Dwight Welcome Center. Everything’s been pretty much left as was when the gas station closed down. I believe you could still get an oil change and a grease job here–but no gas.
Treasures discovered along the road shoulder today: I’m eighteen cents richer–a dime, a nickel, and three pennies. And two things I’ve never seen before in all my travels, a birdcage, and from right out of A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh books, three little stuffed animals–Winnie, Eeyore, and Piglet. I leave the birdcage, but just can’t bring myself to leaving Pooh and his buddies behind.
Entering Odell, my destination for today, I’m greeted by a row of Burma-Shave-like signs. Neat welcome to Odell. Look at the pics!
Hiking down West Street, fellow comes from his porch to greet me. “You on a hike?” he asks–and I meet Joe and his granddaughter, Hana. Asking Joe if the local bar (locals call it a tap room) serves food, whether it’s open or not, Joe will have none of this. “Come in, I’ll fix you something to eat.” says Joe.
Short of it:
Joe, Hana, and Joe’s wife, Kathy, fix me a fine supper, topped off with moose-tracks ice cream! I’m then offered the use of their shower, followed by a most enjoyable evening of conversation.
I’m in their finished basement now (bed all made up for me) completing this day’s journal entry.
Amazing, eh friends! A bum off the street, total stranger, and these trusting folks befriend me and take me in. What a remarkable journey this is already becoming. I give Winnie, Eeyore and Piglet to Hana, a wonderful new home for the castaways…
Monday–July 31, 2017
Trail Day–005 Maps 17-20
Trail Mile–23.1/0108.9
Location–Chenoa
Contented, restful sleep at Joe’s. My energy has returned this morning. And it becomes even better after Kathy serves me a full breakfast.
Hana and Kathy have given me permission to post their art work. Hana’s painting of a horse is on the basement wall. And the idyllic cabin on the lake painted by Kathy, it adorns the entire kitchen wall. They have such a lovely home.
This is Monday, a workday for both Joe and Kathy. So, too soon comes that sad time, goodbye Kathy, goodbye Hana, goodbye Joe, I’ll not forget your kindness.
The old 1932 Standard Oil Station is right down the street from Joe’s, on old Route 66. Perfect light on it this morning. Get a couple of good pics.
Hopefully, it won’t be quite so hot today. Turning cloudy, maybe it’ll last. Had to retreat under a bridge yesterday afternoon to escape the heat. Leaning back against the cool abutment I promptly fell asleep. An hour passed before I managed to get back out on the road.
I’ve been offered rides the past two days–more already this morning before I reach Pontiac. Really thankful for the two bottles of ice given to me by Kathy. What a treat having ice cold water out here in this heat. I put them both down as soon as the ice melts. Wow, thanks, Kathy!
On the corner near the turn into Pontiac sits the Log Cabin Inn. Inside, I meet Lucy sipping her morning coffee from a Log Cabin mug. Enjoyable time talking about the place during the bygone days.
In Pontiac, I take time to visit both the Illinois Route 66 Museum and the Pontiac Auto Museum. Also get a picture of Lincoln in front of the court house. Could have easily spent the rest of the day here in Pontiac.
South of Pontiac, I-55 keeps its distance for a change. Joy upon joy! So, I don’t have exhaust fumes and the constant rumbling hell to endure. Happy for this relief for awhile, for sure.
Most of this day is spent hiking the old abandoned road, expansion joints heaved up, weeds growing from all the cracks. A real treat, this relief from traffic–and a brief retreat back in time.
The energy bar Hana gave me boosts me the final three miles into Chenoa, the McDonald’s by the interstate. I text Joe and let him know I made the 23-miler okay. Ha, and Joe tells his friend, Billie Jo, who lives in Chenoa–and she’s right over here to bring me supper and cold drinks. Thanks again, Joe, and thanks Billy Jo!
I found a little place behind McDonald’s where I can stealth camp for the night. Getting dark, so heading there now, to enjoy the food Billie Joe so kindly brought.
Five days out of downtown Chicago now; passed the 100 miles mark today. Already a third of the way through Illinois…
Back to Top
Tuesday–August 1, 2017
Trail Day–006 Maps 20-23
Trail Mile–22.4/0131.3
Location–Normal
A very nice (mowed) spot across (and secluded) from McDonald’s. The enormous container of hot lasagna, toasted buns, ice cold pop and water Billie Jo brought me transformed my little tent into a first class diner. Tummy full, contented–no time I’m off to dreamland.
A moment to pause here, to ponder the wonder and beauty of the daily joy we each give/receive through our interaction with others. Seems, we tend to dwell way too much on the negative aspects of our lives. I used to be guilty of that, more than anyone I guess. Fact is, if we open our hearts and minds to all the goodness we’re daily dealt, the negative things we occupy our thoughts with are such a small part. We’re definitely short-changing ourselves by not focusing on all the good.
Well, suddenly dawned on me this morning the beautiful people that have so quickly come and gone in my life just these past few days, the joy, the happiness, the incredible (mysterious, invisible-but-real) energy each person has, in their own way, given. This certainly has much to do with their kindness and generosity, but of equal importance is how I’ve changed, by thinking, being and living positive, I’m now ready, heart and mind, for this shower of blessings.
For a good part of this day, I’ll be able to walk along the old abandoned Route 66 pavement. In fact, through Chenoa (and a number if other communities to the south) the old roadbed has been improved and upgraded to a bike path. I’m hardly out and moving–comes more thoughtful kindness first thing. Billie Jo stops on her way to work to hand me a McDonald’s bag full of breakfast. Thanks, Billie Jo!
On down the old pavement, not long, a little motor home pulls to the shoulder and stops. I meet Paul and Geri from Queensland Australia. They’re touring all over the states. Much good conversation, about all the places they’ve seen, and now, Route 66!
Much positive spirit and energy in the little community of Towanda. The improvements to the old road, to upgrade it to a first class bike path–just a beautiful thing. First rainstorm I have to deal with hits me here in Towanda. Luck would have it, I’m right by the Freedom jiffy and duck right in. Kind clerk lets me rearrange the beer cases to make a place to sit. Hard rain for better part of half an hour.
On down the neat bike path, Kicks Bar and Grill is into this Route 66 thing. Much interest ’bout my hiking the old highway. Bar maid sets me up with a tall iced-down Mist, her compliments.
Second storm of the day, I’m not so lucky. Crack, bam, lightning and thunder simultaneously right in the nearest cornfield. No place to hide. Poncho is on, but the wind driven rain soaks me.
In Normal now, I stop to see the fine restoration of the 1931 Sprague Super Service. A professional piece of work. Photo op, oh yes!
There’s a McDonald’s on north US-51. That’s where I’m headed to end this day. Arriving, I find there’s no place to stealth camp anywhere, solid houses and businesses, the university. In and enjoying my usual chicken sandwich and fries, I Google “Nearby Motels.” Nothing close except–Vrooman Mansion B&B pops up. It’s a couple-three miles on down in the right direction. What the heck, give them a call. Ha, way, way priced out of my range. But Tricia shows interest in my story. I mention to her the most I could possibly pay. “Hold on a minute.” she says. Back on, disappointment in her voice. “I’m not able to accept that, but you can come and take a shower, and stay on our back porch for the night, no charge.”
Oh yes, Vrooman Mansion tonight. It’s dark when I arrive. Tricia greets me at their front door, then shows me to one of their showers. Incredible old place, creaky floors, twelve-foot-high ceilings, priceless antique furnishings, the works.
On the back porch laying out my bedroll now. Long, hard 25-miler (last three to the Mansion), but I’m pleased with the day and very thankful.
Back to Top
Wednesday–August 2, 2017
Trail Day–007 Maps 20-26
Trail Mile–18.0/0149.3
Location–McLean
It was dark and way too late last night to get any pictures of the old mansion. This morning, though, after Sarah sits me down for a energy packed full breakfast, compliments of the kind Vrooman Mansion folks, I’m permitted to roam the old p(a)lace. An incredibly spacious and luxurious home. Many pictures inside, also of the grounds, which include a carriage house, and the original dwelling–before the mansion was built (1869). There’s a marker where a stately old oak once stood. It was called the Lincoln Oak. Both Lincoln and Douglas spoke here. The old mansion has hosted the likes of Woodrow Wilson, and Eleanor Roosevelt. Eleanor and Julia (Carl Vrooman’s wife) were close friends. Adlai Stevenson was Julia’s uncle. Julia had ancestral connections to Thomas Jefferson. She authored the book The High Road to Honor (1924), a very popular book at the time. Amazing history surrounding this old mansion and the lives of Carl and Julia Vrooman; a fascinating story. Thanks Tricia and Sarah, for your kindness and generosity!
Another fine Route 66 Museum downtown Bloomington. It opens at nine, and I’m right there. I treat myself to a Route 66 orange soda, and take the tour. Folks that put these museums together, which feature the old highway here in Illinois, really know their stuff. Another very interesting one with lots to see!
Heading out of town I get confused. My DeLorme software (12 years old) is so outdated. So too, my maps. Lots of new roads built (say modern alignments) in the past 12 years. I finally get back on Historic Route 66, but not before having to run across both southbound lanes of I-55 and climb the fence!
I’m no sooner out of town, following the old highway than here comes the railroad from one side, and I-55 from the other. Going to be another day of unmerciful rumble and racket. And so it is, all the way down to Funk’s Grove. More offers to ride again today from kind locals.
At their little store, I’m greeted by Debbie, wife of Mike Funk. Mike is the 5th generation–same family to run Funk’s Grove since 1824. Debbie provides me bottles of ice cold water, and a ziplock of her homemade sugar maple candy. Chugging the water, I manage to cool down. And the candy boosts me on down to McLean. With I-55 slap against old Route 66, I can see the exit signs for McLean. The “Food” sign shows there’s a McDonald’s in McLean. Whoo-Hoo; I head on down and right in!
Ah, and across from this McDonald’s there’s a fine spot to stealth camp for tonight–I’m home!
A week behind me, plus half of Illinois. Legs are back under me; I’m strong and of good spirit. True blessings…
Back to Top
Thursday–August 3, 2017
Trail Day–008 Maps 26-28
Trail Mile–16.8/0166.1
Location–Lincoln
Great stealth site for last night’s camp, right across from McDonald’s! I’m back over first thing this morning for my coffee fix, compliments of the kind McDonald’s folks.
Another day of dealing with the rumble and roar, as the old highway continues to be hemmed in on both sides, trains on one, semis the other.
Plenty of history on the old road today. In McLean, a marker for the old Dixie Truckers Home, the oldest truck-stop in Illinois (1928).
Out of McLean, there’s a sign I’m able to see on I-55 (just across the fence) “Tall Grass Restoration Area next 101 Miles.” Sets me to wondering, is field corn considered a member of the tall grass family? Corn, that’s it, every direction for miles around. No room left for grass anywhere I can see!
Next town on down, Atlanta. A big booster community for the old highway. The Palms Grill Cafe, the giant “Tall Paul” hotdog man (a cross between Paul Bunion and the Muffler Man), the Atlanta Museum (housed in a beautifully restored 1867 downtown building), and the grand clock tower and library.
Not quite time for downtown Atlanta to open, but the museum door is unlocked, so in I go–to meet Peggy, museum docent–then Bill, Chairman of the national “Route 66 the Road Ahead Partnership.”
A trip to the post office and by the time I get back, the Palms is open. A remarkable restoration, right out of the Route 66 era. Time for breakfast. Sheila serves me a fine tank-stoker–provided by the kind folks (at the cafe and museum) here in Atlanta. Thanks, kind friends! The morning klatch is gathering; Shirley, John, and Glen. Good conversation, much help with local places of interest.
Peggy then gives me the tour of the museum. First, a picture of her standing by a wall map of the U.S, loaded with marking pins, at least one for every state. And on the opposite wall, a map of the world. Lots more pins. A remarkable number from Britain, Australia, and New Zealand. Amazing, the international interest in our “Mother Road.”
A room upstairs is devoted to Lincoln. Here in Atlanta, Lincoln prepared for his debate with Douglas. Here, too, mementos of the sadness and sorrow surrounding his assassination. Two original Memorial/Mourning Ribbons (1865) are on display. Lincoln’s funeral train passed through Atlanta. The nearly 1,700-mile epic journey the funeral train made was the biggest single event to happen in the lives of American citizens at the time. Just south of Lincoln, comes riding up behind me three fellows from China (yes, China)–Haoli, Shuifa Ji, and Yufei Zhang. They’re here to do Route
66 on their bicycles–in 29 days. They present me with a gift of China Incense, a necklace of symbolic interwoven flowers representing good luck. They then remount, and quickly disappear out of sight.
Another intense storm comes through this afternoon. And again, I’ve nowhere to retreat, to escape it’s fury. Just get my poncho on when it hits. I’m soaked in no time.
In Lincoln now, on the original alignment, I stop at the Postville Courthouse (rebuilt) where Lincoln practiced law from 1840 to 1847. Last stop in Lincoln, the Old Mill–renovated and now a museum. Here I meet Barb. It’s 4:00 and she’s fixing to close, but takes time to turn all the lights back on and give me the tour.
Bad storms are forecast again for tonight. So, just south of Lincoln, at the Salt Creek bridge I call it a day. If the storms come, I’ll stay dry up under the bridge, on the abutment.
Oh my, late evening now. Storms haven’t arrived yet, but the mosquitoes have…
Back to Top
Friday–August 4, 2017
Trail Day–009 Maps 29-31
Trail Mile–21.5/0187.6
Location–Sherman
Camping under the Salt Creek Bridge brought back memories of Odysseys 1998 and 2000-01, my hike down through the Florida Keys to Key West, when I camped a number of nights under the many bridges–with the traffic slamming the pavement right above my head. You’d think there’d be no way to sleep with such vibration and racket, but it quickly fades from my conscience. Save for dealing with the mosquitoes and having to reinflate my sleeping pad numerous times (it leaks and I can’t get it fixed), I slept well.
A very chilly morning greets me. Must don my wind jacket to keep warm; not comfortable taking it off until I reached Elkhart, a little before ten.
In Elkhart, another little community that prides itself on being the “Main Street of America.” Not a great number of businesses here (the Under the Prairie Museum is closed, permanently). I’m headed for the Wild Hare Cafe (+Antiques and Gifts). Went all day yesterday on the breakfast provided by the kind folks in Atlanta, and the hot dogs given me by the bikers from China, so I’m really hungry this morning. They’re open right at ten. I meet the owners, Peter and Andrea. When I tell Peter I could go for some coffee–and breakfast, he suggests eggs, bacon, and (sourdough) toast. Oh yes, fine choice! Andrea gets everything up and running for the day (it’s a large business with an incredible inventory). If I really started looking at everything, trying to pick out a gift for a friend, I could be here all day! She then takes time to come and visit with me. There’s much interest in my hike. Soon, the whole crew comes over–picture time! Thanks, Laura, Brandi, Tina, Peter and Andrea!
I’d planned on taking a break in the new Williamsville Library, but it’s closed Fridays. No problem. There’s a Loves Truck Plaza, complete with a McDonald’s across I-55, right on my way. They’re open Fridays! Need to spend some time writing. Got behind yesterday because of the storm–had no signal under the bridge.
It’s evening by the time I reach Sherman, my destination for today. A stop at Walgreen’s for some “Vitanin I” (ibuprofen), then it’s on down the road, looking for a place for supper. There’s a Fairlane Diner (Drive-In) right across, famous for the “Horseshoe.” It’s Friday evening, cruisin’ night, and their whole parking lot is full of beautiful (Route 66 era) cars. Oh yes, over I go! On the lawn out front now, I hear someone call “Eb, Eb, is that you?” I look up to see a lady motioning to me. “You’re the fellow hiking Route 66, aren’t you?” she asks. Dang, Bosephus, we definitely gotta get us some bigger shades!
There’s a bunch of folks sitting an outside table. They’ve got Route 66 T-shirts on. I quickly find out they’re “Roadies,” Route 66 devotees and travelers. Penny, the lady who called out to me found out about my trek through friends on FaceBook, and has been keeping up through my daily journal entries.
She insists on buying supper for me. My refusing doesn’t work–once, twice, three times. In we go. When Penny tells the lady taking my order about my walk down Route 66–Ha, she wouldn’t let Penny pay. “Your order’s on us!”
Much wonderful conversation. And before I prepare to go, comes another of their friends, Cheryl, the “Route 66 Chick.” She’s an accomplished speaker (topic–Route 66) and author. Click the hot link to view her really neat page, to read about her love of the old road (and see her books). All dear new “Roadie” friends, Penny, Katrina, Rob, Gary, Stephanie, and Cheryl, thank you–incredible energy!
Near sunset now, I make tracks for Carpenter Park, where there’s an old segment of concrete pavement with curbs. I arrive just at sunset. The old roadbed is barricaded but I can go around–to find it’s been totally abandoned, overgrown with tree limbs and other clutter blocking the way. The old curb, both sides, they’re covered with years of fallen leaves and brush. I work my way down, approximately an eighth of a mile, to where it ends at the Sangamon River. The old bridge abutments remain, but the bridge is gone. I pitch for the night at the end of the pavement.
Another joy-filled, rewarding day trekking Historic Route 66…
Back to Top
Saturday–August 5, 2017
Trail Day–010 Maps 31-33
Trail Mile–08.3/0195.9
Location–Springfield
By the time I reached the Sagamon River last night and pitched camp it was too dark to get a good picture–and I wanted a shot of my tent set right by the old curbed roadbed. Ah, but this morning, just incredible light as the sunrise brightened the very spot where I’d pitched. A couple fine shots to show you now!
I’ve an intentionally short day today as I’ve planned to take time to see as much of Springfield as possible. And I’ll try to curtail my usual long-windedness. There’ll be lots to read, the photos I’ll be taking. If you’re not interested in a rehash of all this history, primarily as to do with Abraham Lincoln, just skip on through.
And why so much interest and concentration on the life and times of Lincoln? Well, a few years ago I received the most kind email from a family that was home-schooling their children. They told me they often used my site for lessons–on American history, geography, and even social studies–and they wanted to thank me. They told me they had a number of friends that were also home-schooling, and through those friends, many more. So, when the opportunity presents, as it certainly will today, there’ll be pictures with informative narrative. Bear with me!
Needing my morning coffee fix (and I’m hungry), along comes Jungle Jim’s Cafe. Parking lot is full; the place is jumping. Doesn’t take long to see why; fast service, great food.
My tank full, I move on toward Springfield. To get to the cemetery where Lincoln is buried, closest way for me is by the back gate. Down the third or fourth residential 
street, I get confused. A couple out early walking their dog stop to direct me–and to chat. Thanks, Rich and Debbie, for your help!
I arrive Oak Ridge Cemetery at what was once the main entrance (through which Lincoln’s casket was carried), now a walkway entrance. First is the tomb of his temporary internment, then on a hill, up many steps, his grave.
Lincoln’s Tomb is the most remarkable of any such monument work I’ve ever seen, just magnificent! I spend much time here, both in the tomb (yes, a door leads into the tomb) and out, reading and photographing. As I exit the tomb, here to greet me, Rich and Debbie, the folks who directed me earlier. They came to make sure I found the way. Oh my, and they offer to take me to lunch this afternoon, down to the Cozy Dog Drive-In. I’ll call them later, and we’ll go, oh yes!
I’ve a half-hour walk downtown to the Lincoln Library. The way I’ve chosen passes through an old, old section of Springfield, some dwellings dating to the times of Lincoln. Modest but lovingly-kept homes. A most pleasant walk.
The Lincoln Library? For me, a disappointment. I had expected a small building of older architectural design. I’d visualized the inside being a setting more in keeping with what we’ve all learned about Lincoln–during his younger years. But alas, the building looks more like a hospital–inside and out. Yes, a disappointment for sure.
From the library, it’s a short walk to the capitol. The Illinois capitol is a massive, most impressive structure. The dome is magnificent, the rotunda, just takes my breath away. For all the capitol buildings I’ve passed during my treks, this one ranks right up there for pure stature and beauty–right below Missouri, of course.
From the capitol it’s a short distance to the Governor’s Mansion. I arrive to find it barricaded all around, and boarded up. What I can see of it–really deteriorated.
Late afternoon, as I head south out of town I give Rich and Debbie a call. They come get me and off to Cozy Dog Drive-In we go. More pictures. The place is a Route 66 icon, been in the Waldmire family for decades. And the cozy dogs are good!
Late evening now, Rich and Debbie return me to where they’d picked me up. I get their picture, then it’s farewell time. I’m never prepared for this. How is it possible to know a couple for such an incredibly short time, and feel sad on parting? Don’t know, I just don’t know.
It’s late, late evening now. I’ve hiked on to the Interurban Trail. Had to negotiate a chain link fence to reach it. Easy for you, not so easy for me.
A mile down the trail toward Chatham I find a campsite by a canal and call it a day.
200 miles of Illinois in my rearview, 100 to St. Louis.
Sunday–August 6, 2017
Trail Day–011 Maps 33-35
Trail Mile–23.4/0219.3
Location–Virden, then on to Girard
A wonderful hushed night, only a couple freight trains to break the silence. Checked the time and went right back to sleep.
Forecast is for rain this entire day, but for now (6:00 AM) the sky is totally overcast, no rain yet. Could turn to be the best hiking day yet, cloudy and cool.
This Interurban Trail is really nice, a welcome break from the road, from all the noise and confusion. But it ends too soon. I’m right back on the road at Chatham, busy SR-4.
Another Historic Route 66 feature–just one today, but it’s mighty impressive, the 1931 section of brick road just south of Irwin’s Park that runs for better than a mile. It’s totally intact, as if just built. Photo time for sure!
Yesterday I received a private message in my guestbook from Em. He’s with News
Channel 20 WICS, ABC Springfield/FOX Illinois. Somehow he’d found out I was coming into Springfield, and he wanted to interview me. I get back with him this morning, and in no time Andrew, photographer for WICS, tracks me down. A fun time answering questions, as the traffic continues flying by.
Link to video/article here: http://newschannel20.com/news/local/78-year-old-man-treks-historic-route-66-by-foot-08-07-2017
There’s NO steady rain all day, as was forecast, but there’s sure enough steady traffic all day. Seems, everybody is either heading for Springfield, or returning. Managing to keep out of harms way, by three I’ve hiked down what’s left of the 23 miles for today.
In Virden now, no McDonald’s, I decide to hit Hardee’s. I need to charge my phone and complete this journal entry. I’ve seldom frequented Hardee’s, but to my surprise, this place is really nice! Great menu, competitive prices. I go for a small fountain drink and tell the girl at the register that I’ll order something to eat later–and can I charge my phone?
Half hour goes by; here comes the hostess. Looks like I’m gonna get booted. But no, I meet Ashley. With a bright, wide smile she asks, “Would you like a free cheeseburger?” Well now, how far off was I on judging this one! “Sure, that’d be great.” I tell her. Few minutes, here she comes with a burger basket, containing a burger–and fries! “Need catsup or anything.” The bright, wide smile continues. A short time later, she returns with two hot apple tarts.
Well, I came in here tired, and downing the burger and fries, plus the tarts did it. My head dropped to the table, into my crossed arms, and I fell into total sleep. Don’t know how long it lasted, but it was more than a few minutes. Awake now, here comes Angel, the assistant manager. This is it for sure now, I’m thinking–doubt they like people sleeping in here. Goodness, Angel also greets me with a wide, bright smile! “Took a little nap!” she says. “Here, I have something for you.” She hands me two big coupon cards–for free meals. “I think all the Hardee’s from here to Missouri will accept them.” I don’t know what to say. Finally, I manage to blurt out, “Thank you, thank you!”
What kind folks here at Hardee’s. Come to find, Angel’s mother, Sandy, has left greetings in my guestbook. Sandy, you have a wonderful daughter; I know you’re very proud of her!
If you’ve followed my recent odysseys, you’ll know I didn’t hike those treks alone, that my dear friend, Bart Smith and I hiked together. Bart was the first person to hike all 11 National Scenic Trails. So, he then began walking down our National Historic Trails–and we ended up hiking together on the trails of westward expansion, those National Historic Trails. During these treks, Bart became a dear friend.
Well, Bart’s wife, Bridgie, has a sister, Becky, who, with her husband, Andy, live nearby. Bridgie has contacted her. And…Becky has contacted me–and has offered to come for me tomorrow in Carlinville, then to take me to their home where I can bathe, wash my clothes, get a good meal (or two), plus a good nights sleep in a real bed. Oh yes, I’ll be getting back with Becky tomorrow!
Another amazing day, eh folks; another amazing day on Historic Route 66–for this tired old intrepid…
Back to Top
Monday–August 7, 2017
Trail Day–012 Maps 35-37
Trail Mile–19.1/0238.4
Location–Carlinville
By the cornfield next a hay bale, behind the local market–that worked fine for my camp last night, peaceful and quiet.
I’m out and moving by six-thirty, not as early as I’d liked, but I’m moving! Another overcast, cool day in the making.
A short hike to downtown Girard to see Deck’s Drug Store and Doc’s Soda Fountain (1884). They’re open Mondays, but not at six forty-five. I peer through the window, take a couple pictures, and move on.
Pure prairie country now, corn everywhere as I hike on down to Nilwood. There’s a piece of pavement somewhere south of Nilwood with turkey tracks in it–from when the concrete was freshly poured (back in 1926). I flag down a local and he gives me direction.
On the south side of town I stop at “The Fork on the Road.” It’s a little portable lunch wagon set up and run by Bonnie. She’s not open yet but is here and comes to greet me. No effort at all talking her into making me a sandwich. Right away she’s fixed me a tenderloin sandwich and a bowl of vegetables (freshly picked from her sister’s garden). When I tell her the funny one-liner by Yogi Berra, “When you come to a fork IN the road, take it,” I think I convince her to make a small change to the name of her establishment. 
Bonnie won’t accept payment for the sandwich–then sends me off with a ziplock of fruit. Thanks for your generosity and kindness, Bonnie!
A ways on down, I come to the older alignment (1926-1930). Turning here
leads me to where I expected to find the tracks, but no luck. But luck would have it, a local comes by. I flag him down–to meet Gary. “Up by that farm house, the tracks are there.” he tells me. Sure glad Gary happened by; I was ready to give up and head back to the main highway.
Right away I see why these tracks are such a big deal. This old concrete road is 90 years old, and here these turkey tracks are, clear as can be, like it all happened yesterday!
A neat old farm house, everything in place, yard mowed, hedges trimmed. An old fellow sitting on the back porch. We exchange greetings; I meet Ron. “Folks found out about the turkey tracks, maybe ten years ago. Ever since, five, ten at a time on motorcycles, they stop, buses full, campers, bicyclists, everybody wants to see the turkey tracks. You’re the first one come walking through.” Rob tells me how to get back to the highway. “You’ll see other tracks on up there; folks don’t know about them.”
I’m no sooner back on the highway than this car pulls off across. Oh
my, it’s Angel, the kind assistant manager from Hardee’s. She’s come out to find me, to tell me she saw me on the news, and to wish me well. Moments later another car stops. “Can we get a picture with you?” I meet Jessica and her daughter, Emily. They found out about my journey on FaceBook and have been following my daily journal entries.
Link to article/video here: http://newschannel20.com/news/local/78-year-old-man-treks-historic-route-66-by-foot-08-07-2017
Sky’s turning really dark. Now comes the rain, a few drops to start, then before I get my poncho out, the sky opens. I trudge into it. By the time I reach Carlinville it lets up, but I’m soaked. Then another vehicle stops. It’s Dick with Carlinville Tourism. He wants to buy me lunch at Hardee’s. To Hardee’s I go! Here, I wait for Andy, who’s coming from Nokomis to pick me up and take me to his place for the night. Andy soon arrives and we’re off to Nokomis.
First thing this morning, motorists started honking and waving. It went on all day. Come to find, my interview with the Springfield TV station not only aired on the news yesterday evening, but also this morning. Another action packed day!
Tuesday–August 8, 2017
Trail Day–013 Maps 37-39
Trail Mile–21.6/0260.0
Location–Staunton
Andy and Becky have a lovely home. It’s out on the magnificent Illinois prairie a ways from Nocomis, gentle rolling countryside, lush corn and soybean fields all around.
It was a fair distance for Andy to come for me yesterday (Becky stayed home planning and preparing a grand supper for us), so it was late evening by the time we got back to their home. I was greeted by Becky, and soon by their daughter, Ashley, and granddaughter, Gabby. They all gave me a big hug, though I smelled disgusting, like a week-old dead buffalo. Such a pleasure taking a shower, getting myself clean again. Can’t remember the last time I was as filthy. Don’t know how Andy manage to stand me on the drive back!
This morning, before Andy, Becky, and Gabby return me to Carlinville, I get the tour of their beautiful home, built by Andy and Becky, plus Andy’s shop (that he built, then added onto, and added onto again). Andy’s in the process of rodding an old pickup, a body-off-frame project. Much work, many modifications, lots of new parts, much customizing.
Back at Hardee’s in Carlinville, does inevitably come that sad time again–bidding farewell to these dear new friends. So long Andy, so long Becky, Ashley and Gabby. Oh, thanks, Gabby, for giving up your (pretty girl’s) room for me!
By the time I shoulder my pack and get to hiking, it’s close to noon. Going to be a head down and hammer kind of day, a near 22-miler to Staunton. I’ve got to keep moving if I’m going to reach Staunton before dark. Oh my, and this old SR-4, it’s not the least friendly, no shoulder to speak of, loose gravel, can’t walk in that. And the traffic is wicked and flying low; gonna be a long, long day. [Hey old man, you sure do whine a lot.]
A couple neat sections of the old 1926-1930 concrete pavement today, all beat down, busted, and abandoned. Sign says “Road Ends.” Ah, but yet, does the road not go on?
“The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
And now far ahead the road has gone
And I must follow it if I can.”
[J.R.R. Tolkien]
More rolling prairie, lush with grain, green with soybeans, picturesque countryside. Mid afternoon I reach Gillespie. Big concrete flower tub on the sidewalk, “Route 66 Los Angeles 1783 Miles.” Getting there, folks, getting there. Day after tomorrow I’ll put Illinois in my rearview.
Gillespie was a coal town in its heydays, the early 1900s. Coal was THE fuel needed to keep the huge, cumbersome locomotives rolling down the track.
Benld, typical little prairie town, named for Ben L. Dorsey, it was a jumpin’ town in its day, home to The Coliseum Ballroom. Standing here at the Route 66 marker now, rusty iron silhouette figures dancing and whirling before me, comes a local fellow. He sees me looking at the picture of the old Coliseum. “Burned to the ground awhile back, sad deal; really sad deal,” grim frown on his face. “Chuck Berry played there. He hired locals to accompany him, didn’t have his own band. Got a faded old black-n-white photo of some of my family who played in that band for Chuck.” Comes a pickup. “Here’s my ride; gotta go,” and he was gone, just like that. Never had a chance to get his name. Chuck Berry created “Rock-n-Roll.”
Back in the USA
“New York, Los Angeles, oh, how I yearned for you
Detroit, Chicago, Chattanooga, Baton Rouge
Let alone just to be at my home back in ol’ St. Lou
[Chuck Berry]
Late evening, sunset in fact, I finally arrive Staunton. A cool but grueling day on the tarmac. 12-15 vehicles a minute doesn’t sound like a lot. But that’s one every four to five seconds. I have no idea where all these folks were going but they were in one heck of a hurry. Lady came over the white line right at me. Don’t know what she was doing, but when she looked up and saw me, oh yeah, look of horror and fear on her face. I hit the ditch. She missed.
At Hardee’s (yes, Hardee’s is my go-to place now) I walk the street behind and down looking for a spot to stealth camp. Finding just the place by a little stream, turning to return to Hardee’s, stops this fellow. “Saw you on the road three different times, where you going?” I meet Mark. Works for the Illinois Highway Department. I give him the short version–“I’m headed for L.A. on 66.” Tell him I’m looking for a place to camp tonight. “You can stay at my house.” he says. Bam–not the least hesitation! My goodness, folks, I know you probably don’t believe this, but what I’m telling you here is true. The kindness of total strangers extended this old man, this odyssey, really unbelievable.
If you’ve read the entries in my Guestbook, then you’ve seen this one by Fred:
“What impresses me most, however, more than the descriptions of geography and history, are the stories of the people and this trip is turning out to be one of the best. The kind-hearted souls you meet, strangers helping a traveler for no reason other than the goodness of their being, represent the ‘real’ America, the one so many people claim no longer exists.”
Wow, you’ve capture the true spirit of this journey, Fred!
The question so oft’ ask concerning my comings and goings, these long journeys–the question, WHY? It’s the one question I so long didn’t want to hear, because I had no good answer. Finally, I distilled it down:
It’s the people
(notice how this starts)
It’s the people, the places,
The pain and the trials,
It’s the joy and the blessings
That come with the miles.
It’s a calling gone out to a fortunate few,
To wander the fringes of God’s hazy blue.
[Nimblewill]
Wednesday–August 9, 2017
Trail Day–014 Maps 39-42
Trail Mile–21.3/0281.3
Location–Bluff Junction (Edwardsville)
When Mark invited me to his home yesterday evening, he mentioned that he could use some company. It was good that I was able to be with him. Tough go of it recently for Mark. His daughter lost her infant child recently, then her mother passed away last Thursday.
I’ve got my first mail drop here in Staunton. The post office doesn’t open till nine, so I kill time at Hardee’s. Not back on the road until eleven.
Route 66 point of interest today is right down the road, Henry’s Ra66it Ranch. A real pleasure meeting Rich Henry. His place is a long-time fixture on old 66. Great conversation. Every job Rich ever held in his life, save one, has been on Route 66. Got his own place now.
“I hear motorcycles,” says Rich. Sure enough, here comes a whole touring group, perhaps 15 or 20 bikes. Rich welcomes them. Short time, I get to meet the “Wagonmaster,” Victor Muntane–and his son, Alvaro. They’re from Italy. In fact, the whole group is from Italy.
Victor has been out and back on Route 66, and out and back some more. Enough times to be an expert on the old road. In fact he’s written a guide book on Route 66, in Italian. To date he’s sold over 17,000 copies. Victor and his son are from Italy. The entire group is from Italy.
Rich gets busy ringing up 66 souvenir sales. Between customers, I bid him farewell and head on down the road. Not long, here they come, “Rolling Thunder.” I grab my camera and turn–just in time to catch Victor waving to me. Everyone is waving, horns honking, it’s a very special time for me as they all glide past. Soon, the rumble fades, and they are gone.
In awhile a Jeep pulls to the far shoulder and stops. A fellow and a lad cross the busy road to greet me. They’re Mike and Gehrig from Chicago, traveling Route 66. Rich, from Ra66it Ranch had asked them to stop and check on me. They give me an ice cold bottle of tea before returning to the road.
Late afternoon, I’m on a rail-trail bike path. A van has pulled off ahead and a woman is walking toward me. I recognize her right away. It’s Cheryl. I’d met her back at the Fairlane Drive-In with the group of “Roadies.” Then another vehicle stops, and another lady gets out. It’s Anne, a friend of Cheryl’s. If you recall, Cheryl is an author and lecturer–on Route 66. I’d linked to her site. Well, Anne is also an author, Route 66 children’s books. More great conversation. It’s getting late though, and I’ve miles to go yet to reach Edwardsville/Bluff Junction, so I bid Cheryl and Anne goodbye and continue on toward town.
In Edwardsville now, I’m both hungry and thirsty. Into the Stagger Inn Again Bar and Grill I go. Besides their usual burger menu, they are also serving a number of specials tonight. I choose the high octane one, spaghetti with meat sauce. Comes with a salad, too. Sure fills me up.
When I’d explained to Janet, my waitress, why the pack, she tells me she has a friend that’s on the Appalachian Trail. I give her one of my cards.
A group of folks from a running club have taken up the whole row of tables in the dining area. Janet must have told them about my adventure, for in a short while a fellow comes to my table. His name is Tim. He’s a mechanical engineer (and a runner). More, he’s a restless soul plagued with wanderlust. I didn’t help his situation, in fact, I made it worse. I told him to quit his job and hit the trail!
When I ask Janet for my check, she tells me there isn’t one. “Your supper’s on us.” Wow, thanks Stagger Inn Again.
I was stuck on SR-4 most of the day again. A bit more shoulder, and less traffic. Mild temperatures, a gentle breeze to my back–another fine one for the road…
Thursday–August 10, 2017
Trail Day–015 Maps 42-44
Trail Mile–18.3/0299.6
Location–Baden (St. Louis)
Spent the night last under a big oak tree at the American Legion Post 199 Golf Course. A quiet night.
I’ve a shorter than normal day today, across the Mississippi and into St. Louis. Another cool day; I’m so thankful for that.
A diversion this morning. There’s a rail trail that parallels old Route 66 for a few miles, so I decide to follow it. A good choice as it passes through a wooded area, with an overhead canopy nearly the entire distance. Along this way, folks out jogging this morning. Two of them stop to ask if I’m the hiker that’s going clear to California. Oh my, just big time energy to boost me along!
Coming off the rail trail, in a short while I see a sign for “[Ford] 
Mustang Corral on Route 66 since 1980.” I’ve a soft spot for these old classic Ford “Pony” cars. I head over. Hey, they’re open! Entering, I meet Shawn. When I tell him how many Mustangs I’ve owned over the years (bought and sold them as a hobby) he shows me his shop, the beautiful 1965 he’s just finished restoring for a customer. Professional work in every way–got some pics.
Back on the highway I pass an old faded-and-peeling Kaiser – Frazer sign. Wonder how many folks even know what they were?
At the intersection of SR-111 stands the old Bel-Aire Drive-In sign. The building is long gone, just a semi parking lot. But the sign looks pretty good yet, a letter or two missing, but it’s still standing.
A couple of big deals today. First, I put Illinois in my rear view a little before three. Nearly 300 miles hiked in 15 days. I’m happy with that.
Second, one of the most impressive landmarks of all–from the Route 66 heydays, the Chain of Rocks Bridge. This is my third time across it on foot. 2004 was the 200th anniversary of the outbound Lewis & Clark Expedition, 2006, the 200th anniversary of their return. In 2004 I had to climb a chain link fence to get on the bridge. It was all grown up with brush and vines, long abandoned. On my return hike in 2006, it had been repaired and opened as a hiking/biking trail. Both those Lewis & Clark Expedition crossings I got rained on. Ha, I’m no sooner in the center span today, yup, the sky opens again! Still manage to take a few good shots.
I’ve hiked to near downtown St. Louis this evening–to the McDonald’s on Broadway. Took time to look around before coming in. Found a stealth spot across the road, near the I-70 on ramp. Likely won’t be as serene tonight…
Friday–August 11, 2017
Trail Day–16 Maps 45-48
Trail Mile–16.0/0315.6
Location–Shrewsbury/Marlborough
In my entry yesterday I’d mentioned finding a stealth spot across from McDonald’s near the on ramp to I-70. Well, the off ramp is right there too. Didn’t know, but quickly found out that traffic exits to immediately hit the light at Broadway. The semis all have to jake-brake–and that machine gun racket continued all night. I woke up maybe three times, caused more by the rain coming in. Wouldn’t have believed it, but the semi racket really didn’t bother me!
Hit the St. Louis sidewalks late yesterday evening, and I’m right back on them again, heading on down Broadway this morning. I leave McDonald’s (after my burrito fix) in a steady drizzle. It’s a dismal, dreary morning. Fitting though for where I’m headed–the old industrial/commercial section of St. Louis. Rusting, fallen-down warehouses, mostly boarded up empty and abandoned industrial buildings. Barricades and chain link topped with barbed wire all along. This was a dynamic and thriving area of St. Louis during the good times of Route 66. But like that old road, those times have passed. As I trek on toward downtown, I take a few shots of the depressing gloom that presents along both sides of Broadway.
If you’ve looked at my maps, which show my route through St. Louis, you’ll notice I’ve deviated from it. I’ve decided to hike right into the jaws of the monster as I continue on Broadway right into downtown St. Louis. By this time, the drear has passed; the sky has brightened. I can see Gateway Arch now.
The Arch had an important place in two of my previous adventures, the beginning of one (Odyssey 2004), and the end of another (Odyssey 2006), so I’ll not pass there this journey.
Through the high walls of downtown St Louis (not as high as
the buildings of Chicago) I set my sights on the first point of Historic Route 66 interest, the Eat Rite Diner. I hit it just as the late breakfast crowd is leaving. I’ve the most enjoyable time talking to Frank, chief cook. I learn much history, about both the old diner, and its old owner, L.B.
L.B. and his wife, Dorcas, bought the old place in 1970. And indeed, it was old. Built sometime in the 1930, Eat Rite had already been an all-night diner for nearly 40 years. Both L.B. and Dorcas are in their 80s now, but still going. And though just a crackerbox, Eat Rite is still going too.
Two more Route 66 era establishments to take in today. The Donut Drive-In, and Ted Drewes. Both businesses continue to thrive. I get a plain donut to go at the Donut Drive-In, then at Drewes, their favorite frozen custard. Luck would have it, at Ted’s I get to meet Travis, a family member. Ted Drewes was established in 1941 and has remained in the family ever since.
Travis tells me about a couple-three motels on out along the old highway. I’m tired, need a bath. Chippewa Motel cuts me a hiker trash deal (the twenty-five buck rooms are gone forever), and I settle in. The place is one of the worst dives I’ve ever stayed in, but hey, they’ve got a tub, and hot water to soak my tired old bones…
Back to Top
Saturday–August 12, 2017
Trail Day–017 Maps 47-51
Trail Mile–21.9/0337.5
Location–Fox Creek
The owner of the Chippewa Motel put me in Room #1 last night, right out by the busy street. But even with the constant street racket, I slept okay. I was really tired.
Sure glad to get out and going this morning, away from the place–by far the filthiest room I’ve ever stayed in, and I’ve been in some real rat-traps.
Another grand day in the making, gentle breeze, temps in the low 80s. I had been very worried about extreme heat and high humidity coming out of Chicago, but I’ve had little difficulty. I’m passed Illinois now and working on Missouri–and every day that passes is a day closer to fall.
I’ve deviated a bit from Historic Route 66 today in order to pass by the Museum of Transport near Kirkwood. It’s filled with old steam locomotives of every size and description and I want to see them. As you’ll see, I’ve been captivated by these old “Iron Horses” since childhood. Take a moment and click on Mopac Railtrail 2005. It’ll take you to a neat internal page here. You’ll see a depiction of the old iron horse coming into the Russellville Station, a young lad on a bicycle (me), and a shadowy image of the old hiker (also me) with his hand on the lads shoulder. You can read all about my childhood (and adulthood) infatuation with trains on this page–and hear the old locomotive belching into the station.
Haven’t told you about how my financial well being has received such a grand boost (all the coins I’ve picked up) since shortly after coming out of Chicago. But gotta tell you about my find today: if you’ll enlarge the picture here, you’ll see a bunch of pennies laying in the cracks in the street. An absolute windfall–twenty pennies in all!
This has turned out to be a “stroll with the flowers” day. What a grand variety, such a radiant array of the brightest colors! Had to stop often–and just look.
Late evening and nearing the completion of this 20+ mile day I come up on an old Route 66 highway establishment, the Big Chief Roadhouse, established in 1929. Wasn’t aware of this icon, hadn’t read about it. And WOW, the place is jumpin’ tonight. I settle for an iced down Sprite from the bartenders mix gun.
The sun is setting as I take to the road again. A short distance, I find the perfect campsite in a public preserve.
Hammered the sidewalks again today, save for the last four miles. I think I’ve got the suburbs of the “Lou” finally behind me…
Back to Top
Sunday–August 13, 2017
Trail Day–018 Maps 51-52
Trail Mile–17.4/0354.9
Location–Twin Bridges
I’m awake early–and decide to go ahead and break camp and get moving. Jacket on to start with. Just fantastic weather so far. Hasn’t gotten above the low eighties this past week, and these conditions are forecast to continue.
I-55 has come back over to run along with Historic Route 66 again. Most exits, which are right next the old highway, have some sort of services. First one I come to this morning, a Phillips 66 complete with deli. Breakfast time–a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit, plus coffee. There’s a table and chairs, and a nearby outlet to recharge my phone. I linger better part of an hour.
Big sign for the Gardenway Motel. It’s right across the street from the jiffy, brush and tree limbs growing through it. The sign points down the road. I’m soon standing before what’s left of the place. Been closed awhile!
Next exit, I’m in luck again, a Burger King. It’s noon, so I head in for lunch. Wow, this Burger King is big-time into Route 66! They’ve gone all out; the walls are covered, totally decorated in nostalgic Route 66 era photos and other era related history. And why not? Burger King was founded in 1953, perfect timing to become part of the old highway history! Enlarge the black and white photo of the Burger King pictured here. The car you see is a 1953 Ford. No, it’s not my ’53, but it’s just like it! The photo I took of “The Nifty Fifties Fords”–the Ford just below center, also a ’53! Very, very few of them left anymore. Wish now that I’d kept mine.
If you’re my age, or near my age, you’ll remember the famous male actor in the early ’50s–James Dean. East of Eden, Rebel Without A Cause, Giant. That James Dean! A couple photos on the wall relate to him. I remember seeing pictures of the mangled ’55 Porsche he was driving when he rolled it and killed himself, but I’d never seen a copy of the speeding ticket he was given just before the wreck. You may not be the least interested in any of this–totally fascinating stuff to me, though! It’s all part of my nostalgic trek down this old road–my journey back in time.
On the highway now and a bit further down, the old Sunset Motel. Looks of it, the final sunset set on this place a long time ago.
Late afternoon I arrive at my destination for today, Twin Bridges. No twin bridges that I can see here. Just the US-50 exit, and a Harley Davidson dealership. A great location for Harley–an amazingly popular way to tour Route 66. Remember the group from Italy that I met at the Ra66it Ranch? They were all riding Harleys!
A few more miles and I pitch for the night, behind a Meramec Caverns billboard. Semis hitting the rumble strips should put me to sleep in no time…
Back to Top
Monday–August 14, 2017
Trail Day–019 Maps 53-55
Trail Mile–17.6/0372.5
Location–Twin Springs Hollow (Stanton), then on to Sullivan
Rain came in around three and lasted a couple of hours. I always have my tent fly rigged, so I needed only pull it dow
n over the front of my tent. Getting used to the constant, infernal interstate racket. Blocked it out and let the rain lull me back to sleep.
Neat campsite for last night, behind a (one of hundreds) Meramec Caverns billboard. A bit late getting out this morning. Wet tent is going to weigh me down a bit; and doesn’t appear I’ll be able to dry it out. No rain this morning, but total-solid overcast. Fine with me if it lasts all day. Temps can remain mild again, just great good fortune.
In a short while I come to an interesting looking place along the road–some wigwams, two of them wood framed and covered with roof shingles, and a third, made from traditional poles and canvas. I’m standing in the road taking pictures of the place when a woman emerges from the upper wigwam. I greet her with a wave. But instead of returning my greeting, she shouts at me, “Go on,” pointing down the road. Still pointing, she shout even louder, “GO ON!” Yes ma’am, oh yes ma’am! I quickly put my phone (camera) back in my pack, and hasten on down the road. What was that?
I-44 swaps sides with the old highway a couple times today. I’m now trekking the south frontage road. It takes me into Saint Clair–and the neat old Lewis Cafe. I arrive just in time for breakfast. The place is hopping, but I get waited on right away. A mighty establishment, courteous staff, good service, great food. They’ve sure got it figured out–after working it since 1938!
My destination for today is Twin Springs Hollow (Stanton). I’m in by noon. There’s a jiffy at the I-44 overpass. For services, that’s it. I go for one of their pipe-roller hotdogs and a sprite. Had to restack two beer cases for a place to sit. I’d been low on energy today for some reason, but it’s coming back. Plan now is to trek it on down to Sullivan. There’s a McDonald’s there.
Hitting the service road south, first thing is the Jesse James Museum. A small, nondescript building. I think they’re open, not sure. Not at all inviting. The toy museum right next is closed, permanently. And a short distance further, a shuttered motel. Appears, Meramec Caverns has sucked all the oxygen out of this interchange. Three miles south, the Caverns, there’s a motel, restaurant, boat trips, cave tours, everything! Who wants to stop here at this interchange when everything’s down at the Caverns?
I’d hiked four miles or so beyond my destination yesterday. That set me up for hiking it on down to Sullivan today. Got in here at six, around a 22-miler. Found a place to stealth camp behind McDonald’s–soon as it turns dark.
A dicey, dangerous day today. While I-44 cuts straight through, the old highway follows the rolling hills, up, down, around. No shoulder, constant blind curves and top-outs. Thankfully, traffic was light, motorist courteous.
Being here in Sullivan now sets me up for a fairly short day on down to Cuba tomorrow. I’ll be talking shortly with the owner of the famous (and beautifully restored) old Wagon Wheel Motel in Cuba. I’ll likely be staying there tomorrow night. Hope so, I sorely need a bath!
Tuesday–August 15, 2017
Trail Day–020 Maps 55-57
Trail Mile–17.0/0389.5
Location–Southwest of Bourbon, then on to Cuba
Not 200 yards from McDonald’s last night, a brushy fence line beside a cemetery, perfect stealth camp. I hit McDonald’s right at six for breakfast this morning. Scrambled eggs, sausage and hash browns, coffee of course. I’m fueled for this day.
Out of Sullivan, I-44 comes right back to join the old highway the six miles on down to Bourbon. I’d made a note on my map for the Circle Inn Malt Shop in Bourbon. It originally opened in 1955 and is now into the third generation ownership, same family. The place is open, so in I go–for a step or two back in time, for sure. Route 66 paintings adorn the walls, in frames, and actual murals on the walls.
I order a fountain drink, look around, take a few pictures, then drop my pack at one of the tables. Striking up a conversation with the lady next table over, I introduce myself. Her name is Erma. “Don’t miss the big mural in that room,” says Erma, pointing to the doorway past the end of the counter. “And there’s more in the bathroom.” I go check them out. Back sipping on my sprite, Erma says, “My husband painted all of them.” followed by, “The [expletive, six letter word, starts with “a”] died ten years ago. Been the best ten years of my life.” Then she tells me, “I was never allowed to talk to another man the whole time we were married–while that [same expletive] went out carousing every night.” I sat and listened in disbelief. Can’t make this stuff up folks! The paintings are nice.
After the early start this morning, plus having hiked part of today’s distance yesterday, being noon, decision is to trek it on down to Cuba. I’d like to get a room for the night there at the beautifully restored old Wagon Wheel Motel, then go for a good meal right next door at the Missouri Hick BBQ.
Also, Tracy, at the Cuba Free Press, contacted me awhile back expressing interest in interviewing me for their paper. So, on to Cuba I go. Making good time, I arrive midafternoon.
Ah, but sometimes the best plans just don’t work out. When I tell the motel owner that I’m walking Route 66, am on a limited budget (what with my hike taking till late November), she expresses not the least interest. That’s when I find out their nightly rates are half again more than I’m able to pay.
Things start looking up, though, when I let Tracy know I’d have to be moving on down the road. She wasn’t at all surprised to hear about my experience at the motel. In fact, she’d already checked with Super 8 out by the interstate and had made tentative arrangements to put me up for the night.
Sure glad I accepted her kindness and decided to hang around. Supper at Missouri Hick BBQ actually works out. I hike it back and meet Tracy and her husband, Joe, there. And, my goodness, Missouri Hick BBQ provides my supper!
Cuba is known for its beautiful murals depicting the town’s history–painted on the walls of a number of downtown buildings. So, after supper, Joe and Tracy load me up and give me the grand tour. I’m even introduced to a personal friend, Shelly, who’s up on scaffolding painting one of the murals!
Late evening now, Joe and Tracy deliver me out to the Super 8. Thanks dear new friends for your generosity and kindness!
The situation at the Wagon Wheel didn’t upset me. Just that it’s such a well-known Route 66 icon, and for the owner to express not the least interest in my journey–walking the old highway–well, it just surprised me.
Back to Top
Wednesday–August 16, 2017
Trail Day–021 Maps 57-59
Trail. Mile–19.8/0409.3
Location–Saint James, then on to Northwye (Rolla)
The Super 8 by the interstate is a very nice facility, the staff, courteous and kind. Thanks Joe (with the city of Cuba), and Tracy, Joy and Tammy (at the Cuba Free Press/Saint James Press) for your generosity and kindness!
Slept in this morning (quiet room, comfortable bed). First thing I want to do before heading out of Cuba is to go back downtown and take pictures of a couple of the building murals. The one at the newspaper office is of Bette Davis. She was spotted here in Cuba in 1948. The other is of Amelia Earhart. She was forced to land here in Cuba in 1928 during her transcontinental flight, the first by a woman.
The picture of the Four Way Station is of the actual building. It was built by Paul T. Carr in 1932 and renovated in 2015. It was built by Paul T. Carr as a modern full-service filling station for gasoline and repairs. It now operates as a cafe (with rave reviews).
On down the old highway is the Fanning Outpost and General Store, noted for the largest rocking chair in the world. The store is up and running, fresh and new. I receive a very friendly and warm greeting from Michelle. “You want your picture by the rocker?” asks Michelle. Out we go for the picture. Thanks, Michelle, for your kindness to me. Thanks, especially, for your guestbook entry; great energy for this old intrepid!
In Saint James, comes a young fellow up the sidewalk, pad and camera in hand. Greeting me, he asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be Nimblewill would you?” Ha, gotta remember to get them bigger shades, Bosephus! It’s Andrew Sheeley with the new weekly paper, Phelps County Focus. He’s interested in an interview. We make plans to get together tomorrow. I always look forward to and enjoy talking about “The Mother Road.”
I take lunch at Burger King, just this side of the interstate. A dark cloud bank is approaching from the west. I pay it little heed and head back out anyway. WRONG! In a short time the quarter-size drops start splatting. Here it comes! Luckily, I’m able to duck into an auto shop just as the downpour begins. Kind owner, Danny, lets me drop my pack and stay awhile.
I strike up a conversation with him. Come to find this is no ordinary auto repair shop. Rather, Danny’s business is restoration and exotic specialty painting, primarily on motorcycles. In his shop now is a beautiful 1957 Ford Ranchero belonging to the owner of Missouri Hick Bar-BQ. It’s in for a digital dash and radio upgrade. One of the finest examples of the old Rancheros I’ve ever seen.
The storm has totally set in; it’s pouring down rain. Danny takes a break from working on his Harley to show me pictures of his brother’s 1st place show winning bike, build and wild paintwork by Danny. “He’s won first place in both shows entered so far.” says Danny, proudly. More bike tanks and fenders sitting a table next his desk. Beautiful (but wild) looking paint work.
The rain has backed off from pour to steady. Danny’s fixing to close soon, and if I’m going to make the eight miles on down to north Rolla before dark, I’ve gotta get moving. Thanks, Danny, for letting me hang around!
Pack up, poncho on, I’m out in it. No time, the rain intensifies. I’m soon soaked. Rain lets up long enough to get a shot of the old Mule Trading Post. Cars coming at me with headlights on as I enter Northwye (Rolla). Kind lady at Budget Inn takes pity on the sodden old hiker. I’m in–and so thankful to be out of it.
Back to Top
Thursday–August 17, 2017
Trail Day–022 Maps 59-62
Trail Mile–17.8/0427.1
Location–Doolittle, then on to Hooker Church/Cemetery
Very restful night at the Budget Inn. Second night in a row to be in a motel room. Getting soft!
I’ve an interview first thing this morning. Andrew, staff writer with Phelps County Focus is right at my door at 7:30. His girlfriend, Athena, has come along. They take me to the new Waffle House just down the street where I’m treated to breakfast. A very enjoyable time. Both Athena and Andrew are award winners, Athena as an editorial page cartoon artist, and Andrew as winner of the William E. James/Outstanding Young Journalist Award.
They have me back to my room before nine. I had everything ready, so I need only shoulder my pack and go.
Really busy time for Rolla right now. Rolla is a college town and classes started again today. I remember Rolla for the School of Mines. It’s a much bigger campus now, and the name’s been changed to Missouri University of Science and Technology.
Down US-63 (and Historic Route 66) a short distance I come to one of the old highway’s biggest icons–actually two. First one, the Totem Pole Trading Post. The other, Tim Jones, owner of the place–for the past 37 years. The business was started 84 years ago by Tim’s father, Ralph. That was 1933. And Totem Pole is now the oldest and longest surviving business on Missouri’s Mother Road. Tim took over from his father in 1974. So, the business was not only started, but has remained in the Jones family all these years.
A rare lull, I get to spend a bit of mighty fine time with Tim. Far away glint in his eye, he tells me about marrying his high school sweetheart, Alice. They’ve lived happily together for the past 52 years. Tim and Alice have (had) five children. They lost Matthew in his youth.
Like me, Tim’s had a love affair with the classic Fords and Chevys. He started with an old Chevy, me with a Ford. He switched to Ford, me to Chevy–go figure! He still has his ’39 Ford coupe. Dropped a big-block blown engine in it years ago. Folks want to buy it, but “I’ll keep it awhile longer.” says Tim.
Tim’s also been fascinated by the amazing interest folks from far corners of the world have for Historic Route 66. He shows me two of his guest registers totally filled with (only) foreign visitors to Totem Pole. He’ll soon have to start another.
A real pleasure meeting you, Tim; thanks for the great trip back to the past, thank you!
I’ve a routing problem to solve today–how to put Little Piney Creek behind me. Folks have stopped to greet me this morning, ask if I need a ride. A pleasure meeting you, Mark! Same, too, Brian and Miranda. Hey, school started today. Brian and Miranda finally have a bit of time to themselves!
I decide to stick by the old alignment that runs beside the interstate. On this way now I follow it down to Arlington, where it dead-ends at Little Piney Creek. The old highway bridge here was washed out years ago and never replaced. I’d planned on fording the creek, but quickly have second thoughts. Been a fair amount of rain recently and the creek is running dark brown–and fast.
Only other choice, claw my way up the bank to I-44 and cross Little Piney on the interstate bridge. BAD idea. Walking westbound in the eastbound emergency lane is working fine for the short distance to the bridge–where it abruptly narrows to only three feet in width. I’m committed to this foolhardy ordeal now, so across I go. Doing fine until two fully-loaded semis come at me at 80, side-by-side. These guys are all pros, and they never fail to give me all the road they can. But here, there’s just nowhere for either of them to go. Jake-break, too late, they’re on me. Somehow they keep their cool as they fly by–only three feet away, three feet between them. The bridge moves up and down, not a joyful time. Reminds me of crossing Seven-mile Bridge during Odyssey 1998. The top of the bridge center span rises 125 feet above the Straits of Florida. When a fully loaded Oakley tanker passed me just as I reached the top, the bridge literally lifted and dropped under my feet. Remember that one, oh yes–will remember this one, also! Dumb, just plain DUMB!
Off the interstate, I’ve railroad tracks to cross. Sounds easy, NOT! Deep, brush filled ditch both sides, ten feet of loose rocks below the tracks, both sides. I’m finally back on the old road, west side of Little Piney–and still in one piece–thank you, Lord. Promise I’ll never do anything like this again!
Rest of this day is uneventful. Sundown and quickly turning dark, I reach the old Hooker Church/Cemetery where I pitch in a fence corner just outside the cemetery. An adventure, action-filled day. Heart managed to stay in my chest.
Over half-way across Missouri now, hiking strong…
Back to Top
Friday–August 18, 2017
Trail Day–023 Maps 62-63
Trail Mile–20.6/0447.7
Location–Gospel Ridge, then on to near Waynesville
Really cooled off by the old church last night. Heavy dew, plus fog this morning.
Another dumb move first thing. If I had just glanced at Google Earth last evening I would have seen that the gravel road to the church stayed down, to run along a little branch, while the old highway started climbing toward Hooker Cut. Lucky for me, as I continue the gravel, I can hear the occasional vehicle hammering the old pitted pavement. Dawns on me now, that noise is coming from above, not across. Not good. I figured the gravel road would soon lead back to the pavement, obviously, it doesn’t. Same time I figure what’s going on, I come to a driveway that crosses the branch by a ford. I cross to find an old trailer. From here, I can see the road cut above. I work my way past and behind the trailer to find a steep, brush-choked incline. Five minutes, I’ve manage to beat and claw my way halfway up. The bank becomes much steeper now. In order to continue climbing, I must kick in each toehold, then to inch my way up. Finally, I’m back on old Route 66. Saying goes, things like this goof “come in threes.” This dumb move adds up to the third, past two days–hey, my hopes are up!
Back on the divided four-lane now, not long l come to Hooker Cut. It was noted in the guides, and I’d marked it on my maps. Hooker Cut was a engineering marvel of rock blasting and excavation at the time. This concrete slab I’m standing on has to be one of the most impressive of all the old sections of Route 66. It was in this cut that the last section was paved. This was also the last section to be bypassed in the early 1980s. Other firsts: This was the first four-lane section, also, the first pavement that had sloped curbs to channel off rainwater. This roadwork was completed in 1938–the year I was born! All this sets me to pondering–“Hey old highway, you’re a bit pockmarked and scarred, definitely worn down; same goes for me. Ah, but we’re both still here!”
Just ahead and down, an older alignment makes a long horseshoe loop to cross Big Piney River at a spot called Devil’s Elbow. Gotta see this–left turn. At the river there’s an old bar and grill, Elbow Inn. The May flood of this year damaged much of the old historic district, including the inn and post office. Both are undergoing renovation. Right next is the old box frame two-span through truss bridge built in 1923. It survived the flood and is open.
Hiking over the bridge, past the post office, I’m soon back on the old four-lane. It leads me to Gospel Ridge and the Country Cafe. Sure, in I go for breakfast. A grand high-octane meal. Bobbi, my waitress, lets me linger, charge my phone, and get caught up on yesterday’s journal entry.
Many vehicles pass me today. All courteous, save for one. He comes to and stays the white line, forcing me into the ditch, blasting his horn the whole time. Willis makes up for it in short order, though. Across the way, in the westbound lane he slows, rolls down his window and hollers, “You walking Route 66?” I nod my head yes. “That WAS you I saw two weeks ago in Illinois!” Apparently he just passed me headIng east, turned around and came back–because he’s now turned around again. I get him stopped in order to hand him one of my Odyssey 2017 cards. Gotta be six people with him, big smiles, all–and much encouragement. Willis reaches across to take the card, then shake my hand–as the encouragement and well-wishes continue.
Folks, the wind passes, the sun’s rays touch us. Wonderful energy, sure! But the energy just passed to me here, totally different. And I’ve found–it can only be received with a joyful spirit and an open heart.
I’m in the Ozarks now. These are not majestic mountains, but they’re grand none-the-less. I spent my childhood nearby, in these hills, such a special place. And the people here? Some of the most-kind and friendly you could ever hope to meet anywhere.
I’ve been nursing a very tender spot on the ball of my left foot for the past two weeks. It gets better, then the soreness is back again. The long mile days, the constant hammering the pavement hasn’t helped. Denial comes easy when strength and great health have so long prevailed. Decision now though, is to cut this day short. Last number of days, I’ve managed to climb up on the itinerary miles for today. I’m in Gospel Ridge before one, my destination for today. Passing on through Gospel Ridge, and in short time I come to my kind of motel, family run All Star Inn. Jay immediately cuts me a hiker trash deal–I’m in!
The sore foot has definitely ushered a cloud over me despite my best attempt to fight it. Good enough reason to end this day early. Also, while struggling up and over the railroad tracks yesterday, I became entangled head-high in poison ivy. On gaining the road, I immediately stopped and washed my face, hands and legs best I could. No reaction now, so I should be okay. My clothing, though, is no doubt also coated with the ivy oil. First thing in my room, time to bathe and wash my clothes.
Now, for the rest of this day–rest…
Beyond the last horizon’s rim
Beyond adventure’s farthest quest,
Somewhere they rise, serene and dim,
The happy, happy Hills of Rest.
[Albert Bigelow Payne]
Saturday–August 19, 2017
Trail Day–024 Maps 63-65
Trail Mile–18.9/0466.6
Location–Hazelgreen
I’ve quit worrying about a poison ivy reaction–way past 48 hours now, the time frame within which the rash usually starts to appear. Clothes are clean (pretty much) and fresh, at least best as can be by soaking, scrubbing, and rinsing them in the bathtub.
I’m out to a perfectly clear morning, trekking through the west end of St. Roberts and into Waynesville. Looking for a place for breakfast, right away up comes the perfect mom-n-pop. Lots of pickups out front, the klatch at the large community table inside. Another fine tank-stokin’ breakfast to boost me down the road. Klatch breaking up, a fellow stops to chat. Richard gives me much good local information. I’d been concerned about food and water this evening. I now know there’s a truck stop with a fine cafe in Hazelgreen, my destination for today.
Waitress is cleaning off the table. Richard asks her for my check. “Another fellow already beat you to it.” she tells Richard. “Bet it was Bill.” says Richard. “He’s our retired state representative–bet it was him.” Amazing, isn’t it folks, how this kindness continues to be lavished on this old hiker! This historic highway must have something to do with it. I’ve had much good come my way during previous treks, but never to this extent. It’s simply remarkable!
Late afternoon now, the old highway a fair distance from the interstate, little local traffic, I have the opportunity to really enjoy the Ozark countryside, some winding road, some open views across the valley to adjacent green hills.
But the peace and quiet soon ends as I’m nearing the interstate again. The deep rumble-drum of truck traffic jolts me out my spell–brought by the backroads tranquility.
A vehicle slows behind me, then stops right in the road across, beautiful red Corvette. “Are you Nimblewill Nomad?” asks the driver, big smile. I meet Dick and Judy from Arizona. They heard about me through Route 66 News. Traffic coming up behind them. I’m now less than a mile from Hazelgreen, the truck stop that Richard told me about this morning. They drive on, and we soon meet again there.
Just a wonderful, energy-filled time with these two “Roadies.” Dick began his love affair with Route 66 way back in the late 50s. Since, he and his wife, Judy, have logged well over 20,000 miles on the Mother Road!
Along the old road today I passed the Roubidoux Springs Cherokee Trail of Tears Campsite, and a Route 66 icon, the Gascozark Cafe (1932).
At the Westwood Cafe, Hazelgreen, I enjoy some of their great “Down Home Cookin'” (compliments of Dick and Judy).
Kayla and Wendy, waitresses at the Westwood Cafe, let me linger the rest of the afternoon, while they drain their fountain in an attempt to keep an iced down mist in front of me.
Here at the Hazlegreen interchange, Route 66 takes to I-44. But Wendy assures me (even though the old highway bridge over the Gasconade River is closed) I’ll be able to get over the barricade and hike across.
I’ve waited here at the restaurant until after six, waiting for the heat of the day to back off some, with little luck. I want to get on down to the Gasconade before dark, so I head back out.
A very enjoyable three-mile hike down this deadend road. Ruins of an old 50s era garage, a sign for the Munger Moss Motel (an old 66 icon), a beautiful old church, and a line painted across the road showing the April flood high water mark.
At sunset I’m at the old box frame bridge. It’s much like the one over Big Piney River. Looking at it now, easy to see why it’s closed. Hope it’ll hold me up!
Across the Gasconade River I find a fine camp spot under a grove of cedar.
A very fine day, plenty hot, but fine. Some really nice people have crossed my path this day. This journey, this trek, will likely be labeled “Charmed!”
Sunday–August 20, 2017
Trail Day–025 Maps 65-67
Trail Mile–17.1/0483.7
Location–Lebanon
Just across and above the Gasconade River Bridge, a fine little grove of cedar. There, a soft bed for my camp last night. The bridge was barricaded, but I managed to cross just fine. I imagine it’ll eventually be razed. Local folks would rather see it repaired and opened again. I guess most “Roadies” would, too.
I’ve a relatively short hike today, around 14 miles to Lebanon, to the iconic Route 66 Munger Moss Motel (1946). A clear morning, but already hot and humid.
First stop, the neat jiffy at exit SR-T. Lots of Route 66 related information, including a map of the states, plus one of the world. It’s quite amazing, the folks from all over that have stopped in at this little place. Ah, could it’s be their good biscuits and gravy!
The “hot” at the beginning of this day is soon taken care of–towering thunderheads off to the southwest are moving in, and in no time the beginning cool breeze turns to leaf-shredding wind. Then to follow, sheets of rain. I’m able to duck under a line of trees along the road, here to be protected from the storm. As the rain works its way down through the canopy, the worst of the storm has passed, so I climb back to the road and continue on–poncho on. The storm soon moves off to the northeast leaving a cloudy, much cooler (and delightful) hiking day.
At the next exit, Historic Route 66 turns to cross I-44. To get to the old highway on the other side (I-44 must cross the original roadbed here), the road makes a long, sweeping bend in the wrong direction. Checking my map, looks like it’s better part of half-a-mile. I’d planned on staying this side of the interstate on down to the Lebanon exit–so I do.
A mile or so on, I get to thinking “I’m probably going to miss something important staying over here.” I’m right next the interstate now, and can see the old road right across on the other side. Yup! After waiting a good while for a break in the rushing line of traffic, I scurry across all four lanes of I-44 (no fences along here).
And I’m so glad I crossed, because in no time I come to an old, old roadside cafe sign advertising “FRIED CHICKEN – HOME MADE PIE.” The name of the cafe, which would have been at the top of the pole, is gone. So too, any visible remains of the former cafe.
And further along toward Lebanon now, I come upon what appears to be (the remains of) a Route 66 motor court. There’s a two-story residence (hidden by a tree), along with three cottages behind, all built from tan-colored flagstone. A fellow is out front in the parking area. We exchange greetings–and I meet James. Tells me he lives in the house. “You’re living in the old motor court house!” I reply. “What’s a motor court?” asks James. I tell him it’s like a motel; they were called motor courts back in the day. “Landlord told me this was one of the first motels around Lebanon, used to be a bunch more cabins; tornado got ’em or something.” says James. I give him my card–and the short-story version of my trek. James is impressed, wants a picture. We exchange selfies.
A bit before two I’m in Lebanon, the Munger Moss Motel. Dirty, stinking-sweaty, bedraggled, I enter the lobby. Lady behind the counter is talking to a couple that had just pulled up in their big shiny rolling palace. Turning from their conversation, the lady gestures to me–“What do you want.” WOW! How’s that for a welcome? I explain that I’d talked to her yesterday evening about a room for tonight. “I don’t remember talking to you.” her terse reply as she continues her conversation with the couple. In a few more minutes, the man turns to me, and I get to meet Mac and Laurie. They’re on Route 66, not going clear to California, but touring sections along.
The lady (Ramona, the owner)–after listening to my conversation with Mac–“So you’re Sunny; I remember talking to you now, just didn’t expect an old man to come walking in.” sympathetic, friendly look on her face!
Meantime, Bob, Ramona’s husband, comes in. I get a picture of the two. “We been married 60 years; he calls me Hoppy!” Exclaims Ramona, beaming smile now. Asking about the old cafe and motor court I’d passed coming in, Ramona brings out a book with some old black and white pictures. The motor court, “4 Acre Cabins.” And the long-gone Cafe, the really neat “Satellite Cafe.”
Before leaving, Mac hands me money. “Take this; we want to help the cause!” By their motorhome now, and before they move on, I take a picture of this kind, friendly couple. Thanks, Mac, for breaking the ice with Hoppy for me!
Turns out, I’m Bob and Ramona’s guest for this night. Thanks, dear new friends!
And so, folks, the ending to another remarkable day trekking this grand old “Mother Road.”
Back to Top
Monday–August 21, 2017
Trail Day–026 Maps 67-69
Trail Mile–16.5/0500.2
Location–Conway
The Munger Moss Motel is old, very old, but over the years it’s had dedicated and loving care, the last nearly 50 of it by Bob and Ramona Lehman. My room? Old doors, old (era colors) tile, old pretty much everything. But just painstakingly maintained in perfect condition. A trip back in time here, for sure–but a delightful one; thanks, Bob, “Hoppy,” for your kindness and hospitality!
I’ve not had to bandage my left foot, and it’s been pain-free the last three days. Perhaps not 100% yet, but getting there. What an absolute blessing!
I have ended up with a small dime-sized spot of poison ivy on my left wrist. It’s dry, no itch. Sure dodged one there.
However, another situation, more an aggravation than a problem. Somewhere, last day or so, I got into a whole bunch of chiggers. Bites all over me, from my neck to my ankles, and other places in between. To get out of the heat the past few days I’ve been pulling off at shady spots, dropping my pack, and flopping down in the grass. Guess I’ll have to quit that–for sure.
I’m out from the motel in good order a little before six-thirty. No time, fellow comes alongside on his Harley, pulls over and stops. I meet Pete. Happy fellow for this early in the morning. “Where you headed?” he asks. I give him the prepared short version of Odyssey 2017. He’s headed to a good spot (near the full eclipse path), so off he goes. Just have never tired of hearing a well-tuned Harley go from idle, through the gears–up to cruise. Hey, couple minutes, Pete’s back. “You got your solar eclipse glasses?” He’s holding out a pair for me. I accept them, and off he goes again!
Lebanon is a great promoter of Route 66. From the 
moment I entered at the Munger Moss Motel, and all the way through town, evidence of “Main Street U.S.A.” all along. In the Lebanon-Laclede County Library there’s an entire room dedicated to Route 66, “The Museum of the Mother Road.” Would sure like to hang around this morning to see it, but gotta keep movin’ on down this old road.
West side of Lebanon, nice murals in “Our Town Your Town” Park, and right across, Faye’s Diner. Neat 66 place. Great breakfast. Got my tank topped off for today! Couldn’t resist taking some pictures inside the place, a cartoon and a license plate.
Out of Lebanon, I’m right away hiking the grand Missouri countryside. An old concrete bridge gets my attention. And it is old. A bronze marker affixed to it is dated 1922. How about this bridge? It’s 95 years old–and no load limit!
A short distance further, an old building off in a pasture gets my attention (not making very good time this morning). The field gate is open, no “keep out” sign, so over I go. A stone fixed above the door reads, “FRANKENBERGER – 1949 – 1953.” And above that, another stone with a bell etched in. What was this building back in 1949 – 1953? Perhaps a one-room schoolhouse, but it really doesn’t look like a school. It couldn’t have been a church, no belfry, no stained glass windows. It’s a fairly nice building. Maybe it was the Frankenberger home. Whatever, its better days coincided with the hay-days of the Mother Road.
A bit further I come to C&Js Classics. They’re into classic car restoration. They’re open and I can see a 1956 Chevy in the bay. Fellow let’s me take pictures of the rusty truck out front–and the ’55 Chevy they’re working on. They just got the rebuilt engine back in. “Don’t forget the blue-dot tail lights.” I tell them.
Next stop (lots of stops this morning), C & H Auto Sales. Bill runs the place. He isn’t busy, time to sit the porch and chat. “Cars are all ready to go; nothing to do now.” says Bill. I ask him about the Frankenberger building. “I think that was their home. I went to school with a couple of Frankenbergers. There were a whole bunch of them. Not a single one of them around anymore. Don’t know where they all went or what happened to them.” puzzled expression on Bill’s face. He talked about what he used to do, about getting old–and about losing his son, his sister, his wife, and both his parents. “Drive by my son’s grave every day. Never have got over it.” Forlorn look of sadness. I give Bill one of my cards. “Sign my guestbook if you get a chance.” With that I turn to go. Bill’s phone rings. So long, Bill, enjoyed talking with you.
In awhile, the day starts darkening over. The sky is perfectly clear. Must be the beginning of the solar eclipse. Reaching for the glasses Pete gave me, I take a look. Through the glasses the sun looks like the moon in its last quarter. The day continues to darken. Vehicles on the interstate now have their headlights on, and the night-lights at a farmhouse I’m now passing have come on. Never hiked through an eclipse before, but I’m happy for this one. It’s cooled down some!
Late afternoon now, I reach Conway, my destination for today. A very nice market right at the main intersection. In I go, to meet Travis, the manager, and Judy, the lady working the deli. They’ve a nice seating area and I’m permitted to sit and rest, and charge my phone. “Would you like a cup of ice water?” asks Judy. In awhile, Travis looks at my maps, then explains what’s ahead, and Judy prepares me a full supper.
Evening now, I have Judy top off my water bottles, shoulder my pack and head on south. Camp is in a tall canopy of oak. An interesting hiking day, what with the solar eclipse…
Back to Top
Tuesday–August 22, 2017
Trail Day–027 Maps 69-72
Trail Mile–19.2/0519.4
Location–Redtop, then on to near Stanford
A little before six I wake to thunder, constant rumbling thunder, off to the west. A quick look at the radar shows a heavy line of storms coming in. If I linger here in camp, all my meager possessions, plus me, are soon going to become soaked. Breaking camp as quickly as possible, I shoulder my pack and return to the road. No sooner am I trekking the road shoulder than the rain begins, big quarter-size splats. Not good; I’m definitely in for a good drenching. With my left foot better now, drenching is not what’s needed!
Oh my, hard to believe, but less than 200 yards around the bend, an old barn right next the road. I rush there in a jog and manage to get in just as the wall of rain drives through. There’s an old chair over in one corner, turns out to be the dry corner. I remove my poncho, drop my pack, then sit and watch the show in all its swirling fury, as the rain comes in the open door and through gaping holes in the roof. An occasional spray of light mist finds my little corner, but I remain dry. Another look at the radar; the storm is directly upon me, yet it extends far to the west, clear into eastern Kansas. Wow, here comes another wave. Looks of it, I’ll be holed-up here in this old barn for awhile.
Ten o’clock now (been in this barn four hours), radar shows the storm east of me now. Still a light drizzle, but I move out in it.
Back on the road now, every step I take there’s a sharp pain in my left foot. Must just be stiffness. Another 100 yards and the pain hasn’t let up. I can’t put weight on my left foot. I finally stop and take my left shoe off. A small pebble falls out. I check my sock and my foot. They’re fine. Strange, there’s no stiffness or pain in my foot, whatsoever.
Shoe back on, pack shouldered, first step, bad pain. I hobble another 25 yards, stop, drop my pack and take my shoe off–again. This time I take my sock off. Nothing; my foot is fine, no pain at all. I run my hand in the shoe, nothing. Finally I pull the liner out and run my hand in the shoe again. Wow, something sharp sticking through! Finally, I turn the shoe over, there it is! In the old barn I picked up a short roofing nail and it had (by the time I finally found it) worked its way clear through the sole of my shoe. Nail gone, shoe and sock back on, pack up–I’m finally moving!
Local clutter has come in behind the storm creating total overcast. It remains cool, and I hike with my wind jacket on till noon!
Just before reaching the road to Niangua, I come upon another old motor court, “ABBYLEE MODERN COURT – AMONG THE TREES” reads the old sigh. Actually, the sign itself is really among the trees now. “Roadies” whizzing by here will miss this bit of 66 nostalgia. The cabins are being maintained, probably rented out long-term. The sign is really interesting. The lettering is quite faded, but it’s evident this was a brightly lit neon sign. The holes where the glass neon tubing came out can easily be seen. From the road I can count five cabins. There are probably more.
Also interesting, the old bridge across the Niangua River. The Niangua used to empty into the Osage River. That was before construction of Bagnell Dam. It now forms one of the major arms of Lake of the Ozarks. Dad and I used to fish the Niangua arm.
Added thirty-five cents to my retirement portfolio today, a quarter and a dime. Since leaving Chicago I’ve probably picked up three, maybe four dollars worth of change.
It’s two o’clock before I reach Marshfield. Would have been here before ten this morning if not for the storm. I’m hungry and thirsty. A fine deli in the Price Cutter Market. Kind lady loads up a plate full of food for the starved hiker. Their fountain is where I can get to it. Today I work on draining their lemonade spigot.
Late afternoon now it’s head down and hammer, if I want to get within striking distance of Springfield for tomorrow. It’s late evening when I finally reach the outskirts of Stanford. The old highway along here is wedged between the tracks and the interstate–no houses. I have to cross all four lanes of I-44 to get water for the night. I could see folks in their yard. Kind fellow let me take water from his faucet by the garage–then back across all four lanes of I-44.
Camp for the night is across the tracks in a nice wooded area. There’ll be train and interstate racket all night. I’m very tired, so the racket? No problem…
Back to Top
Wednesday–August 23, 2017
Trail Day–028 Maps 72-75
Trail Mile–19.6/0539.0
Location–Springfield
Semis hitting the rumble strip all night, and the occasional train. I didn’t sleep through it, but I didn’t wake up either. How does that work? Anyway, it was a pretty much restful night.
The road shoulder widened a little today, just enough to add rumble strips. Hard to walk them, so still dodging traffic, from hiking inside the white line to stumbling along the rumble strip outside the white line. There’s a rumble strip at the center too. Most everyone coming at me crosses it as they go flying by. Doesn’t take a whole lot of that repeat racket to jangle my nerves. [Whining again old man. Folks don’t come here to put up with your whining!]
I’m in east Springfield a little before noon, the intersection of Historic Route 66 and US-65. Just past this intersection, I spot another motor court through the brush and trees. No sign left to tell anything about it. Appears though that the main dwelling and what’s left of the cabins won’t be around a whole lot longer. This is a major, major intersection now, with extensive construction going on, probably a large shopping area coming in.
A short distance on toward Springfield proper, a large sign is all that remains of Holiday (drive in) Theater. Another sign easily missed due to trees growing up through it.
Just before the road turns to head for downtown Springfield, a really fine example of the many Route 66 era motor courts–Rest Haven Court. It’s really more like a modern motel. Their sign, which has been kept in excellent condition, gives the place away. 1950s, ’60s, for sure!
And for me today, a real surprise, a short section of the old concrete pavement has been spared, and is just for show at the turn toward downtown. I walk it around (neat shortcut).
One of the old style Steak and Shake buildings 1962) is here in east Springfield. It’s the original building on the original site. I marked this place marked on my maps as a “Must See.” In I go–and I go for the vanilla shake! I can’t even guess how long it’s been since I’ve had a true hand dipped shake! Hmm hmm, good! Bob, sitting the next table, offers to take my picture in front of the old drive in. “Need a photo to prove you’ve been here.” says Bob. He then hands me a bit to pay the Route 66 trek forward–thanks, Bob!
The Springfield Visitor Center is right on my way, so I stop in. Lots of Route 66 history here. Picture time. Ah, and I learn the name of the motor court about to be destroyed–the Lurvey Motor Court. There’s a black and white here of the main house and 12 cabins!
Downtown Springfield is quite impressive. Folks here take pride in their heritage. The old Gillioz Theater looks as new as the day it was built (1926)!
On the west side of Springfield and heading out, a couple more old motor courts, the Shamrock and the Melinda/Rock Fountain Court(s). The old Melinda cabins are still in service, long-term rentals.
Was hoping to find a room for tonight. I need a bath. But no luck. McDonald’s up ahead. That’s where I end up–till dark to work this entry, then behind (not 50 yards) to a fine wooded campsite.
Springfield is behind me now. Not a whole lot of Missouri left. Almost a fourth of the way to Santa Monica…
Back to Top
Thursday–August 24, 2017
Trail Day–029 Maps 75-77
Trail Mile–18.2/0557.9
Location–Halltown
Local traffic gets cranking around five-thirty. That wakes me. There’s enough daylight that I might break camp, so I get myself going–right back over to McDonald’s for breakfast. I’m out heading ever west by seven-thirty.
Right away, another old Route 66 era motor court/motel, the Wishing Well. The place is still in business, long term only (weekly/monthly).
Another isolated, cut-through section of the old road at the I-44 crossing/interchange by Haseltine. There are a couple of businesses still served by the cut-off segment, so there’s access to it, but it deadends, both ends. I’m able to get to it by climbing a bank. Same to get off, the other end.
I’m now sitting the lounge area at the Shell Station, across I-44 from Halltown, my destination for today. At the time (this morning), and looking back now, I didn’t know that just west of Haseltine I was about to enter one of the most picturesque and historically significant segments of Historic Route 66.
First comes two farms, one dating from 1845, the other, 1876. The earlier one has been in the same family for going on two centuries. Back then, Missouri was the western extent of the frontier. The families who settled these lands were true pioneers, the adventuresome who searched beyond that elusive, ever-distant horizon. These families planted their roots here. But might we become privy to their extended history, it’s a sure bet their brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles were among those restless souls that ventured on west, to Oregon and California. For we know, through diaries, journals, and outfitter records from those historic times that an overwhelming number of those emigrants were from Missouri. So, and if you recall, in my introduction to Route 66, Odyssey 2017, I spoke about the origin of this old road, that it began with little more than paths and traces. Over this very way, nearly two centuries ago, ventured those brave souls that joined the wagon trains west–to expand our great nation to Oregon and California.
On west this morning, remnants of old establishments, reminders of that other time–when Route 66 was THE road. Remains of motor courts, stone structures, sign poles, gas pumps with brush growing around them, concealing them (look close!).
In Graystone Heights I meet James. He fills me in on the fascinating history of “Modern Cabins,” built by Ben Brewer in 1935. Ben sold the motor court to Russ Schweke some 60 years ago. It’s now in the good hands of Russ’ son, John. James, Lori, and others here today, work for John, housed out of the old main building. Their going business–R&S Floral – Memorial Decorations. A really fine job of renovating/restoring the old court cabins, John! And so, a “Modern” business thrives here at “Modern Cabins!” Sorry I missed you today, John. Thanks for signing my guest book!
A bit further along I have the pleasure of meeting Russ Erwin of Erwin Farms. He’s out freshening up his farm produce sign. We have a pleasant chat. Russ is fascinated by the fact that I’ve walked from Chicago to his place here, and that I’m bound for California. Pleasure meeting you, Russ; I give him one of my Odyssey 2017 cards.
And more to add to this special day–the ghost town of Plano. The pictures tell this story.
Next, and just east of Halltown, under a huge oak across a distant field, the quintessential landscape painter’s delight–a one-room stone cabin standing proud and true. And right next, in the cool shade of another ancient oak, a stone enclosed spring, which no doubt served the cabin (look close again).
I no sooner put my camera (phone) away than I come to an old(er) road alignment. Fence posts driven right down through it. Bet all you “Roadies” missed this!
This has been a memorable hiking day–down this old Historic Route 66, a showcase of the beautiful rural Missouri countryside I’ve come to love. We’ve somehow managed to get away from the roaring/rushing hell of I-44 for a while. And the sweltering heat and high humidity have backed off–joy of all joys…
Back to Top
Friday–August 25, 2017
Trail Day–030 Maps 77-80
Trail Mile–19.9/0577.8
Location–Rescue, then on to Avilla
Jade, the attendant at the Shell Station yesterday, was ever-so-kind to me. She let me hang around all evening, charge my phone and work my journal entry, messages, and email–all while draining her soda fountain. Thanks, Jade, for befriending this old hiker!
Across the road from the Shell Station, up the embankment, then under the trees, an okay campsite. It’d have been a great campsite save for the poison ivy. It’s been hard to find any place to pitch the last few nights free of poison ivy. Spots are showing up on my arms and legs now. And the chiggers haven’t backed off any either. New bunch comes along to chomp on me every day now. [Whining again, old man.]
The route I take this morning goes an old alignment, across a box frame bridge to the (back then) little village of Spencer. Another delightful journey back in time for me. Spencer’s fate was sealed when bypassed by the new alignment. It immediately became isolated, fixed in time.
And time was taking its toll, showing no mercy when Francis and Mary Lynn Ryan purchased Spencer in 2007. Since then, they’ve worked tirelessly to restore the buildings to their glory days. Today I stand here before this delightful village taking pictures and enjoying the fruits of their labor. Thanks Francis and Mary Lynn, Spencer lives on! Take a moment and read the history posted here–the story of Spencer.
At the end of this old alignment I stop to photograph one of the best examples I’ve seen so far–of how the new road completely buried the old.
More old businesses, homes, and barns today, all withstanding the ravages of time best they can. Learned from reading the Spencer history that the distinct, unique stonework that identifies and dates such structures is known as Ozark giraffe. I’ve become partial to the old buildings constructed in Ozark giraffe, especially the beautiful barns.
At the crossroads known as Albatross, I take a break at the Conoco convenience. Here I meet April. April has worked here the past 15 years. “Lots of folks touring Route 66 stop here. Some in cars, some on motorcycles, bicycles–not so many walking. There’s a lady two/three weeks ahead of you–walking to California.” says April.
I’d been warned way back that Route 66 was closed between here and the crossroads at Phelps. Sure enough there’s a barricade completely blocking the road. But April assures me I’ll be able to get through on foot. I’ve enjoyed a good lunch and prepare to head back out when April asks where I’ll be staying tonight, then tells me, “Bernie’s in Avilla makes the best deluxe bacon double cheeseburger I’ve ever had.” Checking the time (a bit after noon), the distance being around 15 more miles, I commit to going for it. Burger and fries sounds really good! I thank April (get her picture behind the counter) then shoulder my pack, go around the barricade and head on west.
Sure enough, at Phelps, the bridge is totally down, but the workers don’t hesitate letting me cross on their make-shift road below. What a lucky break! The detour goes over ten miles around. Thanks fellows for letting me pass!
I finish the 15 miles on down to Avilla well before dark, then scout a spot to stealth before making my way into Bernie’s Bar & Grill. I place my order for the burger and fries even before dropping my pack. Been thinking about the “…best deluxe bacon double cheeseburger…” all afternoon!
More neat (Ozark giraffe) stonework along today, including a motor court with a recently burnt down cabin.
Camp is behind two grain bins next the bar…
Back to Top
Saturday–August 26, 2017
Trail Day–031 Maps 80-82
Trail Mile–19.2/0597.0
Location–Carthage
I’m the only one stirring in Avilla this morning as I break camp and head for Carthage. This will be a short hiking day. I should arrive downtown Carthage around noon.
Even though my itinerary mileage for today shows a tad over 19 miles, I’ve only around 11 remaining to reach Carthage. I set this short day up by hammering down a 27-mile day yesterday. And the purpose in that? Well, since the onset of this Odyssey 2017, I’ve received much energy-packed encouragement from a dear new friend, Sherrie, who lives nearby in Seneca. Awhile back, Sherrie extended an offer I couldn’t refuse–three night’s stay at her rustic guest cabin down on clear-rushing spring-fed Big Lost Creek–plus daily shuttles to and from my itinerary points. So, anxious to meet Sherrie, and get some much-needed quality rest, I head out for Carthage!
Headed that way now, jacket on, another beautiful cool morning, I stop to photograph another old barn (this Route 66 trek has turned into a barn tour). This one kinda like all the others, yet special and unique in its own way.
Next up, the beginning of the unusual
and appealing roadside iron artwork by Lowell Davis. The one pictured here is for farmer Baker. I cross the road for a better shot. On down a short distance, in his drive on an old John Deere tractor–farmer Baker, so I thought. He shuts the engine off. Greeting him, I ask, “You Mister Baker?” “Name’s Hat Summers, I bought the place from Baker long time ago. Was living in Clovis, got tired of the desert and moved here to Missouri. Couldn’t wait to get out of the desert, but now I sorta miss it.” far-off stare from Hat. I take a picture of Hat standing proudly by his vintage ’48 John Deere.
Red Oak II, an entire town, in itself a work of art, was created by Lowell Davis. It’s off Route 66, so tomorrow morning, Sherrie will be driving her mother, Carol, and me to Red Oak II to meet Davis and see his town.
Back on the old alignment, just before Carthage, another (Ozark giraffe) stone-sided motor court, Red Rock, still in service–long term rental.
I arrive Carthage right at twelve. Sherrie is right here to get me and whisk me away to her special corner of heaven on earth, Big Lost Creek. Sherrie is the fifth generation, same family, to keep and care for this land. More about Lost Creek and Sherries ancestors tomorrow.
Back to Top
Sunday–August 27, 2017
Trail Day–032 Maps 82-85
Trail Mile–16.7/0613.7
Location–Joplin
The cabins on Big Lost Creek, belonging to Sherrie and her mother, Carol, are much more than just cabins–the one Sherrie lives in, and her mother’s–they really are more like homes than cabins now, having been enlarged and remodeled over the years. The cabin I’m staying in is more traditional, having undergone few changes over the years.
I slept more soundly last night than in any recent time. Comfortable bed, old quilt pulled up. That did it, I was a goner.
I’m up reasonably early this morning. Sherrie said she’d have coffee ready, so I’m right over there. We then load and head for town (Joplin). I’m to meet with Ron Hart, Director, Route 66 Chamber of Commerce. We get together for a fine time at the local mom-n-pop. Ron treats Sherrie, Carol, and me to breakfast.
Ron then offers to drive me up to Red Oak II to meet Lowell Davis, artist/builder, the man behind the interesting “ghost town” of Red Oak II. Were in luck, Lowell is home. We sit his old porch and learn all about Red Oak II. In 1987, Davis began turning his farm into a tribute to his home town of Red Oak, and before long Red Oak II was born. He moved homes and businesses from the original town site to his farm, where he created the new Red Oak II. Davis’ personal residence is the Belle Starr house, where the infamous lady outlaw grew up.
His ghost town includes a Phillips 66 station, an old schoolhouse, feed store, diner, town hall, and jail. Two buildings important to Davis are the blacksmith shop, once run by his great-grandfather, and the general store, run by his father–where he learned to sculpt and paint. Thanks, Lowell, for telling your story, and for letting us see your interesting ghost town, Red Oak II.
Back in Carthage now, and before resuming my hike on down Route 66, Ron shows me his handy work, the restored Boots Motel/Court, where Clark Gable once stayed. Ron has the old motor court looking great, complete with neon lighting, just like in the olden days of Route 66. Thanks, Ron, for taking time to show me the sights of Carthage!
A little after eleven, I’m trekking on down the old road, toward Joplin, my destination for today.
Another cool, very pleasant day for hiking. A few drops of rain, otherwise totally overcast. By six I reach Mural Park in downtown Joplin, home of Langston Hughes, American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist.
Sherrie comes to fetch me, then to return me to her quaint little guest cabin on Big Lost Creek.
Time for a shower before going over to Sherrie’s for another wonderful meal–and another delightful evening with Sherrie and her mother, Carol.
Back in my cozy cabin now, a short journal entry. I can’t stay awake…
Back to Top
Monday–August 28, 2017
Trail Day–033 Maps 85-88
Trail Mile–16.7/0630.4
Location–Baxter Springs
Another peaceful nights sleep in the little cabin on Big Lost Creek. Had my alarm set for six. Good thing, I was sleeping ever so soundly. Sherrie said she’d have coffee ready a little after six, so I get my pack organized, grab my sticks and head over.
We’ve a forty-minute drive back to Mural Park in Joplin. Sherrie is a public prosecutor and has to get to court this morning, so she drops me off and is gone.
Another cool morning, a gentle breeze, just perfect for a hike through the rest of Missouri. The old highway heads ever west towards Kansas, through Joplin’s 7th Street commercial strip. This part of Joplin has seen its better days–many boarded up businesses, empty buildings. A good street sweeping would help.
The west side of Joplin (Missouri) becomes the east side of Galena (Kansas). I cross the state line at 10:15. Galena has rolled the red carpet out for Route 66 travelers. Picture time, big time, into and clear through town.
In Riverton is Nelson’s old Riverton Store, an icon still in business on Route 66. No wonder, one of the best deli smoked turkey sandwiches I’ve ever enjoyed!
What Kansas lacks in miles is made up for in historic places. The Rainbow Bridge is certainly one of them. Since the glory days of Route 66, this stretch of the old road has seen multiple realignments, yet local traffic (less trucks) can still round Rainbow Curve and cross this historic structure.
My destination for today is Baxter Springs, Kansas. Another lovely village big on remembering (and promoting) its place in the life and times of Route 66. The folks of Baxter Springs take great pride in their heritage and have done a fine job of restoring their old Phillips 66 Station. It now serves as their visitor center. Sherrie has come to get me here in Baxter Springs, and we visit the old gas station together. And downtown, two more era businesses, the Ritz Theater and Angel’s Cafe.
Back to Big Lost Creek for the evening, I want you to see this special place. First, the cozy old cabin I’ve been staying in. Then Sherrie’s cabin (home). And finally, Carol’s place, all on Big Lost Creek near Seneca, Missouri. This evening, Carol has prepared one of my most favorite meals of all, fried crappie and veggies (home-grown and fresh from Sherrie’s garden).
My yes, life is good!
Back to Top
Tuesday–August 29, 2017
Trail Day–034 Maps 89-92
Trail Mile–20.1/0650.5
Location–nine-foot ribbon road near Narcissa
Another perfectly restful night at Sherrie’s little cabin on Big Lost Creek. My alarm was set for six. I’m up, wishing I’d straightened my things better last night. Coffee time, as I can see the lights are on in Sherrie’s cabin. I hurry, collect my things, grab my pack and sticks and head over.
Since Sherrie first met me in Carthage some 65 trail (road) miles ago, then to begin shuttling me back and forth to her place on Big Lost Creek, the daily driving time/distance has remained pretty much the same. Interesting how Route 66 cuts an almost perfect arc around Big Lost Creek. So, as I continue my trek down the old highway, I’m little if any further away, though I’ve hiked another 20 miles.
Sherrie delivers me safely back to Baxter Springs, and I’m on my way by seven-thirty. I’ve a relatively short hike to the Oklahoma line, and I reach there a bit after eight.
Another state in my rearview–Kansas. That makes three down, five to go, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Soon as I crossed into Kansas yesterday the terrain began changing, from crop land to prairie. And here in Oklahoma the change continues.
Entering Oklahoma, the Mother Road crosses Indian lands. First village, Quapaw. (See if you can pronounce that correctly.)
In Commerce, I pause at the ball field by the Mickey Màntle statue and get my picture with this legendary New York Yankee slugger.
Late afternoon Sherrie comes to get me, then drives me the short distance to the west end of the nine-foot ribbon road, that I might see it this evening. I’d decided to hike the newer alignment out of Miami and as a result will not be on the nine-foot ribbon road tomorrow. When we arrive, others are here, Russell Earls, local County Commissioner, and Kaisa Barthuli, Program Manager, Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program. Kaisa is with the National Park Service/National Trails Intermountain Region, Santa Fe. One of their preservation projects will involve this longest remaining section of the old ribbon highway. A real joy meeting Kaisa. We exchange cards and I get her picture at the ribbon road marker.
Light to moderate traffic, plus wide, paved shoulders (and absolutely perfect weather), and now meeting Russell and Kaisa, have combined to make this a memorable hiking day–as I continue trekking down this Mother Road, the “Main Street of America.”
Back to Top
Wednesday–August 30, 2017
Trail Day–035 Maps 93-94
Trail Mile–20.3/0684.4
Location–Afton
Going to be another grand day for hiking Route 66, cool, the least breeze. Sherrie has me back on the road and trekking a bit after eight. Thanks, Sherrie, another great night at your guest cabin on Big Lost Creek. Another fine supper prepared by your mother–thanks, Carol!
In short order, I’m at the ribbon road section of an earlier alignment near Narcissa. A couple more pics and I move on south.
In a short while a car pulls to the shoulder and stops. Great energy from Jacob and Melody. “Saw you hiking the road yesterday; where you going?” asks Melody. Really nice lady and her son–I give them the extended version of this Route 66 trek. Melody wants my picture with Jake. Then I get one of the two of them.
Trekking on down, not far, a couple bicycling 66 crosses the highway and stops ahead of me. It’s Tim and Elsa, racking up the miles (60 a day) for a very good cause–as Team Lupus LA. We exchange cards, and much encouragement.
An old motor court and long ago useful (empty) buildings to see as I enter the little village of Afton. And the highlight here–the Afton Station Packard Museum. Entering, I’m greeted by Judy. She lets me tour the museum and take some great pictures of the shiny (like) new cars–beautiful old Packards sitting the showroom floor. Some neat poster bills, too, of James Dean/Marilyn Monroe, and Frank Sinatra. Thanks, Judy, for your kindnesses!
South of Afton now another vehicle pulls to the shoulder. “You walking 66?” fellow asks. Oh my, I recognize him. It’s Jerry McClanahan, author (and illustrator) of the popular Route 66 guidebook, <Route 66: EZ66 Guide for Travelers – 4th edition>. Jerry is headed home to Chandler after attending a meeting with the National Park Service. If you recall, I had the opportunity to meet Kaisa Barthuli (with the Park Service) out here yesterday–and today, Jerry McClanahan. Amazing!
Sherrie has come once again to take me off this road–back to her little guest cabin on Big Lost Creek. On the way, I insist she let me treat her to supper–at the “Nowhere on 66 BBQ” in Afton.
It’s been an action packed and people packed day…
Back to Top
Thursday–August 31, 2017
Trail Day–036 Maps 94-96
Trail Mile–20.3/0684.4
Location–White Oak
Been dreading this day, the day I must bid farewell to two wonderful new friends, Sherrie and Carol. I’m wandering around the cabin, half awake, half asleep, as I try straightening up, collecting all my stuff (after five nights), then ready my pack to go. By the time I turn to take one last look at what’s pretty much become my place, I’ve managed to get myself into a troubling state of downright gloom. Sherrie has coffee ready, just as she has these last four mornings, but I’m unable to return her kind morning greeting with any degree of gladness.
I want to see Carol one last time before Sherrie loads me to go–one last time. At Carol’s home, I’m asked to sit and have breakfast. Sherrie has brought a freshly collected egg, and Carol has biscuits and apple butter ready.
Then comes the first of two sad farewells–Goodbye, Carol, I’ve so enjoyed these short-but-happy times here.
South of Afton now, where Sherrie came for me yesterday, she pulls across the road and stops. Pack shouldered, I somehow manage to blurt out a thank you–and goodbye. Fifty yards, I turn. Sherrie waves goodbye to me. I wave back. A ways farther, I turn again. Sherrie is still there, waving. I turn away for the final time–and trek on, toward California.
I mentioned in an earlier entry that the land along Big Lost Creek was into the fifth generation of same family ownership. It started with Sherrie’s mother’s side, her great great grandfather, Andrew Sparlin. It then went to Sidney, the youngest of Andrew’s 22 children. Then to Esther, Carol’s mother. And in due time, it will pass from Carol to Sherrie and her children.
Big Lost Creek was named by Andrew. He had come to the valley during an earlier time and found the place where he wanted to settle and build his home. He left an old iron kettle by the creek to mark the spot. Upon returning later, and searching all around, he never found the marker he’d left. From this came the name, Big Lost Creek.
There’s much more to it, the fascinating history, the deep, deep roots, the proud heritage–from Andrew Sparlin on down. Then there’s the intriguing story that’s inescapably interwoven, a sad and tragic time in this family’s past–from Sherrie’s father’s side. It’s a sorrow-filled story about her grandfather, Carl, and his wife, Hazel. Carl was in the army. He served as a medic in WWI in France, at the Battle of Verdun.
Carl and Hazel were apart for a number of years. During that time Carl wrote over 200 letters to Hazel. She kept those letters by her bedside and read them for the remaining 60 years of her life. After Hazel’s death, the letters made their rounds from one family member to another, finally ending up with Sherrie.
Carl and Hazel had four children. Upon surviving the war, returning from the war, Carl soon left her alone, to care for them, to raise them–alone.
Carl had been gassed during the most brutal, incomprehensible times of combat. He survived the gassing, but once home he had to make frequent visits to the V.A.
We’ll never know for sure, but during that final visit he was likely given a grim diagnosis. For, shortly after, Carl went out to the barn and hanged himself.
Most everyone (including Sherrie), thought Carl to be a heartless, selfish, uncaring person. But when she opened and read each of the letters Carl had sent to Hazel–one by one, was there revealed the true heart of the man. There was simply no question, Carl’s love for Hazel and their children was deep and everlasting.
So, what was the diagnosis given Carl that fateful day? Likely, it doomed him to a (remaining) life of total dependency. And rather than burdening his family, he did what he thought best.
From notes written by Hazel, Sherrie learned that Hazel’s love for Carl never faded. When his limp, lifeless body was lowered from the barn timbers, the one thing found in his pocket was a crumpled and faded scrap of paper–the verses from “In the Gloaming” written and published in 1874 by Meta Orred:
In the gloaming, oh my darling
When the lights are soft and low
And the quiet shadows, falling,
Softly come and softly go
When the trees are sobbing faintly
With a gentle unknown woe
Will you think of me and love me,
As you did once, long ago
In the gloaming, oh my darling
Think not bitterly of me
Though I passed away in silence
Left you lonely, set you free
For my heart was tossed with longing
What had been could never be
It was best to leave you thus, dear,
Best for you, and best for me
In the gloaming, oh my darling
When the lights are soft and low
Will you think of me, and love me
As you did once long ago.
Pretty much sums it up for me. How for you? If you can read this poem (as it indeed related to the tragic life of Carl and Hazel) and not have your vision blurred by tears, or your heart not lumped up in your throat…
I’ve a fully paved shoulder to hike on today, so I need not worry about the heavy oncoming traffic. Head down, I simply grind out the miles for this day. These hours alone in thought, good for me. The sadness of departing friends, and the preparation of telling you about Carl and Hazel, though a grand and pleasant day–a day of sadness and gloom for me.
Late evening and toward the end of the day now, along fields and wide open country, come the Hi Way Cafe and the Western Motel, just a short distance from my destination today, I head for the cafe, then the motel. Kind inn keep, Barbara, gladly gives me a great hiker trash deal. Six nights in a row–a shower and a comfy bed. Cheer up old man; life is good…
Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.
[A.E. Housman]
Back to Top
Friday–September 1, 2017
Trail Day–037 Maps 96-97
Trail Mille–19.2/0703.6
Location–Bushyhead
I was sure the really great hiker trash motel deals were gone for good, But Barbara at Western Motel has proven me wrong. Nice room, comfy bed, quiet night, great hiker trash deal–thanks Barbara!
Here comes another great hiking day, weather-wise, cool and clear, the least breeze. September is upon us; so the really unbearably hot days should be behind me now.
A number of Route 66 era things to see today. First, what’s left of an old restaurant/Bar-B-Q joint. The picture turned out dark, so you’ll need to enlarge it to see much. Take a look. Bet it was a popular place in its time.
A bunch of old era cars and trucks today. First one, an Oldsmobile. Don’t know the year but I’d guess late 40s early 50s.
A little further along, a small building. Sign reads Indian Smoke Shop. I know there’s a good story if I take time to stop in. I really want to go on down the road though. I try not looking over, but get derailed, so, left turn. A short driveway, yet long enough, and enough time to conjure up an image of the Indian that surely runs the place. He’ll be short, a bit pudgy, round-faced, sporting a (Lincoln-like) top hat loaded with bling, the main one, a ridged half-dollar sized silver and turquoise button with eagle feathers fixed and dangling from threads of rawhide. Then to frame this image, there’ll be smoke encircling his head–from one of his “two for 99 cents” cigars (as advertised out front). However, as I enter I’m greeted by Michelle, a full-blooded German gal. Oh well!
Michelle has worked here at Indian Smoke Shop the past two years. “Indian lands all around White Oak, Delaware, Shawnee, Cherokee, owner is Horse Chief, a Cherokee.” she tells me. Wish I’d had a chance to meet him. I probably know some of the descendants of his ancestors that escaped getting driven out of Georgia. Good time talking with Michelle. “Really neat what you’re doing; here, take this.” She hands me money.
Early afternoon, could use a cold drink. Passing Hilltop Bar, in I go. Bunch of fellows having s good time shooting pool. Watered up now, and as I leave, Jim follows me out–asks where I’m going. He’s from Chicago, lived here only a short time, but long enough to get hooked on this Route 66 thing–and old barns. I give him one of my cards. Should have told him, next time you go back to Chicago, you need to ride your bike to L.A. first, then turn around and ride the old Mother Road all the way back.
The highlight for today is the old Prior Creek Bridge, just east of Chelsea, built in 1826. Wasn’t aware it was here, glad I saw it and walked down. I’m in Chelsea a little after two-thirty–to hit the deli at the Shell Station. Really good ham and cheese sub. Sure, I drained their fountain!
Another old era motel here, the Chelsea. Saw its better days many years ago.
My destination today is a wide spot in the road known as Bushyhead. It’s another six miles on down. I hike it out. In Bushyhead now, I’ve time to get in a couple more miles before sunset, so I continue on. And am I ever glad I did, because, nearing sunset, and just as I begin looking for a place to pitch for the night, pulls this vehicle to the shoulder just ahead of me. Both driver and passenger get out. I recognize them immediately. Oh my, this can’t be, but it is–Nathan and Kim! They’re friends from Sylacauga, Alabama. indeed, they’re dear friends, made during my time on Flagg. They’ve come all the way to Oklahoma to see me, to encourage me, to spend some time with me.
Is this not amazing!
Back to Top
Saturday–September 2, 2017
Trail Day–038 Maps 98-100
Trail Mile–19.4/0723.0
Location–Verdigris
A quiet, peaceful night at Blue Creek Campground, Oologah Lake, near Foyil, Oklahoma. Nathan and Kimm found this Corps of Engineers lake yesterday evening, after driving all day from Alabama. They set up camp, then came out to try and find me. And they did, almost immediately. They no more than got on Route 66 headed for Bushyhead, and there I was, walking the shoulder toward them! It was near sunset and I’d already started looking for a place to camp for the night. So, when I closed my entry yesterday with “Is this not amazing!” now you know what I was talking about!
Nathan has coffee ready a little before six-thirty. I’m right over. I’ve learned to read what sort of day is coming on–early, the kind of hiking conditions. As we enjoy our coffee, daylight comes, and I can tell this is going to be another near-perfect one!
Nathan is going to do the road walk with me today. No problem for him. He’s just returned from hiking another segment of the Appalachian Trail, through some of the toughest climbs in the White Mountains along Franconia Ridge, Little Haystack, Lincoln, and Lafayette.
Kimm delivers us back to where they found me yesterday. A few pictures and we’re off toward Verdigris, my destination for today.
More old rusty Route 66 era cars and trucks. When I was a teenager, these were all brand new vehicles. Although I’ve accumulated the least bit of rust myself, I think I’ve actually fared better. They’re sitting; I’m still moving.
In Foyil, we stop to read the stone marker for the Indian boy, Andy Payne, who won the 1928 transcontinental foot race, from California to New York.
Totem Park is off the old highway. So, too, the Will Rogers Museum. Kimm goes over to both. At Totem Park, she checks it out and gets a pic for me. Then she comes for us, to drive us to the Will Rogers Museum. She had checked it out earlier and told us it’s m a “must see.” And is it ever. I’m so glad I was able to go!
Back on the old road again early afternoon, folks stop us to find out what we’re doing. I meet Rob, one of the county commissioners for Rogers County. Ron is the second county commissioner I’ve met out here the last few days. He expresses much interest in my trek. We exchange cards.
Not long on the road today, both Nathan and I start finding coins along, pennies, nickels, dimes, even quarters. Hard to believe, $1.92 total for the day!
Evening, we’re back to Blue Creek Campground. Kimm fixes burgers on the grill for us. Just a wonderful evening with these dear friends.
Much traffic today, Labor Day Weekend. The campground is totally packed tonight.
Sunday–September 3, 2017
Trail Day–039 Maps 100-102
Trail Mile–20.1/0743.1
Location–Tulsa
Another peaceful night at Blue Creek Campground. The place was totally packed, what with this being Labor Day Weekend. But no rowdiness, no racket!
Nathan has coffee perked, so I hasten to break camp and get over. He and Kimm have been up awhile; they’ve got their tent down and all their camping gear loaded.
So, now they load me and we head back to Verdigris, where Nathan and I ended our hike together yesterday. Now comes that agonizing time again, bidding farewell to these dear friends. I thought I’d do better this time–but I don’t. Kimm consoles me.
I manage to shoulder my pack, get my sticks, and turn to the road. I stop, then watch them pull away. They both wave to me and are soon gone.
I try to set my thoughts to this day but that’s not working well. I’d told them to make sure and stop at the “Blue Whale,” one of the most popular Route 66 era icons. In awhile, I get a picture they’d taken there.
In short time I arrive there myself, to be greeted by a group on a motorcycle tour down Route 66. They’re from Switzerland, I’m told by their guide, Klaus. “I bring a group usually a couple times a year. We fly into Chicago, rent the motorcycles, then head down Historic Route 66.”
Klaus tells them what I’m about, so now they all want their picture with me. After, they file by one by one to wish me well and hand me money. It’s astonishing how much these folks truly love America. They love us, folks, they truly do love us!
I take a good look at the whale, get some shots. Then as I’m leaving, drives up Don and Richard. They’re each driving a beautiful 66 era car. Don (from Ohio), a 1962 Corvette. And Richard (from Ontario) an off-the-showroom floor, 1966 Hemi-powered Charger. More good wishes for this old hiker–and more money.
Next stop, a huge produce stand. Brightly colored vegetables and fruit. Michelle and Rick keep it open from April through September. “People from all over the world stop at our stand–folks in cars, on motorcycles, bicycles, and a hiker once in awhile,” Michelle tells me. The nectarines are perfect. Gotta have one!
This is turning to be a “kooky mailbox” day. They’re all revvin’.
More 66 era abandoned buildings and old shuttered tourist/motor courts. The “Roadies” go whizzing by all of these and miss them; I’m moving the least bit slower.
I’m “Livin’ on Tulsa time” now. Got in here at three-thirty. Neat 66 era both sides, all along. Got a bunch of pics. I’d hoped to find a still-open mom-n-pop motel, but no luck. Plenty of Tulsa time before dark, though, so I hoof on across the Arkansas River. No motels over here either–but a McDonald’s will do for supper, then to sit, charge my phone and compose my journal entry for today.
Wow, just got a text from Nathan and Kimm. They’re back home in ‘Bama, safe and sound! Thank you, Lord…
Back to Top
Monday–September 4, 2017
Trail Day–040 Maps 103-105
Trail Mile–16.2/0759.3
Location–Sapulpa
Didn’t know there were sand spurs out here in Oklahoma. Never ran into them anywhere before other than Florida. But they’re here in Oklahoma. Oh yes, found that out yesterday evening while preparing to stealth camp across from McDonald’s. I’d found a spot and was dropping my pack when I felt needle-like jabs in both my ankles. Reaching down with both hands, my fingertips became immediately impaled on the sand spur spike balls. Next ten minutes was spent ridding myself of the little nasties.
A BN&SF switching yard less than a quarter-mile away kept slamming rail cars all night–just another noise I’ve now learned to block out.
McDonald’s is open, so I’m right there for coffee, then on the road south out of Tulsa by nine. This day is starting out hot, and I’ve a hunch the tarmac will be cookin’ before long.
A few pictures today, some related to Route 66–old buildings and signs. The others, of the first major oil strike in Oklahoma, an old derrick (Sue Bland #1 Discovery), and Ollie’s Red Fork Station (the interesting story of train engineer, Casey Jones).
I’d planned on staying in Sapulpa tonight, but the old dilapidates OK Motel is no longer okay. It’s closed down, their phone disconnected.
I’ve had my meal for today, a fine spaghetti dinner at Mazoli’s, so decision is to hike it on down. A feature of interest this evening is the old Rock Creek Bridge. I don’t cross it, but get a mediocre shot of it while continuing down Oklahoma SR-66.
I’m at the jiffy near I-44 exit 211 now. This will probably be it for today. There’s a local (not chain) motel in Bristow. About a 19-miler to get there, my destination for tomorrow.
Back to Top
Tuesday–September 5, 2017
Trail Day–041 Maps 105-107
Trail Mile–21.8/0781.1
Location–Bristow
It is really nice sleeping on a comfy mattress. Last night, no doubt my best night in my tent this journey. What happened–my old NeoAir mattress totally gave out over two weeks ago. So, some nights I was able to find a halfway smooth spot of ground, others not. At my age, a fellow’s bones tend to rub together in ways you’d just as soon not have to deal with; and I was having to deal with it. Sherrie solved that problem for me. She’s loaned me her Therm-a-Rest to use until my faithful sponsor, Travel Country Outdoors in Orlando, can get a new one to me at my next mail drop in Chandler.
During today’s hike I’ll reach what I consider a significant milestone for this trek. Hard to believe but I’ll be a third of the way to Santa Monica, that I’ve been trekking this old highway for 41 days. And it’s been going remarkably well. Ah, and today–another grand day to be hiking Oklahoma. Another day deeper along toward fall.
This first photo for today is of a restored 1952 Ford 4-door hardtop. A number of times, various entries I’ve mentioned my 1953 Ford. Ford used this same body style for the years 1952-1954, so looking at this ’52, you can get an idea what my ’53 looked like.
Last number of days I’ve been wanting to stop at a post office. There’s one in Kellyville where I’ll be passing today. Problem is, it’s off the highway, across the tracks on the opposite side of 
town. Because of that, I’d made up my mind to hike on by and look for another one later. Some reason, last minute, I change my mind, hang a left and hike down the main drag to the Kellyville Post Office. And am I ever glad I did–crossing the tracks coming back, there’s a grand dead-end segment of the old concrete highway. And next to it, an old Route 66 era two story house. Two pictures show the old alignment and the house. I should have taken a shot that showed both the old road and the house. I just didn’t realize what I was looking at, at the time. Folks, do you remember the beautiful old poem, “The House by the Side of the Road” by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911]?
“There are hermit
Souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house
By the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house
By the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened
Meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my
House by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.”
If you could imagine that old house–well, close your eyes–and imagine!
In the afternoon now I take to an old alignment that winds and climbs the hills. It passes peaceful countryside with idyllic pastures adorned with profusion of yellow wildflowers.
Then, probably the oldest of the old motor/tourist courts I’ve passed so far, the roof nearly gone, but with the chimneys and walls, the beautiful rock work still standing.
Late evening now, headed down the final stretch of busy highway to Bristow, along a parallel segment of old road, comes a fellow to greet me. He calls me by name, then introduces himself. It’s Richard from Stroud, the next town down, my destination for tomorrow. He has been following my journals for this odyssey and invites me to his home. Short of it, Richard will be hiking with me tomorrow, from here in Bristow to his home in Stroud.
A delightful day; a dandy ending…
Back to Top
Wednesday–September 6, 2017
Trail Day–042 Maps 107-108
Trail Mile–17.6/0798.7
Location–Stroud
Last evening I was able to soak my tired bones, then launder my dirty clothes.
Clean body, clean clothing, I’m ready to shoulder my pack and greet this day. Plan is to meet Richard at McDonald’s a short distance down by Walmart. Gayle, Richard’s wife, drops him off, and a little after eight we head for Stroud, my planned destination for today. It’s another blue-perfect day for hiking Oklahoma.
The Route 66 era icon to see here as we pass through Bristow is the Bristow Motor Company (Ford) established in 1928.
Just west of Bristow, back in the brush and weeds on the south side of the road, Richard spots the remains of an old tourist/motor court. Sections of the terra cotta block walls and the foundation are all that remain.
Along today, from time-to-time, on either side of SR-66 are sections of the old original pavement of the 1930s. We find one not fenced or posted and we enjoy hiking it for a ways.
Mid-afternoon we enter Stroud where Richard and Gayle live. Here, another old tourist/motor court, this one in reasonably good shape. Many with rooms still in service, like this one, now rent only long term, by the week or month.
One of the Route 66 era icons here in Stroud is the Skyliner Motel, with its beautifully restored neon-lighted sign. The other, the Rock Cafe, established in 1939. Michael Wallis (Cars), often frequented the Rock Cafe. The cafe belonged to Dawn Welch at the time. Wallis called Dawn “One of the great colorful characters” of The Mother Road. The Pixar Team was so impressed by Dawn that they ended up incorporating her as Sally, the 2002 Porsche 911, proprietor of the Cozy Cone Motel in Radiator Springs.
Evening now, Gayle arrives home from her position as interim city manager for the city of Stroud. She and Richard take me to Rock Cafe for supper. I’m then their guest for the night in their lovely home.
Another remarkable day folks–hiking this grand old road…
Back to Top
Thursday–September 7, 2017
Trail Day–043 Maps 108-119
Trail Miles–13.9/0812.6
Location–Chandler
I had a relaxing and enjoyable stay with Richard and Gayle at their lovely home in Stroud. This is only the second time in all my trekking odysseys that I’ve hiked from my path to someone’s home, stayed with them, then hiked back to my chosen path. That other time was during my LCNHT trek, Odyssey 2006–to and from the home of Jim and Selma Willems, Lewistown, Montana.
Not the sad farewells this morning, as I’ve been invited to attend a birthday party this coming Saturday in Edmond–for Richard and Gayle’s son and daughter. Edmond is my destination for this coming Saturday, so I’ll be there! Oh sure, right–this is all just coincidence!
I’m now headed for Davenport some six miles distant. I’m trekking no more than 20 minutes than here comes Gayle. She should be at Stroud City Hall–but here she is, taking time to find me, “Here are the hardboiled eggs Richard fixed for you. He’d be upset if he found out you didn’t take them.” She’s stopped in the road; cars coming up behind. Her hand comes out. I grab the eggs–she’s gone!
My first stop this morning, the little village of Davenport. Only seven miles to Davenport. Should have taken me way less than three hours–took over three. Heavy traffic, really moving. There’s no more than three-to-ten inches of pavement my side of the white line. Then it’s off to the ditch, some places at a 45-degree slope. I was off the tarmac more than on waiting for traffic to pass.
In Davenport, finally, I get a picture of their “Welcome” and “Miss America” signs, then head for the T&C Market. Patty greets me. The highway makes a “90” right here, but I’d have to go straight to get to downtown Davenport. I ask Patty if there’s a way to get back to the highway other than backtracking. She tells me there isn’t, but that I should take the time. “Our downtown is very nice. You should go see the murals.” says Patty. I tell her I’ll probably skip Davenport and hike on. She doesn’t say anything, but her look says it–You walked all the way from Chicago but you can’t walk another five blocks to see our downtown! Just then, in comes one of the locals. He’s heard what I’m about and we strike up a conversation. Don is the owner, editor, and publisher of Davenport’s monthly paper New Era. His wife, Paula, the co-owner, associate editor and publisher. He gets my pic (for an upcoming article–I’m told), and I get a shot of him holding the latest issue of New Era. Don also encourages me to see their downtown. “There’s a section of the original pavement, plus murals that depict the ‘Land Run’ of 1891. You should go see them”–I take the stroll downtown!
Back to the market now, I hoist my pack and bid Patty farewell. “That’s one of the old Texaco Stations across the street.” says Patty. I get that shot, too!
Interesting buildings today, a ready-to-fall-down old roofless place, an abandoned house, the Lincoln Motel (Route 66 era), and the old Chandler Armory-turned-Route 66 Interpretive Center.
Nearing Chandler, a vehicle slows, then stops on the shoulder across. “Want a ride on into Chandler?” I meet Philip. Declining his kind offer, I give him the short/short version (cars whizzing by two feet away). He’s impressed, wishes me safe travels–then thrusts his hand out with an upward-numbers bill in it. I hesitate, shouldn’t have–“Please don’t deny my blessing on you.” says Philip. I accept his kindness–as he quickly drives away.
At the Interpretive Center now I meet Courtney, one of the docents. She takes much time telling me all about the building, and Route 66.
Coming into town, headed for the post office to retrieve my bounce box I pass one of the original Phillips 66 stations. It’s obviously been given much TLC. Photo time.
I was hoping my new shoes, provided by John, president of OBOZ Shoes, would be here, but they haven’t arrived yet. Perhaps tomorrow. That means staying over, somewhere near the post office. I’d just passed the Bungalow Inn B&B. The kind lady at the Chandler Museum told me who owns it and how to find them.
Success! Nelda, owner of the Inn, and after hearing my story, sets me up for the night. Her daughter, Mandy, drives me to the post office, where I finally retrieve my bounce box, then takes me to the Bungalow Inn. Thanks, Nelda! Thanks, Mandy!
For supper tonight, Mandy recommended the Boom-a-rang Diner. Went right down there after shedding my pack. Very cool 66 era motif (but new) cafe. Pictures on the walls all around. The autographed ones are copies, but I’m told the originals (authentic autographs) hang at corporate headquarters.
Just a great burger, and for dessert, homemade ice cream at TJs right up the street!
Evening now, I’m settled in at the grand Bungalow Inn. Another blue-perfect hiking day–which I never, ever, take for granted.
My path has crossed the paths of some really nice folks today. Thank you, dear Lord, for one more dandy…
Back to Top
Friday–September 8, 2017
Trail Day–044 Maps 110-112
Trail Mile–19.0/0831.6
Location–Luther
The Bungalow Inn is anything but a bungalow. It’s a beautiful Route 66 era home, authenticity restored to its earlier grandness in every detail. I had the place to myself. Couldn’t resist the parlor, to sit comfortably and compose my journal entry for yesterday.
I take time this morning to go through my bounce box, take out what I’ll need for the next two weeks till I reach McLean, Texas–next series of maps, my OTC meds, more personal cards to hand out. I then do a thorough pass through the “bungalow” to make sure I leave it just as I found it.
I’m hoping on hope my new OBOZ shoes have come in this morning. Entering the post office, and as I drop my pack, the lady comes out with a box and hands it to me. Big smile on the gentleman’s face that’s standing behind the counter. I meet Reese, Chandler Postmaster. “You can try them on in my office.” says Reese, another grand smile. Ah, and they fit just perfect. Thank you, John (Oboz President) for all your help and support!
A stop at Boom-a-rang for coffee, then I’m on my way. More old cars. Is this Porsche named Sally (Cars)? Was there a Thunderbird in that movie?
Final stop leaving Chandler, Lincoln Farm Center. Nelda is the innkeeper at Bungalow Inn. She extended me much kindness yesterday–permitting a perfect stranger the run of her grand “Bungalow.” I stop to thank her, and her daughter, Mandy for their kindness to this old hiker.
Dennis and Debbie are touring Route 66. They’ve seen me hiking along and wonder if I’m the old guy they’ve been told is walking Route 66. They stop and come to the road to greet me. Just great energy for this old man. Thanks folks!
Just before Warwick there’s a gas station and deli, the Country Store. I order the roast beef sandwich. Oh yes, one of the best I’ve ever had!
Next stop, the Seaba Motorcycle Museum. The place belongs to Jerry Rice. He greets me as I enter. Really enjoyed the place. Some very unusual bikes. The first one pictured is a Johnson. Didn’t know they made motorbikes a few years before they got into outboard motors.
The waitress from the Boom-a-rang is headed home. She sees me on the road, then turns around and stops. I told her about my trek down Route 66 while having coffee at the diner this morning. Her name is Laurie, her two boys are Michael and Nicholas. They’ll have fun finding the snakes and bears on my blog.
Not much day left when I reach Luther. A really tough go, the 19 today, narrow road, no shoulder, crazy-fast traffic.
This day owes me nothing!
Back to Top
Saturday–September 9, 2017
Trail Day–045 Maps 112-113
Trail Mile–16.9/0848.5
Location–Edmond
In the pecan grove where I pitched last night, setting camp, I counted the rows of trees, south-to-north, then the number of trees back from the road–four and four. After supper at the nearby bar, plus time spent working my journal entry, it had become pitch black outside. Using my iPhone flashlight I proceeded to my camp, counting four rows north then four back–no tent! Hunting around four or five minutes I finally stumbled on it.
This morning, striking camp in the dark, and heading for the nearby gas station, it’s four trees to the road and four rows south to the station. I did sleep in my tent last night, but I have no idea where that was!
Coffee to get the old jitney cranking, and enough daylight now to head on west toward Edmond.
Folks tell me it has been an unusual summer for this part of Oklahoma. By now, the fields would normally be dried up and brown from the scorching sun. But this summer has been different. They’ve had rain at just the right times, and it’s been considerably cooler–my good fortune!
Along this section today I pass some prominent Historic Route 66 era landmarks. First, an old gas station that folks think might just be the oldest, much of the fine rock work still standing. Then, heading into Arcadia there’s an old concrete alignment of interest (and a pleasure to hike; quiet, no traffic). Then comes 
the round barn in Arcadia. Fascinating history behind both the old station and the round barn. And finally today, Pops, just past Arcadia. Not an era icon, as it was built in 2007. Neat though, non-the-less The main attraction is a 66 foot tall pop bottle. Inside the restaurant, on display and available for purchase, 700 varieties of pop! I look around, take a seat, then order, and am served a mighty fine breakfast.
This hike today turns to be more of what yesterday dealt me, narrow pavement, no shoulders, and high volume traffic moving heavy and hard, both directions.
I reach Edmond early afternoon, thankful to have these last two days of treacherous hiking behind me.
Here to get me right away are Richard, Gayle, and Richard’s mother, Katherine. I mentioned the other day being invited to a birthday party here in Edmond–for Richard and Gayle’s son and daughter, Cody and Ashley. The two were born the same day (like twins), but a year apart!
So, today is a joyful time for this family, a time to celebrate. And this old hiker has been invited! We all meet at The Heat Pizzeria, where we’re served Chicago deep-dish & New York-style pies. And indeed, a grand time is had by all!
Then comes picture time. From Nimblewill around: Gayle, Garrett (Ashley’s husband), Zoey (Garrett and Ashley’s daughter), Ashley, Hannah (Cody’s wife), Cody, Haddie (Cody and Hannah’s daughter), Katherine, Vickie (Garrett’s mother), and Richard.
And now, all must go their way. Richard, Gayle, and Katherine return me to the corner where they came for me this afternoon. They don’t want to say goodbye any more than I do. Richard has tried to find a room for me for tonight. When that doesn’t work, Gayle wants her daughter to come get me and take me to their home. What a sad time. I am not good at this–at all, but I know it is time to bid these wonderful new friends goodbye.
I shoulder my pack, get my sticks, and try not to linger.
“Some come into our lives then quickly go,
Others, to our side and there remain,
Either way, their presence strikes a glow,
And we are never quite the same again.”
[Nimblewill]
Back to Top
Sunday–September 10, 2017
Trail Day–046 Maps 113-117
Trail Mile–11.6/0860.1
Location–Oklahoma City, then on to Bethany
Richard and Gayle were very concerned about letting me go back to the street yesterday evening. I was confident though, and I tried assuring them that it’d work out, it always does, that I’d find a room or a place to camp for the night–that I’d be okay. Sure enough, less than a mile down Broadway, the Red Carpet Motel. Seedy, run down, my kind of place. Hiker trash cash always talks. A couple of twenties on the counter, I was in. A so-so room, hole in the bathroom wall, wastebasket under the sink for a drain. Comfy bed though, plus an outlet right by to charge my phone.
To reach my destination for today, downtown Oklahoma City, I’ve an easy, short day. So I slept in this morning. Then I take my time getting out and moving. It’s well after eight before my sticks are clicking the sidewalks of Edmond.
In just a short distance, I’m standing before The Heat. This is the pizza parlor where we all celebrated Cody and Ashley’s birthdays. Didn’t realize the place was on Broadway. I’m beginning to develop a short memory, but I remember the great time shared by all here yesterday. I lean on my sticks and linger awhile.
Coming into Oklahoma City, Historic Route 66 soon disappears under limited access. Leaving Broadway as it turns to freeway, I take to the residential roads, streets, and parks. This is a well earned (and needed) diversion from the highway madness of the last few days.
I could see the hazy skyline of Oklahoma City and the capitol dome well over two hours ago. I’m finally there. Two of my favorite places to hike toward, capitol buildings–and Wendy’s. Here I have both!
I’m touring the capitol by one. The grounds, the dome, the rotunda, impressive. But they’re just no match for, nor are they in the same league with my beautiful Missouri capitol. I’ve got the whole place to myself, just me and the two guards. No one else around!
Leaving the capitol grounds, I slide down an overpass embankment to 23rd Street. Here, I’m back on Historic Route 66 again. Neat era landmarks right away–an old gas station, the impressive Tower Theatre, and up on 39th Street, Ann’s Cafe.
Hard to believe, but I’ve covered some (sidewalk) miles today, and in the process, I’ve managed to put Oklahoma City in my rearview!
Evening now, and just west of Bethany, I stealth camp under the east old box frame bridge over the North Canadian River.
Back to Top
Monday–September 11, 2017
Trail Day–047 Maps 117-120
Trail Mile–14.7+14.3/0889.1
Location–Through Yukon, then on to El Reno
No folks, I didn’t hike 29 miles today. But I did pass two itinerary mileage clicks, Yukon and El Reno. Here’s how this mileage thing works: When I pass an itinerary location, I record the mileage (click) listed for that location. The mileage from Edmond to Oklahoma City is listed as 11.6. For yesterday I recorded that mileage. However, I hiked on through Oklahoma City another 10.8 miles to the old box bridge across the Canadian River. So, yesterday I actually hiked 22.4 miles. This morning I was on the road by seven-thirty, and by nine-thirty I was in Yukon, to finish the remaining 3.9 miles (that itinerary click) for today. After a stop at McDonald’s for breakfast, I headed for El Reno. I completed those 14.3 itinerary miles by three this afternoon. So, having passed the El Reno itinerary click, it has also been recorded. Then, I continued on out of El Reno another 3 miles or so, for a total of 21.2 for today. Passing two itinerary clicks today now puts me a day ahead of schedule. As I move out into the high plains, we’ll see if that holds! So, tomorrow, to get into Hinton Junction, I won’t have a 22.7 to hike, only a 19.7. Anyway, that’s how this mileage thing works. Following the itinerary clicks, recording them, I don’t have to worry about trying to figure the exact miles covered every day–when I’m too tired in the evening to think straight. Tough enough putting meaningful thoughts together for the daily journal entry–without frustrating with the mileage thing. Hope that makes sense!
This morning there’s a good stretch of the old original concrete pavement around Lake Overholser, with some interesting prints (man and dog) still remaining from when the slab was poured.
Another day of dealing with very heavy traffic, lots of 18-wheelers. Decent shoulder though, off and on.
Some neat murals in both Yukon and El Reno. Passed the entrance to Fort Reno, closed for the day. Don’t understand the stamp mark on top the concrete culvert?
I’m camped in an old shed for tonight–near the interstate again. Reprogramming to block out that noise.
Please know that I have not taken this marvelous hiking day for granted!
Back to Top
Tuesday–September 12, 2017
Trail Day–048 Maps 120-121
Trail Mile–22.7/0911.7
Location–Hinton Junction
Found a really fine place to camp last night, an old shed with half the roof blown off. Field gate was open, not posted, no more than 75-yards off the road. Soft straw in the end with the roof still on. I like these kinds of places, not worried about rain, but the overhead coverage keeps the heavy dew from giving me a soaking in the morning. Pitching under trees works just as well, like in the pecan grove the other night. Options out here in western Oklahoma are becoming limited though–few trees.
I’m definitely entering the eastern extent of the high plains. You see nothing but wide open spaces in my photos now, and I’m definitely climbing. Hey, if you’re rolling along this old highway on your Harley, you would never notice. Flat road, then a gentle rise or small hill comes along. When reaching the top, there’s seldom any down. Just more flats ahead, then an almost imperceptible rise again–and on and on. In Tulsa, I was at 722 feet above sea level. By the time I reached Oklahoma City I’d gained almost 500 feet, to 1201. When I reach Elk City I will have climbed another 700 feet. From there on into Texas, McLean, my next mail drop, I’ll pick up an additional 1,000 feet–to reach 2,860 feet! Yup, I’m climbing every day now.
Two motorcycle tour groups pass me today, headed west, 20+ bikes in each. Folks obviously love rollin’ this old road on motorcycles (almost always Harleys).
Late morning, this classic Pontiac pulls to the curb across. Out jumps this fellow. Before I know it he’s dodged the semis to cross all four lanes of traffic to greet me. “Are you Nimblewilly, you walking 66?” he asks. I meet Tim from Pennsylvania–and tell him that’s close enough–“I’m 
Nimblewill, and yes, I’m hiking Route 66.” He tells me his wife has been following my blog since before they left Chicago. They were hoping they’d get a chance to see me. “One place, they said you’d stopped in a couple weeks ago.” Dodging the semis again, I follow Tim back across to their car. Here I meet Kim. She’s excited to meet me. Right away she unrolls the neatest homemade banner and places it on their trunk deck, then hands me a sharpie to sign it! I get to look at their classic, a 1967 GTO–impeccable, just beautiful. There’s such boundless energy in all this, folks, just boundless energy!
The old highway showpiece today is the “Pony Bridge” across the South Canadian River. It was built in 1932-33 and stretches for three-quarters of a mile. Check the panorama shot. It was taken from the center of the bridge. Look at the distance to both ends!
Afternoon, I finish this day’s hike at a mostly ghost town called Hinton Junction. In my pics today you can see one of the crumbling structures, an old truck stop. The place pretty much went in the ground when I-40 came through.
From Hinton Junction it’s half-a-mile to Love’s, across the interstate. I spend the rest of the afternoon here, get supper, drain their fountain, charge my phone–and compose this day’s journal entry.
Another remarkable day weather wise–and otherwise, too!
Back to Top
Wednesday–September 13, 2017
Trail Day–049 Maps 121-122
Trail Mile–21.1/0932.9
Location–Weatherford
Before entering Love’s yesterday afternoon (new Hinton Junction) I took time to scout around and look for a spot to stealth camp. Saw a row of trees across the road set back a distance, easy to get to across a large gravel parking lot. Quick choice! What I didn’t know though–toward dark when I finally crossed the road, I discovered the trees to be ten feet down in a brush choked ravine. No place to pitch down in that jungle even if I could have gotten down there somehow. Luck would have it (good fortune–say the Lord’s looking out for me), the ravine curved away from the road toward the interstate, and there were cedar trees there where I easily disappeared. Only problem, the incessant noise from the high speed traffic not 100-yards away. Have learned to block that out though, so my night spent on the soft carpet under the cedars was most pleasant.
This morning I’m right back over to Love’s for a biscuit and coffee. Short hike and I’m back to (the old) Hinton Junction. Left turn and I’m headed ever west again on Historic 
Route 66. A hint of fall in the air now. Got my wind jacket on for the first hour.
Another glorious day as this old highway takes me by more neat barns, through wide open country, and past another “Little House on the Prairie.”
I’m soon at what remains of Bridgeport (by the highway). Just a ghost town now. Fellow pulls up beside me, stops right in the road–to chat, I meet Lavoid. He works the oil wells around. Tells me that 3,000 people once lived in Bridgeport; that it was to become the county seat. Didn’t think to ask him what happened. Then Travis stops, gives me a bottle-water. He tells me “That old falling-down building [behind the sunflowers] was a gas station and grocery store.” He also tells me there were houses all around [look closely at the pic–through the grown-up brush and trees]. Looks of it they had city water too (old leaning water tower).
Couldn’t resist taking a picture of another old Route 66 era auto. This one, a Pontiac (’49 or ’50 I think). It’s seen its better days, like a lot of other relics (this old hiker).
One of the longest intact segments of Route 66 in western Oklahoma runs for nearly 20 miles, from just west of the South Canadian River, all the way to Hydro. It was paved between 1931 and 34. Some asphalt patches here and there, but otherwise it remains in excellent condition.
West of Bridgeport now and headed for Hydro, fellow comes out from working his corral to greet me. It’s Joseph Whitebead, Native American, Sac and Fox Nation. Joe lets me take his picture holding his official tribal membership card. “I work for my family, do whatever they need.” says Joe. “Fields are mostly plowed now, be planting wheat soon.” Where I’m hiking today, pretty much tribal lands to the horizon. Great meeting you, Joe!
Looking south of Hydro, beyond the interstate are the “Ghost Mounds.” Some of them have been named. “Dead Woman Mound” received its name after a pioneer found a woman buried there. “Ghost Mound” was an Indian ceremonial site.
The old highway crosses two simple span pony truss bridges today. These are both singles, as opposed to the multiple (38) trusses comprising Pony Bridge crossed yesterday.
Afternoon now, I pass two old Route 66 era gas stations. Both had protected drive through pumps, the protection being a room in the living quarters above. One is a Route 66 landmark, the other, not so much.
The famous station pictured was called Lucille’s, for Lucille Hamons. The station was built in 1929. Carl and Lucille bought it in 1941. After Carl passed away, Lucille kept the station going and lived there until her death in 2000. Lucille will forever be known as “Mother of the Mother Road.”
Been expecting to, and today I finally see the first field irrigation system along Route 66. It’s called a “pivot” for the way the sprinklers rotate around the water source. For years I called them “roundy-roundys,” not knowing their true name. What this is–it’s a dead giveaway, indicating more arid country lies ahead.
Late evening now, and entering Weatherford, my destination for today, I stop at the modern-day Lucille’s for supper, before checking into the nearby Travel Inn for the night.
Back to Top
Thursday–September 14, 2017
Trail Day–050 Maps 123-125
Trail Mile–14.8/0947.7
Location–Clinton
Though I’ve a relatively short day today, I want to get moving early in order to arrive in Clinton on time to visit the Oklahoma Route 66 Museum there. From the interesting shot I get of the entrance to the Stafford Air and Space Museum, you can tell I’ve managed to get out early!
Weatherford, another Oklahoma City with a thriving business district. I head straight for the Downtown Diner. Interesting item on their breakfast menu–“Downtown Diner Trash.” This “Hiker Trash” goes for it; high octane for sure!
The interstate has come back to run with 66 again, bringing with it all the usual grinding racket. Everybody’s over there flying low. I’m over here tripping along pretty much by myself, save for two more Route 66 motorcycle tour groups. Seems they all know about the old man that’s walking to California. Everybody waves with horns honking!
Another “Pony Bridge,” plus another old truck today. Truck doesn’t look in all that bad a shape. Bridge, not so much; it’s been slammed hard a few times.
In Clinton now, I pass the Glancy Motor Hotel, and right next, the Route 66 Cafe. Tarmac has set to cookin’ this evening; bank sign’s reading 95 degrees. I head into the Route 66 Cafe to get a cold drink and cool off some.
Out in the heat and moving again, I hasten on across town to the Oklahoma Route 66 Museum, arriving with enough time to take a good look around. Here I meet Seth and Larissa. Both show interest in my trek and want their picture with the old hiker. I linger, get a few pictures of/in this really fine, top-notch museum!
I’m still dripping with sweat and very tired from hammering the hot tarmac most of the day. Just across from the museum, the Trade Winds Motel. Way low room rates, down in my hiker trash range. Suppers at the Italian Restaurant not a hundred yards away. Tummy full of spaghetti. Then a good bone soaking in the tub, and I’m gone…
Back to Top
Friday–September 15, 2017
Trail Day–051 Maps 125-127
Trail Mile–21.6/0969.3
Location–Canute
Never thought I’d ever see room rates so low. No sense stealth camping behind McDonald’s when I can enjoy all the “comforts!” A very quiet night; slept well (in a bed). And tonight, same deal. After trekking a near 22-miler I’m checking into the Sunset Inn in Canute. Enlarge the Inn picture here and look at the rate advertised on their sign–that includes tax! Oh yes, I’ll make it to Canute just fine this evening. Waiting for me–a tub full of hot water to soak my bones and rinse my sweaty clothes, and an iced-down Sprite (or Mist or 7-Up) in the refrigerator!
I’m out this morning just at the glow of first light. The outside photo I took of the Oklahoma Route 66 Museum last evening didn’t turn out well at all. So, this morning I’m right back over there to try again. Success this time. Some really fine shots of the lighted building, plus the outside displays. Much better, eh Seth!
A couple of Route 66 show places, the “Y” on 66 and Neptune Park. Great light for both these shots. Doing better with this 5s iPhone camera every day now. I’ve learned to watch the lighting very close. It doesn’t do well at all when the light is behind the subject, like for the museum building picture I took last evening.
The interstate is hanging right next the old highway again today, and both are climbing ever so gradually. It now often takes me the better part of two hours to gain the next rise, only to look into the far-distant haze at the next one.
Some interesting prints in the pavement today, boot tracks. The picture I took of a nearby culvert abutment is imprinted with the date 1930. The concrete for this pavement would have likely been poured around that same time. So, even if the fellow who made these tracks was only 15 at the time–if he’s still making tracks, he’ll be 103 now! Is that right, 103? Wow, these tracks have been around awhile!
In Foss now, I’m looking for an old 66 era building that housed a gas station, a cafe, and a bus stop. It was called Kobel’s Place. Supposed to be on the corner by the stop sign. I’m standing right in the intersection of Routes 66 and SR-44, looking in all directions, but I don’t see it. In the southwest corner there’s a dense wooded area. I decide to explore. And what do you know, here it is, Kobel’s Place. Though still standing, it’s completely grown over, nearly impossible to see from the road. What a discovery! I’ll bet even most of you Oklahoma Roadies haven’t seen Kobel’s Place! Wow, look at these pictures! The name is still on the outside wall. The canopy and gas pump hookups are still here. The floor’s gone in the cafe, but the roof and all the walls are still in place. Father Time is really doing a job on what Mother Nature has covered up. History here folks–I do believe there are faint whisperings coming from the shadows, from another time–listen!
More old rusty vehicles, three trucks. I just can’t walk past these relics, folks! Look–a Chevy pickup, an International flatbed, and a Chevy stake truck. All three, early ’50s I’d say. And all three hard workers during the Route 66 years.
Is this what I think it is? Yup, it’s a (dead) tarantula. I’m expecting to see them farther west, but not here. Funny story to tell you about tarantulas: During my transcontinental trek, Odyssey 2002, I met up with Dan “Sheltowee” Rogers, author of America, One Step at a Time. We were both trying to get across the southwest desert. Dan liked to “cowboy camp” (under the stars), did so neatly every night. That was until a saucer-sized tarantula decided to share camp with him one night. That ended cowboy camping for Dan; put his tent up, zipped it up, after that!
Fellas working along the road in Foss gave me some water, but I’m thirsty again. The Elk City/Clinton KOA Campground office isn’t fifty feet off the road–in I go for something cold to drink. Misty is managing the counter and lets me drop my pack and sit a spell. “Saw you on the highway the other day. Told my boss I’d be looking for you to stop in.” A “how-about-that” smile from Misty. She’s interested in what this is about. “Where did you start, where are you going, how old are you?” Fun conversation. Misty wants my picture. I get one too!
I’m in Canute a bit after four. Not bad for the miles hiked today. Interesting history here. Especially about the Great Western Trail, which I crossed coming into town.
Deli right across from the Sunset Inn works fine for supper. And the Inn? A solid one star. Kinda clean, kinda not, my kinda place. Hey, my room has a tub, hot water, an outlet by the bed, and the little reefer works! What else do I need?
Back to Top
Saturday–September 16, 2017
Trail Day–052 Maps 127-129
Trail Mile–08.2/0977.5
Location–Elk City, then on toward Sayre
Didn’t set my alarm last night. Slept in this morning. No hurry today, I’ve only eight miles to Elk City, the singular purpose being to visit the National Route 66 Museum there. I’m not out and moving till almost nine.
And not to a good start. Hiking out of Canute becomes right-away dispiriting. First, the old closed down Cotton Boll Motel, then a closed and abandoned service station, then the closed down Washita Motel. We all know what happened to these once-thriving businesses. It was the interstate; I-40 did them in.
On a typical day (back then) hundreds upon hundreds of vehicles passed these businesses, many stopping for gas at the station, or to spend the night at one of the motels. But that all ended instantly, when I-40 cut through Route 66 just west of town.
In my fourth photo today I’m standing at the dead-end pavement west of Canute. You can see where it ends right at my feet. You can also see the traffic whizzing by on I-40. And in the distance across the interstate you can see the old highway again. When I-40 opened up, Route 66 closed down. That fateful day marked the abrupt end of those businesses, and too, for most of Canute.
So, we go merrily on our way searching this old highway for places like the Cotton Boll and Washita Motel(s), like the old abandoned station, like Kobel’s Place, reveling in their discovery, giving not the least thought or concern for the lives of the people that, overnight, lost everything–and had their lives changed, forever. So, as I stand here at this deadend now, pausing a moment to reflect on all this, do I realize that fateful day was not only a deadend for this road into Canute, it was also a deadend in the lives of many of those folks. Yes, a sad, dispiriting time to start this day.
A change in the weather, a bit unsettled. It’s overcast and windy today, with an occasional squall off to the north or the west. I’m on the very fringe of it all–some quarter-sized drops hit me, off and on, but nowhere near a soaking, and the wind dries me right out.
Before I know it I’m in Elk City. Four-lane here. Fellow stops across, then rushes across all four lanes, followed by his friend. It’s Brent and Paul. They’re professional photographers touring Route 66. Great conversation, much encouragement for this old intrepid. Thanks Brent, thanks Paul!
Been having a problem with my iPhone. It keeps telling me my storage is used up and my storm cloud (something like that) is full. I tinker with it, delete stuff, and it’s okay for awhile. Then the whole ordeal starts all over again.
In Elk City, on the main drag, I’m hoping for a Verizon outlet. Dang! It’s right here–in I go. Joey, kind and patient fellow, has the problem solved in no time. He added 50 GB to my iCloud (had been my storm cloud) for ninety cents a month. “Won’t have any more problems now.” proud smile from Joey.
On out Bus-40 I come to the National Route 66 Museum. Lots to see and photograph. At the entrance desk I meet Maxine, Office Manager. I leave my pack and sticks with her, and take the tour, compliments of Maxine.
Gotta see the motorcycle exhibit first thing–an old Harley and an equally old Indian. The Harley is a 1946, only a year older than my first one! Worked odd jobs during the summer and after school. Saved up three-hundred bucks, enough to buy the ’47. I was 14. That was in 1951.
The museum is on the west end of Elk City. So, my hike is actually done for today. But it’s only two, with the overcast it’s a fabulous day for hiking, so I trek on. Late afternoon now, I stop at a jiffy for supper and to water-up for tonight’s camp. Tell you what: When I finish this odyssey, I’ll owe it all to Hunt’s Bros. Pizza!
Possible bad storms late tonight, early morning. I’d like to find somewhere to get in, just in case. Only place along, and getting late, I move into an abandoned, ramshackle house trailer.
No rain yet, but the wind is rocking the place. This entry’s done–I’m done…
Sunday–September 17, 2017
Trail Day–053 Maps 129-130
Trail Mile–17.8/0995.3
Location–Sayre
Got set up fine in the little boxy bedroom located in the middle of the trashed trailer. All four walls, the ceiling, even the jalousie windows, still there. Rain came at regular intervals all night, but I slept just fine–in grand comfort.
Heading ever westward, in awhile I-40 cuts through the old highway again. Just past the box frame bridge, I cross all four lanes of the interstate (one more time), climb over the fence, then pick up Historic Route 66 again on the opposite side.
At the next exit, a jiffy (sign says they sell tires and chicken). I stop in for some water. Grand sight, old faithful. Just enough breeze to keep her unfurled. My chest never fails to swell when I see old glory–ah, the wonder and joy of freedom!
Another wave of rain. Been lucky to have mostly dodged them so far this morning, but the one now, it’s coming straight down the old highway right at me. Fellow turns around right up the road, comes back, then slows to greet me. “We’re headed to church; sure would like to have you join us–give you a ride!” I meet Todd and his family. I hesitate, then accept their invitation. “I’ll walk; meet you there.” I tell Todd, as I hasten toward the church. A magnificent sanctuary, new and glorious in design. The service has already begun, but we’re able to enter and quietly seat ourselves–just as “greet your neighbor” time rolls around. Farmers and ranchers, mostly. Happy, friendly, hard working folks, all. I’m welcomed and greeted kindly.
The church is Trinity Fellowship; Minister Andy Taylor. His talk (not a sermon), a straight at me discussion about how God daily calls us, reveals the Trinity to us. Powerful–I dedicate myself anew to being more receptive and attentive to God’s presence in my life.
Todd and his family, and others, then invite me to their hall next door for a covered dish luncheon. Here, I’m again greeted and welcomed by most all the congregation. Oh, and am I ever dished up a heaping plate of food! Everyone finishes before I do. Todd goes back for desert just so I won’t be the last one left at the table. He then introduces me to Andy, their minister. (Forgive the blurry picture taken in the fellowship hall).
Outside, and before parting, time for pictures with Todd, his wife, Kim, and their grandchildren, Korbut and Khloe. We all know boys like playing with critters, but this hairy one? Check out the (live) tarantula crawling up Korbut’s pants leg!
Thanks for inviting me to your church this morning, Todd! And to you, Andy, to your entire congregation, Thanks!
By the time I shoulder my pack again and return to the highway, one more wave of rain has moved on east, leaving a cool, overcast afternoon for trekking on into Sayre.
Another fine community, Sayre. It’s somehow managed to survive the coming of the interstate. For sure, though, there were much busier times for Sayre, when Route 66 was THE highway, which passed directly through town. At that time, traffic downtown was so heavy (1939) an underpass had to be built to separate the school children from the passing vehicles (neat pics).
The Beckham County Courthouse, featured in John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, still houses the county court and associated offices. It’s been kept up and well cared for. Definitely a throwback to a different era, another time.
Ah, and more about the kind folks here, like Sharon, owner of Easter’s Motel, where I’m staying tonight. She stopped by to visit awhile, then she and her husband, Jay Ray, loaded me up and took me out to see some remote sections of the old highway few have ever seen–a dead end section (with trees growing in the old roadbed) where the bridge across North Fork, Red River was washed out. Here, another abandoned motor court and gas station.
Jay Ray and Sharon then drive me (over the good bridge) to the south side of the river, where the old roadbed now lies on private property. Ah, but Sharon knows the owner, Deena (many of these folks are third, fourth generation), who gladly lets us go down the old road toward the river.
First, another old car, early fifties Pontiac. A sad story behind what’s left of this wreck–that killed a much-loved local doctor. We’ll save that story for another time.
The remainder of this series of pictures shows the havoc wreaked by the flood of the century. Just an unbelievable jumble of busted and broken slabs of concrete, along with bent and twisted rebar, all that’s left of the old North Red River Bridge.
Thanks Sharon, Jay Ray, and to your longtime friend, Deena–thanks all!
Back at their little motel (and filling station/garage where Jay Ray worked as a youngster) these dear new friends make sure I’m safely in.
More waves of rain pass during the night–likely didn’t hear them all. But I remained comfortable, warm and dry. Jay Ray, Sharon, what a joy meeting you…
Back to Top
Monday–September 18, 2017
Trail Day–054
Trail Mile–00.0/0995.3
Location–Sayre
My iPhone 5s finally bit the dust yesterday evening while I was trying to send way too many picture to my webmaster–all at once. It’s scary how totally dependent I’ve become of this thing. My contacts (a large list of friends)–gone. My ability to send and receive phone calls, text messages, email–all gone. My ability to compose journal entries, take pictures, gone. Check the weather today–forget that–gone.
So, this has been a day of rest, sorta. A young man from the Sayre Post Office took pity on me, and during his lunch break drove me the 18 miles to the Verizon store in Elk City. There, I was able to get a new iPhone 7, after Joey drove halfway to Shamrock to get it. Thanks for your help again, Joey!
Two hitches then and I’m right back to my comfortable room here at Easter’s Motel in Sayre.
Yesterday evening, Sharon stopped by again to make sure I was okay. She had come from the hospital where Jay Ray had checked himself in. She was headed back there. More heart and respiratory difficulty. He was later air-lifted to Oklahoma City where he underwent surgery, with more scheduled for today. During all this, they both remained concerned about me, insisting I stay here at least another night.
I called Sharon earlier this evening. She told me Jay Ray has been sedated, given medication for pain, and is resting. Their daughters have come to be with him.
These folks have the dearest friends, ones they’ve taken and held to heart their entire lives. And one, now–for just a day. How are we to possibly understand how time binds all this up? Yet I know, to Jay Ray and Sharon, I am a lifetime friend.
More blessings this day, showered upon this unworthy old man. Thank you, Lord…
Back to Top
Tuesday–September 19, 2017
Trail Day–055 Maps 130-132
Trail Mile–22.6/1017.9
Location–Texola, then on to Texas
By the time I made it to Elk City yesterday, the Verizon store there, picked up my new iPhone 7, then hitched a ride back to Sayre, the day was pretty much gone. Both Jay Ray and Sharon had urged me to stay another night, so I did–the right decision. I needed the afternoon/evening to catch up on correspondence and write two journal entries. Jay Ray, Sharon, your kindness and generosity, much appreciated!
So yesterday turned out to be a zero-mile hiking day, the first since departing downtown Chicago 55 days ago. I’d been a day ahead, but taking the day off yesterday now puts me exactly tracking my itinerary schedule again.
I’m back on the road this morning just as folks begin turning their headlights off. Good timing! I’ve a near 23 scheduled, so I’ve got to keep moving.
During the early oil boom, many bars sprang up around Sayre. One of the more popular ones was Bert’s. And if Bert’s wasn’t open, there was always the (ice cold) beer shack right up the road!
Mid-morning, and a little over halfway to Erick I move over to hike an earlier (closed) alignment running along right beside. These old fragments usually last no more than a half-mile at most, but here I end up ducking under overhanging limbs for better part of two hours, close to six miles. Nice not having to worry about oncoming traffic for awhile!
In Erick now, I was hoping to see the Roger Miller Museum, but it’s closed today. But hey, Harley’s famous redneck place is open, so in I go to meet Harley, the ultimate redneck. More folks come in, and in a few minutes Harley has an audience to entertain!
More folks stop today to find out what’s going on, this old man with his pack and sticks. Riccardo and Anna are from Rome. They flew into Chicago, rented a car, and headed for California–on Route 66. They are absolutely jubilant about touring the “Main Street of America.”
I’m in Texola a bit before six. Right turn on Main Street and I’m at the “Wild West” one room jail. Old articles on the wall, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the James boys, their mother, Doc Holliday, and others.
Just up the street, the Tumbleweed Grill. Masel, the owner, greets me at the door. She closes at six. It’s six, but she invites me in, then offers to fix whatever I’d like. While she cranks up the grill again to prepare a burger for me, I look around. Masel is an artist, a fine one. I felt sure I was putting her out, what with it now being way past six, but she comes and sits while I finish my burger and fries (she cranked the deep fry up again, too) and I listen in disbelief at the fascinating story Masel tells about the walking rocks! Thanks, Masel, for staying open for me, I’d have gone hungry tonight otherwise!
It’s nearing sunset as I bid Masel farewell. Less than a half-mile now to the Texas line. Oh yes, I’m there just at sunset, to set this night’s camp–in Texas…
Back to Top
Wednesday–September 20, 2017
Trail Day–056 Maps 132-134
Trail Mile–20.1/1038.0
Location–Lela
A windy night at the state line, rustling the leaves and my tent fly. Quieting and comforting sounds though, not like the highway grind.
I thought I was totally in Texas where I pitched last night, but looking closer this morning, I think my feet were in Texas, my heart in Oklahoma–just a grand time folks, my 21 days spent trekking along Oklahoma Route 66!
I’m packed up and moving at seven, to what looks to be the makings for a fine hiking day. Another state behind me now. That leaves Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Close to halfway now, very close.
In a short time, a car slows then stops. It’s Masel. She’s on her way to Shamrock for supplies and has brought me two pound cakes and a hot cup of coffee. She knew she’d be passing me here on 66 this morning–so thoughtful; thanks, Masel!
And in just a short time again, a fellow on a bicycle catches me and stops to talk. It’s Rich from Miami Beach doing Route 66 in segments. Tells me he had been way overweight, needed to change his lifestyle. So, he sold his place in Miami Beach (before the devastating storm) got on his bike and took to the road. Looks to me like your plan is working, Rich–stay with it!
Oh my, and no sooner does Rich get rolling again, another cyclist pulls alongside and stops. It’s Simon from England here to ride his bike across America. Simon plans to ride around the world. He bids me well, then quickly fades to a tiny spot on the lifting horizon.
And the horizon continues to lift. I’ll gain another 200 feet elevation by the time I reach Shamrock today. The large oak trees are becoming fewer and farther between now, and I see what looks like a mesa or plateau in the distant haze.
More rumbling, but not from the interstate. This noise is coming from the old highway directly behind. I turn in time to see the motorcycles, probably 25, another touring group, likely from across the ocean.
Early afternoon I arrive Shamrock, where a retaining wall gets my attention. It’s sporting a long, narrow mural depicting each state (with a popular era automobile) through which Route 66 passes. The whole thing is alive with brilliant color, and the sun is lighting it perfectly. I take a picture of each state, in correct order east to west.
At the “Crossroads of America,” US-66 and US-83, sits one of the most famous of all Route 66 icons, the Conoco Tower art deco gas station and cafe–from the 1930s, which has been restored and now serves as a tourism visitor center. Picture time again–oh yes.
Inside, I meet Theresa and Denise, kind ladies who welcome me. Theresa tells me about all the restoration work, from the time when the owner planned to bulldoze the whole thing, until the restoration work was completed. In the U-Drop Inn Cafe, now (along with the Conoco Tower), National Historic Sites, Theresa prepares lunch for me, her compliments!
The remainder of the afternoon is spent at the Verizon outlet downtown Shamrock, as Connie (and my webmaster, Nikki) try getting the email inbox to work on my new iPhone 7. Finally, success!
Late evening now, I’ve trekked on to Lela, little more than an exit on busy I-40. Here waiting for me, Dave and Shawna Almany, folks I neither know nor have ever met, who drove all day from St. Louis to meet me and spend a bit of time. They load me and take me back to Shamrock, treat me to the finest steak dinner, then put me up for the evening in one of Shamrock’s finest motels.
I mentioned that Shamrock is considered the “Crossroads of America,” the east/west highway being Historic Route 66, and the north/south, US-83. Well, US-83 is considered “The Highway to High School Football,” and Almany, a high school coach, has written a book about it, entitled Prairie Blitz: High School Football on America’s 50 Yard Line.
I promise to get a picture of Dave and Shawna when we go to breakfast in the morning…
Back to Top
Thursday–September 21, 2017
Trail Day–057 Maps 133-135
Trail Mile–15.1/1053.1
Location–McLean
Just a grand time last evening with Dave and Shawna. And this morning, the motel serves a hot breakfast, so we’re right there at seven.
After breakfast, these dear new friends once again load me, then deliver me back to Lela where I ended the day yesterday. I get their picture standing where they greeted me last evening. Dave hikes a short distance with me, then comes that inevitable, unavoidable sad time–bidding friends farewell. I am once again left standing alone on the highway, looking back, as Dave turns their car around. They both wave goodbye–and are quickly gone. Think about the wonderful time, old man, just think about that.
It’s bad luck when a black cat crosses your path. What about a black tarantula? I’m hiking down the highway less than 20 minutes when this thing crosses the road right in front of me. Yup, I’m glad the zipper works on my tent flap!
Lots of abandoned gas stations today. Ah, but if they could all open back up, then sell gas at the same price as the day they closed, bet they’d be plenty busy!
An uneventful hiking day for the most part. On the old alignment right next I-40, only three vehicles go by this morning, both directions. The road is closed right in the middle for bridge construction. That’s stopped all but the locals. The place is barricaded, ROAD CLOSED signs by the interstate exits. I walk right through. But I do end up crossing all four lanes of I-40 in order to save quarter-of-a-mile.
I-40 has done a thorough job on McLean. Not the most pleasant village to enter. Closed and abandoned businesses–and houses. But there are a few local folks still looking on the brighter side. I meet one of them right away–Leigh, she’s manning the Devil’s Rope/Route 66 Museum(s) today. Leigh is a long-time local and is able to fill me in on which way to trek out of McLean, and what to expect as I journey on west. I take the museum tour; it’s free. Well worth the time. Some neat old Route 66 stuff. Check out the cafe!
I’ve a mail drop here in McLean. The place is open, yippee! Get my bounce box, replenish my OTC meds, clip my nails, load up on personal cards, then seal the box and bounce it on west to Moriarty, New Mexico.
A couple of blocks west, another Route 66 icon, another beautifully restored service station. This one, a cookie-cutter Phillips 66. These places were so small that the grease rack ended up outside. If you look close, you can see it on the far side of the little station.
A few more block, on the west end of town, the still-in-business Cactus Inn Motel. A very neat-and-clean, well-kept establishment. It’s managed by Vesta and Jennifer, mother and daughter.
It’s only midafternoon, but the tarmac is really starting to cook, and this is my destination for today. Very reasonable rates at Cactus Inn Motel, well within my hiker trash budget. Kim has just finished cleaning the last room when I show up. Her cousin, Lolly (Lolly’s Cafe downtown) also shows up. I move right into Room #12, the one Kim just finished cleaning. Then I order a burger and fries (and a liter of Sprite) from Lolly.
I’m in, feet up when Lolly delivers my supper. Great day, folks, just a great day…
Back to Top
Friday–September 22, 2017
Trail Day–058 Maps 136-140
Trail Mile–19.1/1072.2
Location–Jericho, then on toward Groom
A quiet, restful night at the Cactus Inn Motel. Longest night’s sleep I’ve had in awhile.
The cafe next door doesn’t open till eleven, so I head for Alanreed eight miles west. Going to be a tough hiking day, what with the wind. The panhandle of Texas is wide open country, nothing to stop the wind once it gets going, and it’s going this morning, gusts to twenty-five already.
Less than halfway to Alanreed a car traveling west slows down, then turns around and comes back–and stops right in the road. Folks are curious about what I’m doing out here. When I tell them I’m walking from Chicago to L.A. on Route 66 they both get out–and I meet Pippa and Guillem from Catalonia. A happy couple. They’re touring Route 66, from Chicago to L.A., having a grand time. Welcome to “Main Street America” folks!
As I continue climbing west these Great Plains are really opening up. Cowboy Country, large ranches, cattle everywhere.
In Alanreed, I come first thing to an old abandoned cafe, then the fine 66 Texaco Super Service Station, and finally, an abandoned church–all within two blocks.
By the interstate exit now I stop at the Alanreed Service Center/Old Time Country Store. The owner, Dixie Jo Crockett, welcomes me. I get to chat with her some as I enjoy a sandwich and fountain Sprite. She and husband, David, are locals, been married 56 years, have three children and nine (now eight) grandchildren. An expression of sadness as she tells the story of how her grandson was burned to death in the Texas wildfires.
Out and moving ever west, this old pickup and trailer (with saddled-up horse) slows and stops. I know who it is from talking with Dixie Jo. “Bet you’re the cowboy Dixie Jo told me about–you are her cowboy, aren’t you?” I ask. “My name’s Crockett, Davey, just remember the Alamo.” he tells me.
A short distance out of Alanreed the pavement turns to dirt and the highway enters private land. So, I’ve got to take to the interstate for the first time, no other way through. Lots of 18-Wheelers, and they’re moving. Memories quickly return–my last trek across Texas, eastbound in the westbound emergency lane of I-10, nearly 900 miles from El Paso to Galveston (Odyssey 2013 GAL). Pretty much the same now, except I’m westbound in the eastbound emergency lane of I-40!
To get off the grinder for awhile I pull into the Donley County Rest Area. What a beautiful facility. This rest area has a theme–Route 66. And it’s impressive in every detail. Even a mosaic scene in the Men’s Room!
Late evening, I’m still hammering the tarmac. I passed today’s destination over an hour ago, but I want to get as close to Groom today as I can. Forecast is for storms tomorrow, and I’d just as soon not be out here if that’s what I’ll be dealing with. So, plan is to get out early tomorrow morning and beat the bad weather. If I can, that’ll be good!
There’s a wind farm here. With the incessant wind, all the turbines are really cranking. Been hiking through them for the longest time, and they’re still standing both sides of the road.
Late evening now, the turbines behind me, another car headed west passes me, then turns around and comes back. “Would you like some cold water?” fellow asks. Not going to refuse that! His name is Greg. He works at the wind farm and is on his way home. “My wife isn’t going to believe this–can I get your picture?”
A huge thunderhead is building up to the northwest, and it’s starting to cloud up just west of me. Up ahead is an old abandoned grain elevator. Gate isn’t locked. Place isn’t posted–in I go. Doesn’t take long to find a place that’ll remain dry should the storm hit tonight.
The wind really pushed me around today, but I kept leaning the right way and pushed on. Likely hiked around 24 miles. Very happy with that…
Back to Top
Saturday–September 23, 2017
Trail Day–059 Maps 140-142
Trail Mile–19.1/1072.2
Location–Groom, then on to Conway (Panhandle)
Turns out one of the greeters (so I’ve met him) at Trinity Fellowship Church, is Sharon’s nephew, Eric. When Sharon told Eric about me, that I’d stayed at her little motel in Sayre, he told her he knew me. Sharon gave Eric my cell phone number and he contacted me. He’s been out to L.A., and on his way back to Sayre, he’ll be passing right by this old grain elevator. I’m up just as Eric texts me this morning. He’s by the gate to the old elevator right out front. We share a very good time sitting his car (that he flew out to L.A. to buy, a gift for his daughter’s graduation). Regards for me please, Eric, to all at Trinity Fellowship–and to Sharon and Jay Ray.
On old Route 66 now, headed west toward Groom, I hear something behind me. I turn to look, but there’s nothing there–except a picture perfect sunrise. Oh yes, got that shot!
The high plains continues to open up, to the horizon in every direction now. And the more I climb, the more arid the land becomes. The roundy-roundy pivots are commonplace here, irrigating all the crops.
By nine I’m in Groom, my destination for today. Here, first thing, another featured landmark along the old road, the famous leaning tower of–water! Like the other (really famous) leaning tower, it’s stood precariously like this for decades.
Another Route 66 era icon, the Golden Spread Grill, named for the boundless fields of golden grain all around, horizon-to-horizon. It was operated some 44 years by a lady named Ruby. Now named just The Grill, it’s owned by Larry and Karen. Karen is in this morning so I manage to get her picture standing by the register. Had her move just a little so we can see the pictures on the wall behind–of her children and grandchildren.
I got in just before the Saturday morning rush, so Karen has time to sit with me awhile. I find out she’s owned The Grill since 2009, that Ruby passed away three years ago, and that she’s good friends with Dixie Jo back in Alanreed. She reckoned the last time she saw Dixie Jo was at Ruby’s funeral. I made her promise to get over and see you soon, Dixie Jo. If she doesn’t, you make sure and let me know!
Larry is here this morning too, and Karen motions him over. Larry and Karen are locals, know about everybody. When I ask Larry if he knows who owns the old abandoned grain elevator, that I’d like him to tell the fellow I stayed in there last night–and to thank him for me. “I know him,” says Larry, “but what’ll happen when I tell him–he’ll just bust out laughing. Nobody goes close to that place anymore; it’s a den of rattlesnakes” GULP!
Just a mighty fine breakfast here at your place this morning, Karen! The rush is on at The Grill, so I move on.
Forecast was for the storm to hit last night, but it’s yet to arrive. Here in Groom, not eleven yet, I’ve plenty of time to make Conway (Panhandle) by this evening. They’re now saying the storm will hit tonight. There are a couple of motels by the exit there. One of them should work for me, to get in and out of it.
More old abandoned gas stations and a motel on my way out of Groom. And out by the interstate, a huge cross. Too far away to get much of a picture, but I did get a couple of shots of it from a book at The Grill.
A really fine morning for hiking on, overcast (early fringes of the impending storm) and cool. There’s a stiff breeze, and the turbines are in full spin. The whooshing sound made by the blades carries clear to the road.
Out of Groom now, the highway lifting to a pinpoint on the distant horizon, it’s head down–and haul the 16 on to Panhandle.
I’m in Panhandle right at five (took the I-40 eastbound shoulder shortcut to Exit #96). Right by the exit is the Conway Inn and Restaurant. A really nice facility, not new, but well-kept, neat and clean. Kind and friendly innkeeps, Pam, Jack, and Pam’s mother, Bonnie. Best value of any place I’ve managed to stay this trek. Thanks, kind folks!
Not 100 yards away, another Route 66 icon–kinda, the “Slug Bug Ranch.” It’s a “Me Too” attraction copied after “Cadillac Ranch” further west. It’s located next a long ago abandoned station and motel–a so-so gimmicky kind of place. If you gotta go out of your way to get here, you’ll likely end up the least disappointed.
The Conway Restaurant, it’s right next the motel. Very convenient for this tired hiker. A nourishing meal, then the short walk across to my room–to get my feet up and wait for the storm…
Sunday–September 24, 2017
Trail Day–060 Maps 142-144
Trail Mile–21.3/1105.2
Location–west of Conway, then on to east Amarillo
The rain finally came sometime during the night. I slept right through most of it, not getting up till after nine. There’s a Love’s the other side of the interstate. I head there for breakfast–at the Subway that’s attached. Never tried a Sub for breakfast. Not bad, though; scrambled eggs, bacon, and provolone cheese on a wheat bun, with a slice of tomato and a bit of leaf lettuce added–then toasted. No, not bad at all!
There’s a service road north of I-40 that I can take west to reconnect to Historic Route 66. I missed Conway coming in. Now I’ll miss it going out, too.
It’s well after ten before I’m finally pack-up and hiking. It’s an overcast, cool and windy morning. Got my wind jacket on for the first hour. Passing the Purple Heart Highway marker, the rain comes in again. Not hard, more a drizzle. So my Dollar General poncho goes on now, too.
Mid afternoon I come by a Peace Park, at least that’s what it appears to be. There’s no sign indicating what it is or why it’s here. I take the ten-minute tour, and become more confused. One thing I do know though–no organization should let our cherished banner become so neglected. Not just one, but three tattered old glories, disrespectful and disgraceful.
When the main runway for Amarillo Air Force Base was built, it bisected Route 66. And even though the base was long ago decommissioned, the highway remains blocked, fenced and gated. So, to rejoin the alignment on the other side, it’s necessary to skirt around the runway to the north and west.
On the west side of the airfield, where I’m able to rejoin Route 66, more abandoned stations and motor courts.
Late evening now, sunset in a few more minutes, I’m headed for the old Cowboy Motel and Cattleman’s Cafe. They’re the other side of the tracks, though, and a train of coal cars has the crossing blocked, and it isn’t moving. I wait patiently, then look up and down the tracks. I’m unable to see either end of the train. Finally, despite better judgment, I climb between the cars–safely.
Entering the parking lot at the Cowboy Motel, appears the place is full up. But I’m in luck, one room left–for thirty bucks!
Dinner at Cattleman’s then back to my room. Really tired. Hiked close to a 25, a really long (and late) day.
Be entering Amarillo by Mornin’ with just what I got on…
Back to Top
Monday–September 25, 2017
Trail Day–061 Maps 144-148
Trail Mile–22.6/1127.8
Location–Amarillo, then on to Bushland
Hard rain again last night. Woke me up. Sure glad to be in and out of it!
Do a better job of getting myself moving this morning–right back over to the Cattleman’s Cafe. An energy packed breakfast of eggs, bacon, country fries, biscuits and gravy. I’ll do fine on energy today!
Downtown Amarillo, lots to see. First, a professional restoration, a like-new Sinclair Service Station at 6th and Monroe. Old fellow, Bill, runs a used car business out of it now for his Nephew, Thomas.
And more Route 66 era vehicles and motels/travel courts. On the west side is 6th Street Historic District. The most famous old highway feature here is the “Nat.” It’s an old theatre that’s been turned into an antique mall. Elvis and Jerry Lee, among others, performed at the Nat. More old gas stations and motor courts, plus a drive-in.
The heavy rains yesterday and today have made a mud bog out of Cadillac Ranch. I zoom in for a shot from the road. Later!
You may recall, at the Fairlane Diner way back in Illinois, I made friends with a group of “Roadies.” Among them were Gary, Stephanie, and their daughter, Katrina, who live in Bushland, Texas, just west of Amarillo. Stephanie had given me her cell phone number and told me to call when I reached Amarillo and they’d support me. I’m forgetful, but not that forgetful. Oh yes, I call Stephanie this morning! They’d just returned from another trip back east to see the same friends. They stopped to greet me earlier, then came for me when I finished my day in Bushland.
Tonight I’m a guest in their home. I’m clean, my clothes are clean. In the evening they take me to Amarillo for dinner at the Blue Front Cafe (since 1946).
The rain, as forecast, came through a couple of times today to thoroughly soak me. Got in the miles I was hoping for there.
Back to Top
Tuesday–September 26, 2017
Trail Day–062 Maps 148-149
Trail Mile–36.4/1164.2
Location–Remainder of distance to Wildorado, then on to Vega
Rain again last night, but I slept right through it, guest in the home of Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina here in Bushland. Didn’t wake until after eight. When I finally do get moving, they’re waiting with breakfast for me!
It’s well after nine before Gary and Stephanie have me back to Bushland to resume my trek on west. I’ve a 20-miler to knock down to reach Vega (to get a day ahead again); I’d like to do that. And I can do it, as I’ve a short hike from Bushland on into Wildorado, a tad over seven miles. I’m there by one, my itinerary click for today.
Been an iffy morning, extending into early afternoon. Rain, more a light drizzle, both my windbreaker and poncho went on miles back. A chilly time, what with both the wind and rain.
A short stop at the Windy Cow Cafe in Wildorado for coffee, and I’m right back out again. The drizzle has stopped but not the cold wind.
Mid-afternoon, a bicycle coming toward me slows, then stops. I meet Chris who is cycling from San Diego to North Carolina. Much good conversation; glad you stopped, Chris. Then, just a short while later, a vehicle headed west slows as it passes, then up a ways it turns around and returns. Fellow gets out, “Are you Nimblewill? We weren’t sure. We been looking for you since Amarillo.” It’s Herb and Carol from Joplin. “Found out about you on Facebook when you were passing through our area.” Man-oh-man, is there great energy in all this folks; you can literally feel it! Thanks for stopping–made my day. Tell you what Bosephus, if I could play the guitar and sing, I’d give you a run for it. Neither one of us can hide behind these shades!
A little before six I reach the light in Vega. Stephanie, Gary, and Katrina are right here waiting–to lift me from this old road and take me back to their home for another night.
I mentioned previously, these folks are SERIOUS roadies. Not a whole lot they don’t know about Historic Route 66. And how serious are they? Well, they moved here to Bushland from California for one reason and one reason only–to be near Route 66. So, they sure know all the local Route 66 history. Ah, and now I get the grand tour of Vega. Gary takes me to see Magnolia Station, then to the oldest operating hardware store on Route 66, then the old road alignment through Vega, and finally, an absolutely delightful place called Dot’s Mini Museum. Dot passed away awhile back, and the place now just sits here, neglected, her children at a loss as to what to do. Inside the little (mini) building, a treasure trove of neat old 66 memorabilia. “Sometimes the door is locked, sometimes not.” says Gary. Amazing!
Back in Bushland now, it’s my pleasure to treat these dear friends to supper at their favorite Italian Restaurant, Joe’s Pizza & Pasta.
At their home now, its ice cream time. Then Stephanie gets her sewing machine out and repairs my tattered and worn old tent. A good hot soaking in their guest bathtub and that’s it for this day…
Back to Top
Wednesday–September 27, 2017
Trail Day–063 Maps 149-150
Trail Mile–18.2/1182.4
Location–Gruhlkey
Another restful night with Stephanie and her family; another great breakfast.
Gary has been called into work this morning. He’s an engineer for BNSF Railroad. Been with them over two decades. He’s an engineer now, drives the trains. Got a really soft spot in my heart for the Santa Fe Line. Way back in the 40s and 50s Santa Fe was running coupled engines that were just beautiful to behold. I had an HO Gauge model train set with those coupled Santa Fe engines. Wish I still had them, but they’re gone, just like my complete Lincoln Head coin collection. I think I would like to have been a railroad engineer like Gary.
And so, begins now that inevitable sad time. Goodbye Gary. Thanks for befriending me; thanks for your kindness.
No Route 66 Roadie is worth his/her salt without a “Roadie Classic.” Check out Gary and Stephanie’s 1979 Trans Am Classic–you gonna ride the road, ride it in style!
Gary and Stephanie are raising their daughter, Katrina, the absolute best way (in my opinion), home schooling. A number of families are using my blog and are having their children access it for home schooling. A bit of geography, a fair amount of history, and even some social studies. I’m particularly proud of that!
I tidy up my room now, get my gear organized, then Stephanie and Katrina get me loaded and we’re off–back to Joe’s Pizza & Pasta, where I walked out last evening and left my hat. I brace myself for panic time. Ah, what great luck. Waitress reaches under the counter, retrieves my Headsweats Hat and hands it to me. No way I could ever cross the high plains desert without my Headsweats Hat! A great Nimblewill sponsor, Headsweats. Check them out on my “Sponsors” page.
What took me the better part of the day yesterday, to hike from Bushland to Vega, Stephanie covers it in less than 20 minutes (on the interstate). Here in Vega now, she has some homemade soap she needs to deliver to the Milburn-Price Culture Museum. I’ve got time, and really want to spend more time, so I go along. Glad I did; what a neat place. As Stephanie meets with the museum folks, I look around. First, straight out of “Cars” a 1924 Ford Model T. Nice shape for being 93! Then something really got my attention, a cross carved in a flagstone slab that is believed to be a trail marker left by the Coronado Expedition! If you enlarge the picture of the article, it’s very clear and readable. Absolutely fascinating!
Greg, one of the museum volunteers today, shows Katrina how to run an old printing press he’s managed to get working again. She prints out a card that reads “ROUTE 66 ROAD TRIP 2017.”
During the dust bowl years, especially on Black Sunday, April 14, 1935, dust was blown into all the dwellings here in Vega. In the attic above this old building, which now houses the museum, the dust was as much as two inches deep. Greg gives me a card that contains a little vial of dust, which tells about that terrible dust storm.
Back to the downtown intersection now, Stephanie turns into the same lot where she, Gary, and Katrina picked me up yesterday. Pack shouldered, solid hugs–then comes goodbye time. Just a hollow, scooped out feeling in my gut as I stand and wave–and watch them drive away. Once again I’m alone again, on this old road.
It’s eleven-thirty when I finally get going. And I no more get going than its picture time, another rusty pickup from the Route 66 era, and an old service station. Then out of town, an idyllic setting–horses and a windmill. Gary had told me about an alignment that could be seen outside of Vega, north of the present road. Looking as I trek along toward Adrian, I spot one of the low bridges.
In Adrian, more abandoned and falling down service stations, one that also housed a cafe.
Adrian claims an important distinction. It’s the halfway point along Route 66. More neat pictures. The Midway Cafe is closed, a disappointment . Had planned my evening meal here at the Midway Cafe. Instead, I cross I-40 to the Country Store where I load up on Pizza and a sub.
It’s a little over four miles on to Gruhlkey, my destination for today. Rain was forecast for this entire day, but never came, and that forecast holds for tonight, so I’d like to get someplace, in case. Oh yes, what better than the abandoned Stuckey’s here in Gruhlkey! Easy enough getting in the place. I pitch on the floor by the ice cream case, the fountain, and the dining booths.
A fine hiking day, but sad, too–leaving friends. Be in New Mexico tomorrow…
Back to Top
Thursday–September 28, 2017
Trail Day–064 Maps 150-153
Trail Mile–18.9/1201.3
Location-Glenrio, then on to Russell’s Truck & Travel Center
More rain last night, but I slept soundly in the abandoned Stuckey’s. It’s ten before I’m out and hiking. Going to be a difficult day plying the eastbound emergency lane, I-40, as I hike on west. Wind-driven mist has reduced visibility to less than a half mile. Heavy semi traffic coming at me, the kicked up spray soaking me good.
Not an hour out, comes dear friends, Stephanie and Katrina. A joy seeing them again. Stephanie has brought me hot tea. It warm me and boosts me.
They’re on their way to Russell’s Truck & Travel Center to deliver an order of homemade soap. An hour later, on their way back to Bushland, Stephanie and Katrina stop again, so I can warm up again and get a warmup on the tea. Never tasted such good hot tea. It’s made of gun powder green tea, Yerba mate, stevia, and ginger powder. Don’t have any idea what these ingredients are, but the combo is super good. If this concoction was available at the jiffy fountains, I’d have to think about pushing the Sprite lever.
A short distance on, the highway drops off the flat plateau, down, down, and down some more, to the beginning (the eastern edge) of the high plains desert.
The cold, wind-driven rain continues all afternoon and into the evening. So does the heavy truck traffic, an average of ten per minute. For this seven-hour hiking day that adds up to better than 4,000 semis, and that’s in just the eastbound lanes! All this tires me, tires me completely.
At five-thirty (four-thirty with the time change at the line) I cross from Texas into New Mexico. From here to Russell’s it’s four miles. I can see the place from the state line. I continue on I-40 even though pedestrian traffic isn’t permitted in New Mexico. I’ve no other way to go. Route 66 has been abandoned from the state line to the truck stop and is now on private property. I am able to get a picture of an old bridge to the south–from the new one that carries the eastbound I-40 traffic.
Stephanie has friends at Russell’s, the day manager, Jerry, and Mark, Director of Operations. She had spoken with Jerry while delivering her homemade soap. They are expecting me and will permit me to stay the night in their (warm and dry) trucker’s lounge. Entering Russell’s, meet Mark right away. He shows me to the trucker’s lounge, then to their restaurant where I’m his guest for supper. While warming my hands over a cup of coffee, awaiting my supper, a fellow comes to my booth. It’s Brad, a truck driver from Alabama. He’s found out I’m a veteran, gives me money. When not criss-crossing the highways back and forth, he and his family enjoy spending time in the Bankhead NF in Alabama. They especially like going to the Sipsy (in the Bankhead). I tell Brad a bit of the history surrounding the Sipsy Wilderness, how John Randolph worked tirelessly years ago to set aside the Sipsy–and how I’ve come to know John. To his friends, he’s known as Sipsy John. Indeed, folks love the Sipsy. I am blessed to be called “friend” by Sipsey John.
I settle in here in the lounge, get a (complimentary) shower, visit the free car museum, then get caught up on my journal for today.
Thanks, Stephanie, for introducing me to your friends here at Russell’s! And thank you, Jerry and Mark, for your generosity and kindness!
Back to Top
Friday–September 29, 2017
Trail Day–065 Maps 152-154
Trail Mile–16.4/1217.7
Location–San Jon then on toward Tucumcari
The trucker’s lounge at Russell’s was nice and quiet last night. I slept soundly.
Jerry, the day manager, gets here at eight and we meet in the restaurant for coffee. We talk everything from our childhood days to Route 66 days. Art is the Museum Director. I get to meet him as he’s hanging a new picture by the entrance. Art is the fellow with the Russell’s Museum shirt.
I finally bid farewell to Jerry and I’m out–and right back into it. Steady rain, hard at times. And I’m still climbing. In the little crossroads known as Bard (another Route 66 era abandoned service station and cafe) the elevation is 4,000 feet.
Stephanie had told me about a fellow from Austria who’s touring Route 66 on a Harley. His name is Peter. He’s making a video production of his adventure. Stephanie said he was interested in talking to me about my trek. And this afternoon just outside San Jon, a fellow on a Harley slows and pulls to the shoulder across. Off goes the engine, down goes the kickstand. Peter has caught up with me! In a moment he’s got his tripod set, his camera mounted, and before you know it, Peter gets the shots he wants for his production. Check him out at Roadtrip Route 66.
It’s three by the time I reach San Jon, my itinerary click for today. I head for the truck stop downtown for dinner, as I dodge the next wave of rain. It’s four before I’m out and hiking again. From San Jon to Tucumcari it’s 24 miles. I’d like to whittle that down to 18 or less. Stephanie has told me about an abandoned Route 66 era service station around eight miles west of San Jon, so I’m headed there and hope to get there before dark.
Leaving San Jon, another abandoned station and motel–and another tarantula crossing the highway. Oh, and I’m still climbing.
Just before dark I reach what’s left of the old station, climb the fence and I’m in, to clear out a spot in the clutter, set my tent, and this day’s done. More rain on the way tonight…
Back to Top
Saturday–September 30, 2017
Trail Day–066 Maps 154-156
Trail Mile–24.0/1241.7
Managed to clear out a spot in the abandoned service station (ceiling completely down) to pitch my tent last night. Rain was forecast for late night, early morning, but didn’t happen–for a change.
I’m out and hiking in good order this morning at seven-thirty. Some shots of the old place where I slept. I’d say it dates back to the1940s, perhaps even earlier.
Oh, check the number for this hiking day. What better day to be entering this grand Route 66 city, Tucumcari, than on trek day 66!
The old highway soon dips further down, through rocky slopes and eroded hillsides to cross Revuello Creek. This marginal desert country is not used to day after day of heavy rainfall. If revuello means red, then this creek is properly named, as it’s running the brightest color.
David, the owner of Roadrunner Lodge where I’ll be spending this night, told me I’d be seeing many cyclists today, that he’d be one of them, as the race route is highway 66, from Tucumcari to San Jon and beyond. And sure enough, a little after eight here they come. The lead pack is literally flying. I’m told one of these riders is an Olympic medalist. They’re already past before I can get my camera out. This race is 100 miles. David expects to finish sometime around four.
With the additional eight miles hiked yesterday, beyond San Jon, I’ve a 16 to get into Tucumcari. I’m on the eastern outskirts (four miles out) by a little after twelve. With the interstate having cut right through the old highway roadbed, I’d lost track of its location. Now I think I may be on it–as I pass another abandoned service station. At one time the name of the place was painted in bright colors on the front wall above the door. But it’s faded and too far gone to make out now.
A convoy of old restored military vehicles will be coming to Tucumcari today. They started in Chicago a couple of weeks ago and plan on being in Santa Monica in a couple more weeks. They’re all members of the Military Vehicles Restoration Association. Got some pics as they passed, not anywhere near all of them.
In Tucumcari, there are many Route 66 icons–Route 66 Motel, Del’s Restaurant, the restored Texaco Station, the Roadrunner Lodge, the Blue Swallow Motel, and the Tee Pee Curio Shop, to name a few.
Stephanie had told me about Nancy and Kevin at the Blue Swallow Motel, and David and Amanda at Roadrunner Lodge. They all got together to provide a complimentary room for me at Roadrunner tonight. Thanks (again) Stephanie; and to Nancy and Kevin, and David and Amanda, thank you all so much.
In the Route 66 Welcome Center, lots of shoppers. I meet Martin from Austria. He’s with one of the guided Harley tours running from Chicago to Santa Monica. Three groups passed me today, all from foreign countries. These folks love America, especially Main Street USA, they just love us!
Eddie is the greeter here at the Tucumcari Welcome Center. His dog, Susie, also helps. Susie is the most famous pooch anywhere
along the Mother Road. Eddie tells me it isn’t unusual for folks to stop in just to get Susie’s picture. She’s well accustomed to posing (Eddie always gives her a treat).
Another amazing day trekking this old highway. And to absolutely cap it off, late this afternoon I get a text from my dear friend, Barry Riddle. He often came up to help at Flagg Mountain where I was caretaker, and we became friends. He knew I’d have a tough time, certain places here in New Mexico, and offered (early on) to come out and provide support. And his text, “I’m on I-40 mile marker 370.” Oh my goodness, he’s not more than a half-hour away!
I rush to the office here at Roadrunner to make sure they have a room. I’m in luck. No more get him set up than here he comes!
Check out the beautiful custom Odyssey banners he’s had made for the support van!
Evening now David, Amanda, Barry and I enjoy each other’s company at David’s favorite pasta spot!
Tucumcari tonight, folks–Tucumcari Tonight…
Back to Top
Sunday–October 1, 2017
Trail Day–067 Maps 156-158
Trail Mile–21.4/1263.1
Location–Montoya
A most comfortable night at the Roadrunner Inn. David and Amanda put Barry in the room right next. Just fine accommodations. Attention was given to every detail during their recent renovation. All rooms are like new!
First thing this morning I get a picture with Barry by his van–and the neat banner. Then Barry, David, and I go for breakfast just across the street at the Kix on 66 Cafe.
From my room, I trek the few short blocks to the light at 1st and Route 66, stopping along the way to bid farewell to Eddie (and Susie his famous pug) at the Welcome Center, and Nancy and Kevin at the Blue Swallow Motel. Everyone I’ve met here in Tucumcari has welcomed me warmly, with sincere kindness. Thanks, dear friends, all!
Barry is waiting patiently for me by the light. Ah, and first thing, is this not a fine benefit? I climb in the van, then get the grand tour of Tucumcari–the old downtown, the restored train station, the Odeon Theatre, and all the murals–while riding along!
Nine-thirty, back at the light again (and in the rain, again) I’ve my pack shouldered and I’m off to Montoya, my destination for today. More old gas stations (Whiting Bros.) and other abandoned and forgotten buildings, plus a mid-’50s Edsel. Know what that is?
Lucky for me the drear this morning is short lived. Out of Tucumcari now, the rain stops, the skies clear, and the day turns warm and bright. Looks like (and I’m hoping) this weather system has finally played itself out.
The interstate just west of Tucumcari has totally buried the old Route 66 roadbed, and save for I-40, there’s just no other way through. So, I take to I-40, westbound in the eastbound emergency lane. New Mexico law differs from Texas law as to walking the interstate. It’s against highway regulations here in New Mexico. I’m much relieved after two highway patrolmen go by and after a half-hour, neither has returned.
At two-thirty, Route 66 comes out from under I-40 to continue as a frontage road, and I’m finally able to get off the grinder. I’m so thankful and relieved. You’d think, this being Sunday, the semi traffic would be way down. lt is down, but not way down. Today they were whizzing by at only six per minute!
No doubt at all that this frontage road is old Route 66. A bridge I cross (with the familiar concrete railings) has a bronze plaque dated 1938. Bridge doesn’t look bad, what being 78. For that matter, guess I don’t either!
More abandoned buildings at Montoya. Roof’s caved in but adobe walls still standing. These are very old buildings, perhaps from the 1920.
Evening now, my hike completed for today, Barry and I head for Conchas State Park for the night. A fine warm meal prepared by Barry. Roughing it folks, roughing it…
Monday–October 2, 2017
Trail Day–068 Maps 158-159
Trail Mile–20.6/1283.7
Location–Cuervo
In Conchas State Park last evening, Barry found a suitable campsite (with covered picnic table) and parked the van. Then he started carrying things to the table. “What can I do to help?” I ask. “I’ll take care of camp. You go work on your journal entry.” he said. I told him I needed to get my tent pitched before dark. That’s when I noticed he was setting up a cot in the corner by the picnic table. “I’m sleeping here, I want you to stay in the van.” he replied with authority. Well, mother taught me to refuse such offers of kindness two times. After that it was okay to accept. I followed her rule, third time I accepted! So, I climbed back in the cab to write my entry for the day. In a while Barry called me to supper, a fine meal of hot vegetables and turkey sandwiches.
Barry has his van set up much as a camper, complete with a full-size bed platform. I had no more than laid down–that was it, I was gone!
This morning as I roll out, Barry hands me a steaming mug of fresh brewed coffee. Then I’m instructed to sit while he prepares bacon, eggs, and toast–along with more coffee. Gonna be a mighty fine day, folks!
Barry has me back to Montoya shortly after nine and I’m once again trekking west, full tummy, and in fine spirits.
Out of Montoya, first thing, I cross the interstate by an overpass. Now on the south side, in less than a mile comes a familiar vehicle. It’s Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina from Bushland. They’re on their way to pick up an auction prize Gary won (a fully packaged side of beef). They decided to take Route 66 instead of I-40 in hopes of finding me. Ah, and Stephanie has brought me more of her delicious hot tea. What a wonderful surprise! Oh, and they’ll be coming out to Albuquerque in a while for the hot air balloon festival–same time I’ll be there. Made my day, seeing these dear friends again.
Even though I’m alone here on Route 66, there’s more than enough noise and racket to go around, train going one way, the semi traffic both directions.
I’m definitely in the high plains (now turning to desert), and I’m still climbing the whole long day. In Tucumcari the elevation is just over 4,000 feet. In Cuervo I’ll be at 4,900 feet.
Entering Newkirk I follow an older alignment past some very old structures–an abandoned motel and service stations. At the main (only) intersection, there’s a business, still in business. A couple headed west on the old highway is gassing up their Harley. I fill my tank, a Snickers bar, a Sprite, and bottle water.
Evening now, and entering Cuervo, my itinerary click for today, more abandoned service stations, one that sold “COLD POP” and also housed the “U S POST OFFICE,” way back when. Barry is waiting here for me, to take me to Santa Rosa State Park for the night.
An enjoyable hiking day along this segment, little-traveled . A clear, cool day, but energy sapping–by the wind, my next of kin, the wayward wind.
Back to Top
Tuesday–October 3, 2017
Trail Day–069 Maps 159-160
Trail Mile–18.5/1302.2
Location–Santa Rosa
A most enjoyable evening at Santa Rosa State Park. Barry prepared hamburgers and tomato soup for supper. A nourishing meal; great energy!
Lots of folks here in the park last night, but it was quiet. Barry slept on his cot. I was again afforded the luxury of his van.
I wake this morning to once again be handed a steaming hot mug of fresh brewed coffee, followed by another of Barry’s fine breakfasts–bacon, eggs, and toast.
Back to Cuervo, Barry has me out and hiking–into a dead end. I double check my maps. I know this is the right way, and it is. This is an abandoned segment that runs for six miles, the finest example of passed-by, crumbling roadbed hiked so far. Many great shots of what was once pavement, but now no more than grown over two-track.
The only other thing out here that passes along this crumbling road–power lines. And here this morning checking them are Phillip and Cristobal with Farmer’s Electric Cooperative. Barry is here also, to bring me water and an energy bar. It’s an absolutely grand morning, so we linger, enjoying each other’s company.
The road here, before it became paved Route 66, was likely a dirt two-track that served nearby cattle ranchers. Reaching a far away rise, then dropping to a cove well watered by numerous small springs, I take time to photograph the remains of three old rock structures. The stone work is simply superb! Whisperings and shadows here, from a long ago time. What joy and sadness would these old ruins speak–could we but listen.
Evening, and reaching Santa Rosa, Barry is waiting here for me. He’s found an inexpensive room for us for the night, and a local Mexican Restaurant where we take our evening meal.
At the restaurant, a young man comes to our table to meet me. It’s Daniel, who’s been following my Route 66 adventure at www.nimblewillnomad.com. Picture time with Daniel, his wife Letecia, and their son, Daniel Jr. After they depart, our waitress comes to inform us that Daniel has picked up the tab for both of us! Thanks Daniel, for your generosity and kindness!
To our room, we’re no sooner in than the rain finds us again, another system, well organized, that’s forecast for days. What a blessing to be out of it tonight. Thank you, Barry, thank you!
Back to Top
Wednesday–October 4, 2017
Trail Day–070 Maps 160-161
Trail Mile–17.2/1319.4
Location–Junction US-84 (near Bibbs Ranch)
Rained on and off all night. What an absolute luxury to be in where it’s dry, to be off the hard ground and in a soft bed–with a pillow. Having support, especially during bad weather like this, makes such a big difference. A morale and positive energy boost for sure.
I hear our door open. It’s Barry returning from the motel office with a styro of hot coffee for me. That gets me up and (finally) moving. A stop at the post office and I’m headed for the grinder (the eastbound emergency lane of I-40).
On my way out of Santa Rosa “Where the Great Plains rise to meet the Rocky Mountains” I stop for a picture of the long ago Chrysler, Plymouth Dealership. Then a short distance on, the highway crosses the Pecos River. It was from this spot that the memorable train scene for Grapes of Wrath was filmed. Here, Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) watched as a freight train steamed across the Pecos River Bridge and into the sunset.
Ahead of me now, and for many miles, I’ll be walking directly on I-40. Since preparing my maps for this odyssey, I’ve remained in fear about this very place. There are a few isolated segments of Route 66 that still serve as frontage roads, but for the most part, and for great distances, the old roadbed is completely buried beneath the interstate. And in these places, there’s no other way to pass, save for the interstate highway itself.
So, today, and for this entire day (17.2 miles), save for a short, surviving segment of Route 66, I’ll be hiking west in the eastbound emergency lane of I-40.
It’s totally overcast as I venture down the off ramp at Exit #273. There’s no wind–until I meet the oncoming rush of semis. They generate their own wind! And they’re running heavy and hard today, five every minute.
Afternoon now, Barry tracks me down on the short segment of Route 66 service road. He had contacted Daniel this morning in hopes he could make some vinyl lettering for the van. That task accomplished, he headed my way to check on me and to make sure I was doing okay. An energy bar and a cold drink and I’m moving again.
Six more miles on the grinder, and 2,100 semis later (5x60x7) I reach my itinerary click at Exit #256. Barry is right here to greet me and return me to Santa Rosa–for another night at Route 66 Motel. A great (bit unnerving) hiking day…
Back to Top
Thursday–October 5, 2017
Trail Day–071 Maps 162-163
Trail Mile–20.8/1340.2
Location–near McKenzie Ranch (I-40)
Another comfortable night at the Route 66 Motel in Santa Rosa. I washed my clothes in the tub (with actual laundry detergent), then hung them in the room to dry. And this morning they are dry. I’m clean, my clothes are clean–ready for another day on the grinder (I-40).
Barry soon has me back where he picked me up yesterday evening, Exit 256, and I’m off to a cool, overcast morning. The highway continues to climb, the semis coming hard and fast, five a minute again.
Soon, the skies darken, the wind comes up, and the rain begins anew. Barry had given me a poncho he had in the van, and I’m glad for that. I dig it out of my pack and manage to get it on just as the skies open. The storm is short lived though, lasting just long enough to soak my shoes and socks.
Late morning I get a text message from Barry. We had no idea where we’d be staying tonight, but he’s found the perfect spot, north of the interstate on the Pecos River, Villanueva State Park, “Couched between high red sandstone bluffs…”
The sun has come out for brief periods this morning, but otherwise it’s remained overcast. Save for the soaking earlier it’s been my good fortune to avoid the storm cells that continue moving through.
Early afternoon, and in my zone (brought on by the repetitive clicking of my trekking poles), I look up to see two fellows walking toward me. In earshot, the taller fellow greets me, “Nimblewill, Nimblewill Nomad?” (These bigger shades ain’t working, Bosephus!) I meet Eli and Terry from Bryson City, North Carolina. They’re headed to Chama and were hoping to catch me here on I-40 on their way. “I’ve been following your journal entries and have enjoyed reading about your adventure.” says Eli. We walk together, sharing pleasant conversation, back to where they’d crossed all four lanes of the interstate. Before parting, I give Eli my card and ask them to sign my guestbook when they find the time. Thanks Eli, thanks Terry, 
great energy for this tired old intrepid!
Mid-afternoon, for some reason I glance across the fence to the south–to see an old Route 66 bridge. Somehow it’s survived the advent of I-40 coming in and taking over. I climb the fence to walk a short segment of the old roadbed.
I’ve managed to avoid the many waves of rain that have continued both sides of the highway throughout the afternoon. And my timing is flawless–reaching Exit 234 to be greeted and picked up for the day by Barry, just as the rain begins again.
Villanueva is a small Spanish colonial community that’s survived to this day. It’s tucked away in a picturesque walled-in valley, through which the Pecos River flows.
In the village there’s a little general store. Time for supper! Entering, we meet Vicki Rae, and Danny, the owner. Their menu features Josie’s frito pies and burritos. “The locals go for the pies and burritos.” says Vicki Rae. We go for the pies and burritos too; right choice!
Inside the state park now, Barry finds the perfect spot right by the Pecos River, a covered picnic table, closed in on three sides, just right for coffee and breakfast, even if it’s still raining. Just before dark Barry shows me around. Some good shots of the (red) Pecos River, the bluffs, and the pedestrian river bridge. A very fine day for later recollecting…
Back to Top
Friday–October 6, 2017
Trail Day–072 Maps 163-164
Trail Mile–19.2/1359.4
Location–Junction US-285 (Clines Corner)
Villanueva State Park was a great place to visit and to spend the night. Once again Barry set his cot in the picnic table shelter in order to let me relax in the luxury of his totally equipped van-turned-camper.
Last night was the longest I’ve slept for quite awhile, eight hours. With Barry’s support, I’m able to spend more time hiking and less time on daily chores. I’m now getting my daily miles in sooner. I’ve more time in the evening to write, and consequently, more time to rest and to sleep.
The forecast for today, cool and clear–and very windy, with gusts possibly reaching 50 mph. Yes, that’s not a typo. Forecast is for wind gusts in excess of 50 mph!
My itinerary click today is Clines Corner, Exit 218. Yesterday, I managed an additional five miles (toward today’s click), ending the day at Exit 234. So, that leaves me with a sixteen-plus to get on into Clines Corner. Should reach there early afternoon–easily.
Not a whole lot to keep me entertained out here at times. So, gotta go with what I’ve got. Today, my guess is, two fellows weren’t having one of their best days recently. First guy lost all his keys, including the ones to two different safe deposit boxes. Second guy (I’ll wager his nickname is Sleepy), likely an over-the-road long-haul truck driver, managed to mow down and wipe out an entire length of guard (say, crash) rail. Yup, not their best day for either of them.
By mid-morning the wind begins to pick up–10 mph, gusting to 15, straight out of the west. But the wind doesn’t stop the sun from working me over, though. Barry noticed that I’d left my sunscreen in the van. So, he comes to find me, stops across, then dodges all four lanes of flying truckers to bring it to me!
By early afternoon the wind has intensified to 25, gusting to 35, and the highway is really beginning to climb now. It’s totally exhausting. Barry comes again to check on me just at the right time–an opportunity to get out of the ever intensifying wind, enjoy an energy bar and gulp some Gatorade.
Mid-afternoon now, wind at 35, gusting to near fifty, and coming directly at me, I reach my itinerary click for this day. Thank goodness Barry is right here to get me; what a blessing!
He’s scouted out places where we might spend the night and has decided we might as well return to Villanueva State Park. On the way, and just out of curiosity, I look up the elevation at Clines Corner. 7,076 feet–no wonder I’m worn out. At Clines Corner I-40 is only 200 feet shy of the highest point on Route 66!
At the park visitor center, Barry introduces me to John Villanueva, park superintendent. And yes, John is a direct descendant of the founders of this ancient village. Much interesting history here; thanks John!
I’m glad we’ve come back to Villanueva again tonight. It was a bit of a drive but well worth it. Another grand campsite right by the Pecos River. Camp now set, we’ve time to take a short hike to the old Spanish settlement ruins, across the river and a bit of a climb beside the bluff. We no more get started than Barry comes to an abrupt halt. There’s a coiled rattlesnake right in the trail. It’s not as big as the stuffed one in the visitor center, but worthy of a picture or two! Reaching the ruins, there’s a wall, some stone foundations, not much else, save for the grand view across the valley.
Supper time now, we’re back to the little General Store, Danny fixes a large pizza for us. Another fine visit with him.
Back at camp, the temperature dropping (forecast is for the high thirties tonight), Barry gets a fine warming fire going.
A tough day on the grinder (I-40) today. The wind was wicked and the climbing very tiring. Glad to have reached Clines Corner. Trucker’s breakfast there in the morning then on to my mail drop in Moriarty tomorrow…
Back to Top
Saturday–October 7, 2017
Trail Day–073 Maps 164-166
Trail Mile–21.6/1381.0
Location–Moriarty
Last night was one of the coolest so far with temperatures in the upper thirties. Barry slept fine on his cot, and I was perfectly comfortable in the van.
We’re both up before daylight (it’s arriving noticeably later each morning). Coffee to warm us while breaking camp, then it’s over to Clines Corner for their trucker’s breakfast. By the time I’m back trekking west, it’s nine. By eleven the day begins warming nicely, so off comes the jacket. A bit chilly without it, but the warmth from the sun bouncing off the pavement soon has me trekking–hands out of my pockets.
Still more climbing west of Clines Corner. At the final rise before the highway pitches off, I check the elevation at N31.01252 W105.70737 – 7,112 feet. At this spot the road is only 100 feet lower than at the Continental Divide!
Two trailside treasures today, both keepers. A pair of pliers and an addition to my flatware collection.
Another long day on the grinder. The continual convoy of semis generates their own wind, which keeps pushing me back. It’s well after five before I reach today’s itinerary click in downtown Moriarty.
Barry had earlier scouted out the best place to stay (most reasonable). He chose the Lariat Motel just past the stoplight. Supper is right next door.
In 1926, Route 66 was rerouted from Santa Rosa to Albuquerque, bypassing Santa Fe, and this new segment was named Retribution Road.
I’ll be off I-40 for a long while now, nearly the entire way to Grants. What a blessing…
Back to Top
Sunday–October 8, 2017
Trail Day–074 Maps 166-168
Trail Mile–22.0/1403.0
Location–Tijeras
The Lariat Motel in Moriarty worked just fine even though the room only had one bed. I insisted Barry take it (as I’ve literally staked out occupancy of his van). So, after showering and charging my phone, I climbed into the van bunk and settled in for the night.
I’m up before first light this morning and can see lights on in Barry’s room, so I know he’s up too. We’re both needing our coffee fix, so there’s no time wasted getting the van loaded–and on to the local 7-11.
I’m pack shouldered and movin’ just before sunrise, a 22-miler ahead of me today, so its head down and haul. I’m fortunate it’s going to be a clear, cool one. Barry is out and gone, too, in search of a place to stay tonight. The annual Albuquerque Balloon Festival is in full swing, so finding a room for a night or two during my pass through Albuquerque might prove the least problematic.
Just this side of Edgewood Barry doubles back to check on me. Another fine day for trekking Route 66, I’m off the grinder (I-40), have a wide shoulder and little traffic. Doing fine, thanks Barry!
Afternoon now, Barry returns to tell me the state park we’d hoped to stay at tonight is an hour’s drive distant. So, we’ll have to trust our luck with finding a vacancy somewhere in Albuquerque. Completing my 22-mile itinerary click for this day, we head for the big city. First place advertises $41.95. They have a vacancy–for $120.00! Then comes a false start at another. That’s when Barry remembers Kirtland Air Force is located here (he’s retired career military). Yippee, we’re in; just beautiful accommodations at a very reasonable rate.
Supper is at a Wendy’s (with the windows busted out). Not the safest or most secure side of town–and I gotta hike through here tomorrow. Will project my best looking “BUM” appearance; always works…
Back to Top
Monday–October 9, 2017
Trail Day–075 Maps 168-171
Trail Mile–14.9/1417.9
Location–Albuquerque
The motel-like quarters for retired career military here at Kirtland AFB are right up there with the finer motels anywhere along the interstate. The room Barry and I were in (actually two rooms) had a queen-size bed. The other, a hide-a-bed couch that I slept on very comfortably. So, Barry relaxed and watched TV in his room. In my room, I adjusted the pillows, laid back with my feet up, and worked my journal entry in comfort (nodded off a couple times).
This morning Barry has me back on 66 in Tijeras Canyon a bit after eight, to hike it on down to Albuquerque. I should be hitting the city sidewalks before noon.
East Albuquerque, the businesses here–big on security, not so big on welcome signs. High wrought iron stockade barriers, barbwire topped chain link fences, even razor wire and guard dogs–all very common along East Central Avenue (Route 66). I’m not walking past open storefronts until mid afternoon. Many Route 66 era businesses, old motor courts, motels, cafes all along, a fair number shuttered and abandoned. Interesting–vacant lots where buildings once stood, easy enough to tell what was once there. The signs (many old neon) still stand proudly atop their posts on Central Avenue–in front of vacant lots!
By the time I reach central Albuquerque, on Central, I’m at the University of New Mexico, home of the Lobos. Ah, and I get my picture with their Lobo mascot! Appears to be, and I’m told, UNM is a modern, top-notch campus.
By late afternoon (after hiking six miles of main drag Albuquerque) I reach one of the most famous Route 66 icons, the 66 Diner. It’s an old Phillips 66 service station that’s been converted and expanded into one of the most successful diners anywhere along “Main Street USA.” And what good fortune, both the owner Tommy, and general manager, John, are in and I get to meet them. That’s me and Tommy at the table, and Tommy proudly standing at the front door. A pleasure meeting you both!
A few blocks further west, and by the I-25 overpass, I reach my itinerary click for today. Barry comes to fetch me and we’re soon back to our fine accommodations at Kirtland AFB.
Oh, I need to tell you–not the least apprehension or problem on East Central Avenue this morning. Spoke to a number of the street people there. Walking along with a couple, fellow asks, “You going to the bus stop, too?” Should have seen the look on his face when 
I told him “No, I’m going to California.” He stopped, stood there, and just looked at me. His girlfriend finally managed (with a contorted expression), “God, that’s a long ways!”
Another delightfully cool, clear day–and don’t you know, I’m the lucky guy trekking down this famous old Route 66 highway…
Back to Top
Tuesday–October 10, 2017
Trail Day–076 Maps 171-173
Trail Mile–18.3/1436.2
Location–Rio Puerco (east side steel truss bridge)
Another restful night at Kirtland AFB. I’m really getting spoiled, what with all the comforts of home–shower, warm and comfy bed, and good light to study my maps and write my journal entries.
It’s going on seven-thirty before we leave the base. In the distance we can see the hot air balloons rising. Seems there’s hundreds of them–but they’re too far away to get a picture.
I passed a really nice mom-n-pop cafe yesterday, Vick’s Vittles. Decision is to hit them for breakfast. And why Vick’s? Well in November 2015 Robert Vick was nominated and received the Food Fanatics Hero Award for his contribution to his community, the Air Force Airmen, and the Albuquerque Police Department Mounted Patrol. For sure, he could have justifiably given up on the neighborhood after being assaulted and burglarized 3 times. Ah, great Southwest style cowboy chow. Then Barry and I had to cowboy up (hats on) as Justin gets our picture.
At nine, Barry has me moving. In just a few blocks I’m in the heart of downtown Albuquerque. At Second and Central I pause to do a fair bit of reminiscing. For, fifteen years ago, almost to the day–October 5, 2002, I passed through this very intersection (north to south) on my transcontinental trek, Odyssey 2002. Let me share that day’s journal entry with you:
***
Wednesday–October 2, 2002
Trail Day–121
Trail Mile–2,682
Location–SR-314, Near Isleta, New Mexico, pitched in alfalfa field by the Rio Grande
I’m out and heading to Albuquerque on a clear, cool day, following old US Route 66 [early alignment that passed through Santa Fe] along a narrow busy state highway. The traffic is running hard and fast in both directions, and less than a mile into this eight-mile section, I quickly realize that this is going to be the long-feared road walk from Hell. The white line is painted on the very edge of the pavement, no room to walk here, so, with the unrelenting traffic, I’m forced to hike the shoulder. Here, the thick, brush-like vegetation has been mowed, leaving 8-10 inches of stubble, which is almost impossible to walk in. I stumble along for nearly four hours before the road widens to give a paved emergency lane. What a joy to get this behind me and move out again.
Things don’t much rust around here. It’s neat seeing all the old cars and trucks still lined up in the junkyards. Relics from the thirties through the fifties are common. I’ve even seen old Studebakers and Willys trucks still on the road. The sun has sure baked the paint off everything, but the sheet metal on these old jalopies is still good.
By mid afternoon I reach downtown Albuquerque. I walk right through. The center-city–maybe a ten block square area with mostly government buildings–looks modern and clean, but the rest of the place you can have. Don’t know when the city actually incorporated, but I’m willing to bet that the streets haven’t seen a street sweeper since that very day. Nuff said for Albuquerque. I’m glad to cross the Rio Grande and head on out of town.
The wind’s been beating up on me again today, hammering hard out of the south, but it isn’t the blast furnace I had to endure a month ago, and I manage the day just fine. By dusk, the traffic and narrow streets have given way to a quieter setting with irrigated alfalfa fields along. I turn down a dirt road between two of them and pitch by the banks of the grand old Rio Grande.
***
Back then, I could easily carry a twenty-pound pack with food for four days and two or more liters of water, and consistency trek twenty-plus mile days. Now, fifteen years later, I’m most happy and content with still being able to do the miles. I just can’t carry a heavy pack anymore.
Downtown Albuquerque is much as I remember it, beautiful architecture, clean streets, kind and cheerful people. My comment then about the rest of Albuquerque, about it not being kept up, is no longer true. The city is spending a king’s ransom on Central Avenue improvements, especially in Knob Hill and Old Town. I even saw street sweepers at work!
Many Route 66 era buildings are yet standing along Central Avenue, a few still in business. Across the Rio Grande, West Central Avenue, security is once again beefed up–stockade barricades, chain-link fences topped with barbed wire, some with razor wire, even electric fencing. Mid-day, bright daylight, everything’s fine here.
A little past noon Barry is right here to check on me–sporting a nearly flat rear tire. I take a cold ice tea from his cooler, then show my appreciation by hiking away, leaving him to mount his spare by himself!
Across the Rio Grande River, the highway climbs up, up, and up some more–up ten-mile hill. I’m breathing hard by the time I’ve climbed it. Reward? A most picturesque view down to Albuquerque and across the Rio Grande Valley.
By late afternoon I’ve reached the old box frame bridge across the Rio Puerco, my itinerary click for today. Just as I arrive, Barry comes driving up. He’s spent the afternoon at Firestone in Albuquerque getting two new rear tires. All four of his tires are new now!
Evening, and back in downtown Albuquerque, we stop for supper at 66 Diner. The place is packed, with folks waiting. A couple of seats are available at the counter. We take them and are waited on right away. More fine food. I go for a burger and fries. Barry orders their Tuesday Special. Tommy (owner of 66 Diner) is working, and though the place is jumping, he takes time to welcome us–and treat us to dinner, his compliments. Thanks for your kindness and generosity, Tommy!
Sitting next to Barry, a fellow (Bill) is supporting two of the balloon crews. Ideal launching weather is forecast for tomorrow and we’d like to see close-up what’ll be going on. Bill gets us squared away on how to find the best view site. Now, we just need to get up early enough to be there.
Back at Kirtland AFB I get a picture of their entrance sign. We’ll be checking out and leaving the base tomorrow…
Back to Top
Wednesday–October 11, 2017
Trail Day–077 Maps 173-174
Trail Mile–15.1/1451.3
Location–Correo
Last night was our final night of three at Kirtland AFB. Very fine accommodations. It’s such a wonderful thing being clean every day to start right off!
I’ve gotten myself up and going before daylight a number of times this trek, some for a reason, others not. This morning I’ve a good reason, a very good one–we want to be at International Balloon Fiesta Park to watch this morning’s sunrise launch. We’ve heard so much about the fiesta, even saw a few balloons way off in the distance yesterday morning.
The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is a yearly festival of hot air balloons that takes place each October. It’s a nine-day event, with over 500 balloons participating each year. Ah, and we make it with only minutes to spare. Wow, is this incredible!
We’re among a thousand people or more here to witness this. Right at sunrise, hundreds of balloons of every description and color take to the sky. Never, ever, had a photo op anything like this–absolutely spectacular. Just look at these photos!
We spend well over an hour watching all the balloons, all the people, yet Barry still has me back trekking Route 66 before nine-thirty.
The highway now passes through the Laguna Pueblo Indian Reservation, and permission is required to enter. Just past their 66 Casino, there’s a sign with the address and phone number for their administrative office. I call for, and am granted permission to cross their lands.
At the end of the pavement, where the road turns to two-track dirt, I climb the fence and once again take to the “grinder” (the eastbound emergency lane, I-40). What rush and racket now, the worst so far. Eighteen-wheelers are really out today, six to seven per minute. I push into the continual wind they create–for over three hours.
Barry has sensed I need a break, and texts me. He’s at the next exit. Going off the on ramp, and near the top of the overpass I spot him–and two other people waiting for me. Big smiles as Barry introduces me to Mathew and Andrea from New Zealand. They’re taking the drive down the Mother Road from Chicago to Santa Monica and heard about me at the Clinton Route 66 Museum. Andrea has been following my journal entries and knew about where to look for me. I heard them honking and saw them waving as they passed a short while ago.
Barry has his table (and camp chairs) set up for the food they’ve brought. What a fine party right here at the exit–thanks dear new friends!
Back on I-40 I’m looking for an abandoned stretch of old pavement to the south, and I find it right by and just south of MM-129. I climb the fence and take to it, a very well preserved segment of Macadam. Good photo ops along. An old gas station/cafe and two fine bridges built (likely) in 1938.
Leaving the abandoned segment at the ghost town of Correo, Barry is here to get me and take me to a campground down the interstate at Casa Blanca.
Some great road coming up next couple of days, no more “grinder” for a while; sure happy about that!
Back to Top
Thursday–October 12, 2017
Trail Day–078 Maps 174-175
Trail Mile–14.1/1465.4
Location–Laguna, then on toward Chief Rancho
We stayed in the Dancing Eagle RV Park in Casa Blanca last night. When Sheldon (park manager) found out Barry was career military, retired, he gave back the overnight camping fee. A kind and very special gesture Sheldon–thanks!
I’m up and ready to go right at daybreak; Barry too. The restaurant at Dancing Eagle Casino opens at seven. It’s a short walk from the RV Park and we’re right there. Good service, fine food. I’m ready to go for a hike!
Barry has me back to Correa a little after eight. Here to send me off on a cool, bright-clear day. The old highway out of Correa is a deteriorated washboard. Right next the shoulder is the best spot to walk, so I trek along here. Just past the BNSF overpass stand the remains of Correa–a few rock walls, some scattered foundations, all that’s left from another time. There’s not enough standing to even call it a ghost town.
Out here on the open range, old Route 66 is very remote. The few vehicles that pass me, mostly ranchers in their broken-down pickups, are moving ever so slow due to the bad road.
By noon I finally reach that lifting mirage of a pinpoint on the horizon, where Route 66 crosses I-40 just east of Laguna. By two I’m at the Laguna exit.
The Laguna Pueblo Tribal offices are here in Laguna, so Barry and I stop in to thank Marlene for permitting me to hike old Route 66 across their lands.
Today, I finally see my first antelope (for this odyssey), 25 or more far out on the open range; a sight to behold. They run so gracefully, so swiftly, quickly covering great distances. These vast, open expanses of high plains desert, dotted with buttes–grand mesas for their backdrop, are very special to me. The unfettered beauty, the comforting, quieting solitude–it is here in this place that “…seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day.”
Back to Top
Friday–October 13, 2017
Trail Day–079 Maps 175-176
Trail Mile–17.6/1483.0
Location–Chief Rancho, then on toward Grants
Our second and final night at the Dancing Eagle RV Park, and this morning, the casino restaurant. We’re right here, first ones in the restaurant right at seven when they open. Stephanie is the hostess again, Lynelle, our waitress. In such a short time we’ve come to know them. Both are of the Laguna Pueblo Nation. Stephanie tells us a little about her family. Her husband was career military, a Marine, now retired. Her stepson, a disabled veteran. As we leave, Lynelle wishes us “hutche tha ma” which means “Be Strong.”
A quick trip back to the New Laguna Post Office where Barry picked me up yesterday evening and at eight-thirty I’m again trekking west. Another glorious hiking day in store weather-wise.
In a short while I pass an Historic Marker honoring local fallen heroes of the battle of Khe Sanh. There are many; an irreparable loss to this community.
Farther along, more 66 era gas/service stations and motor courts. Then in Villa de Cubero, the fascinating (fabricated?) story about Ernest Hemingway. Did he ever come to the Villa? Did he really write about “The Old Man and the Sea” while staying in one of the cottages here?
And another fascinating bit of history–this remote little village: Vivian Vance had a place here (enlarge the photo with the pipe fence to see the octagon house). And who was Vivian Vance? Well, do you remember a popular TV series entitled “I Love Lucy” It ran from 1955 through 1956. Vivian played Ethel Mertz, best friend to Lucy Ricardo, played by Lucille Ball.
Late afternoon now, in my “zone,” a car coming down the road toward me slows and stops. “Be careful, there’s a rattlesnake in the road back there!” Lady nods in an expression of caution–and is gone. Sure enough, a quarter-mile on, there it is, a western diamondback (coontail) rattler. Not the least threat though. Someone has shot it!
Late evening, 18 miles behind me for this day, Barry comes for me. He’s interested in exploring the nearby El Malpais National Monument. There’s still plenty of daylight remaining, so off we go.
Entering the “River of Fire” valley (volcanic rock flow) the angular evening sunlight is casting its magic glow across the shear sandstone bluffs. Picture time, oh yes! Then on we go, climbing, and climbing some more–to the La Ventana Natural Arch. The sun is now near setting, yet its lingering brightness completely lights the arch. We could not have gotten here at a more perfect time. Check out these shots!
Here, also enjoying the evening solitude, Mike and Shelly from Grants. Enjoyable conversation. Barry loans me his Harley vest so I can pose with them by their “trike.”
Late evening, we’re in Grants, the Southwest Motel. Been my lucky day, Friday the 13th!
Back to Top
Saturday–October 14, 2017
Trail Day–080 Map 176
Trail Mile–14.3/1497.3
Location–Grants, then on toward Prewitt
A very noisy night, the BNSF trains running steady, with as high as six locomotives pulling the cars up toward the Continental Divide. Barry and I are both up before seven. I’ve a short hike today, only 14.3 miles, and I’ve already got four miles of that behind me.
The highway into Grants passes through the El Malpais (badlands) lava beds, a moon-scape appearing place. Along the way toward Grants a truck turns around and returns to the shoulder right next–and I meet Mary Jean from San Fidel. She offers me a ride to Grants. It takes telling my short story (getting longer by the day) for her to understand why I’m walking. More old 66 era cars and trucks to photograph this morning–just can’t pass them up!
Noon, I’m in Grants. A trip to the Wells Fargo Bank, then Barry comes for me. We visit the New Mexico Mining Museum where we meet Terry, a uranium miner for thirty years. He tells us about the fascinating mining operations, the early people of the region (Acoma and Zuni), and a bit of history about the old stone and adobe structures I’ve been photographing.
The young folks working the welcome desk have found out about my Route 66 trek and they want their picture with me. Just a grand museum, complete with an underground mine. Well worth the visit–thanks, Terry!
Mid afternoon, I decide to hike another two hours (six miles). Evening, Barry comes for me. We’re both ready for some BBQ. There’s a fine place on the way back to our motel in Grants.
Another grand hiking day, cool and clear. Windy though. Gotta get used to the wind out here. Not a happy time or place for you, otherwise!
I think the motorcycle tours are about done for this season. Last one to pass me was three days ago. Probably not a good time to be coming out of Chicago on a motorcycle…
Back to Top
Sunday–October 15, 2017
Trail Day–081 Maps 177-178
Trail Mile–20.0/1517.3
Location–Prewitt, then on toward Six-Mile Canyon (Cibola NF)
Fortunate to have been in last night–got down to 27 degrees!
This morning, driving through Grants headed for McDonald’s for breakfast, Barry pulls into the Grants Route 66 arch in their city park. Wanted to get this photo yesterday but the park was packed–annual Route 66 Fall Festival, and the arch was blocked off. No one around this Sunday morning, though, but us!
Grants was my itinerary click for yesterday, but arriving early, I decided to hike on a few more miles. Barry then picked me up near Toltec, west of Grants. So, back to near Toltec he takes me this morning.
A very cold day to start, temperature still hovering around freezing. Lucky for me it’s completely calm. I’ve the sweatshirt on that Barry loaned me–under my flimsy-thin windbreak (the hood up). Sticks under my arm, hands in my pockets, I trek along like this the first two hours.
By ten the sun is warming things nicely and I’m able to remove my windbreak and the sweatshirt. I’m moving along now, digging my sticks in when I come to an old Indian trading post, long ago closed down and now abandoned. Some chipped and faded hand painted art between the windows and doors catches my attention. There’s a warrior in war paint clutching a tomahawk, an Indian lad playing with hoops, a squaw stirring meal in a bowl, and a young Navajo maiden weaving a rug or blanket. These fine small murals deserve to be saved–but alas.
Just a short distance on, another trading post. This one advertising “PARADISE ACRES – $100.00 DOWN – TERMS” and on the front of the building, “RATTLE SN????”
A bit further along I come to a wood-frame (shack-like) structure with a sign reading “SWAP MEET 66.” Looks of it–been awhile since the last swap meet!
My itinerary click today is a wide spot in the road called Prewitt. Here I enter the Navajo Indian Reservation. I’ve hiked around 15 miles (was already 5 up on today’s 20). It’s still early afternoon, a perfect hiking day, so I continue for another seven miles. I end the day east of the Continental Divide at MM-9. Barry is right here to lift me from old 66, to take me to the campground at Blue Lake, a short distance south of Prewitt. Here, I find he’d set camp earlier today–tent pitched, Coleman stove at the ready on the picnic table, and firewood placed in the fire ring…
Back to Top
Monday–October 16, 2017
Trail Day–082 Maps 178-179
Trail Mile–23.3/1540.6
Location–Six-Mile Canyon (Cibola NF), then on toward Gallup
Another cold night–Barry in his tent all wrapped up on his cot, me in the van all wrapped up on the bunk.
We’re both up before sunrise. Barry gets the fire going then prepares coffee. He has all the fixings for a fine breakfast, but it’s just too cold, even to sit around the fire. So we hastily break camp, load up, and head for Lil’s Diner in Thoreau, near where I’ll be resuming my hike this morning. On our way we pass a pond covered completely over with ice.
A fine hot breakfast, sitting a table in a warm and comfortable cafe–much better on this cold, cold morning!
Same kind of start as yesterday, I’m bundled up, hood up, poles under my arm and hands in my pockets.
The highway continues to climb today, but not for a whole lot longer, as I’m now nearing the Continental Divide. By noon I’m standing at the sign on the Divide.
Continuing west from here, I must once again take to the “grinder” (westbound in the eastbound emergency lane of I-40). I’m back on here for a long and difficult 11 miles. The emergency lane is much narrower than usual and sharp-sloping. So I must hike below the pavement in the rutted gravel. At one point the old 66 pavement has managed to survive where it weaves down a narrow ravine. Here, there’s a faded sign painted of the face of a roadside boulder “CONTINENTAL DIVIDE 7 M – CAFE – SCHOOL.” Barry is waiting for me at Exit #36 where the old highway comes out from under the interstate to continue as a frontage road on the north side.
He’s set camp for us at Red Rock State Park near Gallup, but first things first–supper at the neat mom-n-pop Railroad Cafe in east Gallup.
Back to Top
Tuesday–October 17, 2017
Trail Day–083 Maps 179-181
Trail Mile–18.5/1559.1
Location–Gallup, then on toward Lupton, Arizona
Red Rock Park is not only a fine facility, it’s also a remarkable value–camp space with a picnic table, fire ring, and a heated bathhouse–eleven bucks! And the park is located just off Route 66 less than ten minutes from downtown Gallup. Oh yes, we’ll be right back here again tonight.
Seven, I wake to a tap on the van door. I rise up, one eye open, to reach for the steaming hot mug of coffee Barry has prepared for me. Getting dressed and straightening the bunk, the van door opens again. This time I’m handed a fine breakfast of fried eggs (with laces), toast and cheese, a warm Danish–and a warm-up on my coffee!
Another chilly morning as Barry delivers me to my starting point for today, twelve or so miles east of Gallup. I’m again layered up, hiking shirt, sweatshirt, and windbreak (with hood up). By nine-thirty the day has become another perfect one for hiking Route 66–high sixties, no wind, little traffic, and enough shoulder not to fret the moderate bit of traffic.
A little after eleven I enter the eastern outskirts of Gallup. Hiking past the Gallup Highway Patrol Post, I pause, then decide to go in and express my appreciation for having had clear passage along the many miles of I-40 (pedestrians are not generally allowed on limited access highways in New Mexico).
Entering, I’m greeted by Erika, the post’s receptions. She listens attentively as express my appreciation, as I ask her to extend my thanks to the officers. The conversation then turns to my trek from Chicago to Los Angeles. “I just returned from Chicago.” says Erika. “My 18-year-old son, John Ryan, just completed basic training there–on the Navy’s 242nd birthday [1775].” Erika is very proud of her son, and well she should be. She shows me pictures taken at the ceremony.
Back on the highway, comes the first of many, many Indian trading posts. I hit this one, then pass by all the rest, fearful I’ll not be able to resist buying something. I simply love Indian jewelry, especially the exquisite turquoise and silver bracelets designed and created by the Navajo master silver smiths.
Gallup is a clean, very modern, well-kept city. It’s really strung out, though–all the new establishments to the east, the old downtown to the west. Some abandoned motels and stations, but also many of both that are thriving.
I was told many times not to miss the historic old El Rancho Hotel here in Gallup, and am I ever glad I stopped in. I’ll let the pictures tell this story; just a grand old hotel!
A little further west and in the old downtown proper, the Gallup – McKinley County Visitors Center. Jerry McClanahan “Mr. Route 66” had told me about the neon artwork he’d created for the Center here in Gallup, so I especially wanted to see it.
The Center is open, and I enter to meet Brad, Chamber Membership Director. Talking about Jerry’s Route 66 sign, I mention that the faded plexiglass makes it hard to see. “You can see it much better at night when the neon is lit up.” says Brad. Too bad I won’t get to see your sign at night, Jerry. I did get a picture, but it’s no a very good one–oh well, reason enough to come back again sometime.
The Gallup Rex Historical Museum is open. Looks interesting, so I take the time. Virgil is behind the glass cases and greets me with that friendly Native America smile I’m now seeing so often. Much of interest here. Need more time to take it all in, but alas, the pier in Santa Monica beckons.
Out and trekking ever west once more, comes this car to the shoulder and stops. It’s Daryl, Widya, and their son, Adji, from Indonesia. They’d found out about me, and had seen me, clear back in Tucumcari. “When we passed you just now, [said Daryl] I told Widya, ‘That’s the hiker!'” They’ve been touring the United States and are now traveling Route 66. I welcome them, tell them I’m proud to be an American–and wish them well.
Earlier this afternoon, while I was enjoying a Frosty (soft ice cream) at Wendy’s, I’d sent a text to Barry letting him know I should be six miles past the last Gallup exit at around five-thirty. Five-thirty, he’s right here to get me and return me to our campsite at Red Rock Park.
I lollygagged a bunch today but still made it all the way through Gallup–and logged some miles in the process…
Back to Top
Wednesday–October 18, 2017
Trail Day–084 Maps 181-182
Trail Mile–21.6/1580.7
Location–Lupton, then on toward Sanders
Our final night in Red Rock Park. Barry returns the bathhouse key, then shows me Church Rock. He climbed it yesterday as far as he could. It’s a most impressive pinnacle–reminds me somewhat of Weaver’s Needle in the Superstitions.
We’re soon out and on our way–to McDonald’s. While enjoying our biscuits and coffee, we strike up a conversation with White Silver, a member of both the Navajo and Pawnee Nations. He’s retired military, Green Beret. A most interesting gentleman. A number of truisms from White Silver, like “Your journey is measured by the times you rest, tell your story, and repair your moccasins.”
My day ended yesterday west of Gallup, and Barry has me right back there to begin this day. Shaping to be another great one for trekking Route 66.
Mid-afternoon I reach MM-0. Here I end my journey across New Mexico–only to begin anew, across Arizona, as I enter the Navajo Indian Reservation. That’s six states behind me now, two more to go–Arizona and California. I’m so thankful I’ve had wide, safe passage. Angels surely rest both my shoulders…
Back to Top
Thursday–October 19, 2017
Trail Day–085 Maps 183-184
Trail Mile–18.7/1599.4
Location–Sanders, then on to Chambers
We stayed in one of the (very) inexpensive motels on the west side of Gallup last night. I’ve been logging some decent-mile days, so Barry had a bit of a drive to get me back hiking again this morning.
A cool day to begin, and cloudy, then some rain but for only a short while. The interstate is staying right up tight against the old highway, so there’s not the least peace and quiet, not with the constant rush of 18-wheelers grinding in both directions. The incessant clamor tends to wear on you. Ah, but a short reprieve today, though, as I-40 moves away to take a shortcut to the southwest toward Sanders. There’s still local traffic passing, that noise, but nowhere near the continual racket of the interstate.
On this section, Route 66 has turned to dirt, and in a short while it crosses Querino Canyon on an old through-truss bridge turned upside down; a strange-appearing structure when viewed from the side.
Barry stops to check on me four times today. Each time–a good reason to take a short break, have a snack and a drink. His support for me, for this trek, truly a blessing!
Not uncommon for Route 66 (when serving as a frontage road) to go a ways, then just quit. When this happens and there’s no alternate, I’ve no choice but to walk the interstate. Had to do that today for a short time and there’s sure more to come. I hope the Arizona State Police treat me as kind as those in New Mexico who looked the other way. Pedestrians are not permitted on Interstate highways in Arizona.
“There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stand still,
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest,
For theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.”
Back to Top
Friday–October 20, 2017
Trail Day–086 Maps 184-185
Trail Mile–16.8/1616.2
Location–Navajo, then on toward Petrified Forest National Park
A real breakfast came with our room. So a little after seven to the restaurant we go. And what a fine breakfast (good coffee, too)!
Out of Chambers there’s a frontage road both sides of I-40. But they soon quit, the south one in a quarter-mile, the north one, shortly after. So, down the I-40 off ramp I go, to again head west in the eastbound emergency lane.
At the next exit there appears to be old alignment, south side, that continues on west to a crossroads called Navajo. As I trek west on I-40, Barry goes to check it out. Bad news, the east end is gated, the west end, gated, locked, and posted.
At the Navajo exit, I enter the Navajo Travel Center. Here, to my good fortune, I meet Arizona State Patrolman, Gilbert Roanhorse. “Saw you hiking east of here yesterday.” he says. Then follows the most enjoyable conversation. I learn about his ancestry, which he’s traced back to when the Spaniards first traded horses to the Navajo. The horses were Roans. And so, his name (handed down), Roanhorse!
Gilbert lives nearby and is familiar with the Navajo/Hopi Reservation lands where the old Route 66 alignment passes, and he advises me. He also patrols the section of I-40 I’m now hiking. What great relief to find he has no issue with my trekking the interstate as long as I stay in the eastbound emergency lane (Thank you, Lord!).
Leaving the Travel Center, and as Gilbert has advised, I continue on for three more miles along the interstate, then cross over, climb the highway fence, and bushwhack a short distance to the crumbling (and caved in) old pavement. It’s nothing short of astonishing to see how time and the elements have transformed and carved up this old roadbed. Check the pictures; they tell the story much better than I ever could!
As I linger taking these pictures, then meander this fascinating (and beautiful) old alignment, Barry’s worked his way around, found the old pavement, passed through a gate and parked the van–to walk the roadbed east to greet me.
Not the most ideal day on the trail (Route 66), what with the wind–started the day at 15, ended at 30, gusts to near 50. Pushed and shoved me every which way…
“One voice, one breath against the wind,
Awed by the fragile life within.
T’is humbling who we really are,
Amazed we made it safe this far.”
[Gary Bryson]
Saturday–October 21, 2017
Trail Day–087 Maps 185-186
Trail Mile–17.8/1634.0
Location–Petrified Forest National Park, then on toward Holbrook
Our last night in Chambers. Our last complimentary breakfast. We’re in and out and on our way back to the old abandoned alignment east of the Painted Desert. By seven-thirty 
Barry has me over the gate and trekking as he heads for the Petrified Forest National Park where I’ll be coming out around noon.
It’s another cool morning, clear skies. Ah, and the wind is gone. Being out here in these wide open, passed over spaces, today I need not deal with the grinding semis, the rumbling mile-long trains, just high plains desert beauty (and longed for quiet) to the horizon, three-sixty.
In a short while I crest a rise to see the Painted Desert Trading Post ruins below. Due to its isolation and inaccessibility, this Route 66 era buildings is one of the grand icons few ever see. It’s falling apart, crumbling and leaning, but yet it stands. It fits the scene perfectly–a fixed-in-time backdrop to the busted-up and crumbling old highway.
The bridge across the nearby water source remains in remarkably good condition, the banks below being shored up as they are by junked automobiles. I’ve fair recognition of vintage vehicles, but I’ve not a clue as to the make and model of a single one of these!
Across and north of the bridge “stand” the remains of what was likely the house occupied by the trading post folks. Not much left of it, the floors, walls, roof, all now totally exposed to the whims of nature. I follow the dry riverbed around to it, walk around it, and take a few pictures. I’ve an uneasy feeling the entire time, like I’m imposing, interrupting some long, important playing-out process.
Back and continuing west now, what beautiful scenery, 360, with old Route 66 cutting right through it to the far distant horizon.
A little before noon I’m at the Route 66 approach/overlook to the Painted Desert. The road, till now, had been rambling the vast rolling plains, but suddenly, the desert floor falls completely away, leaving an unfathomable wasteland of incomparable beauty below. It’s so abrupt and unexpected. I stop–and just stare in awe for the longest time.
The old Route 66 alignment, where it meets the main Park road, is now marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY.” Here, Barry is waiting for me. Our plans for today, they’re working perfectly, as there’s plenty of time to explore the Park before I move on toward Holbrook.
The main gate and Visitor Center (I came in the back way) is toward the interstate, so I hike that short distance. At the entrance gate I meet Jorge, Park Ranger. Barry had mentioned I’d be coming through, so he was expecting me. I tell him I have one of the first-issued cardboard Golden Age NPS Passports–but not with me. Not a problem I was told. Thanks Jorge!
Barry loads me and we take the tour. First, we visit the Painted Desert Inn. It’s been restored to its long-ago splendor–but no longer serves as an inn. Then we drive Blue Mesa Road around to where it crosses the old Route 66 alignment. Another vintage (rusted) four-door sedan to set the mood. I get a shot of Barry checking it out.
I’d planned on trekking on through the Park on old Route 66, but there’s nothing left of it here. So, back to the “grinder” I go. More semis, lots more; they’re running ten a minute now. Sure glad I’ve only an hour or two out here today.
I end this day at Exit #300. Barry soon comes to get me and take me to a “hiker trash deal” motel in Holbrook. It has indeed been one very fine hiking day…
Back to Top
Sunday–October 22, 2017
Trail Day–088 Maps 186-187
Trail Mile–22.5/1656.5
Location–Holbrook, then on toward Manila (Jack Rabbit Trading Post)
A pleasant stay on the east side of Holbrook last night, no trains, no semis!
We forgo breakfast so I can get moving, a very long day, 23 miles, all on the grinder (I-40) save for my pass through Holbrook. I’m out to a cold morning, but there’s no wind and the semi traffic is less than half what I usually must deal with.
I’m starting today at MM-300 (where I ended the day yesterday), and will trek I-40 on down to MM-277. Route 66, the old alignment, comes out from under I-40 in a few places, but for very short distances. To trek what little there is of it, I’d have to climb the interstate fence twice for each–over, then back. Not worth the risk of injury, so I trek on–on I-40.
I’m not back in Holbrook till nearly noon. No breakfast, I’m ready for lunch. Chicken sounds good. Barry finds a place. Then a bit of sightseeing as I pass through on Bus-66. A familiar and well-known Route 66 icon, Wigwam Motel. Some fine photo ops.
We also take time to find a room for tonight on the west end of town. Another hiker trash deal at Brad’s Desert Inn, a very nice old (neat and clean) motel.
Mid-afternoon now I hike on out of town, then back onto I-40, westbound in the eastbound emergency lane. The sun is setting when Barry comes to lift me from the interstate and take me back to Holbrook.
Ah yes, a stop by Dairy Queen for a treat before we call it a day…
Back to Top
Monday–October 23, 2017
Trail Day–089 Maps 187-189
Trail Mile–17.7/1674.2
Location–Manila (Jack Rabbit Trading Post), then on to near Winslow
A great stay at Brad’s Desert Inn. Both Barry and I are up early, but end up getting out late. No hurry though. I’ve a mail drop here in Holbrook and the post office doesn’t open till nine. So, in the meantime we’re off to Joe and Aggie’s Cafe for breakfast.
This little corner cafe is one of the most well-known Route 66 era establishments in Arizona, what with it being the oldest continuing business in Holbrook.
Entering, we’re greeted by long-time waitress, Tammie. We also meet the owner, Stanley, and Joe and Aggie’s daughter, Kim. Friendly (feel like you’re home) service, fine food, and a most fascinating history.
Under the two original cartoon sketches (Pixar’s Cars) you’ll see the signature of John Lasseter. If you don’t know who he is, click on his name; you may be surprised. A hint: in the Disney animated movie “Cars” do you remember an old jalopy by the name of Stanley? Well, according to Stanley’s bio: “As he was traveling west searching for a place to settle and make his fortune, Stanley stumbled upon a natural spring coming up from the earth. He stopped to fill his radiator and never left. Soon afterward Stanley met Lizzie, the love of his life, and together they founded Radiator Springs, which soon became a legendary resting spot for travelers making their way across Route 66.”
Stanley, mentioned above, the owner of Joe and Aggie’s, and the name of the old “Cars” jalopy, Stanley–same names. Just a coincidence? Ah, no! See the album page Stanley is holding? It’s a picture of Stanley, the old jalopy–which was inspired by Stanley; yes, this Stanley! John and Stanley are good friends!
My trek today, some twenty miles, follows old Route 66 alignments, some in use (under, and out from under I-40), and some abandoned and gated off.
First, I’ve a section now serving as a frontage road, an enjoyable short bit that takes me by the Jack Rabbit Trading Post. Here, I spend some time with Tony, the owner. He tells me where the old highway is located and how I-40 cuts right across it in two different places. “A Mile or so up, by my signs, I-40 cuts across 66 right there.” says Tony. Out and hiking the “grinder” for a few miles now, I can see (by Tony’s Jack Rabbit Trading Post signs) right where I-40 cuts through.
My final segment hiked today is another isolated bit of old alignment that’s been cut off by I-40. It runs some seven and one-half miles, the whole thing gated and locked, both ends. Another last-of-the-last Eagle Rider Tours (20-30 Harleys) drove right by (no chance to see) this delightful fixed-in-time segment.
The end of this gated off segment is the end of my hike for this day. Barry is here waiting patiently. Sundown, we head for the Brown Jug in Winslow for supper. Then it’s to our camp, which Barry set this afternoon, in nearby Homolovi Ruins State Park. Another fine hiking day to be thankful for. Had I been trekking through here last July or August–would have been absolute torture…
Back to Top
Tuesday–October 24, 2017
Trail Day–090 Maps 189-192
Trail Mile–19.2+18.7/1712.1
Location–Winslow, then on to Meteor Crater Road
A cold night last. To stay warm I simply burrowed deeper in the blankets provided me here in Barry’s comfortable van.
Side door opens a little after six (repeat of last week) and a hot steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee is handed to me by Barry. He’s also fried eggs and toast for me. Then to top it off, a banana and homemade cookies sent by Sherrie and her mother, Carol. Dear friends early-on this trek from back in Missouri.
It’s a short drive for Barry to deposit me back on the road. I can see Winslow from here, and I move right out in that direction. Late morning now and on my way in, I pass Remembrance Park, plus a number of old 66 era buildings, (mostly shuttered and abandoned).
I’m soon at that downtown corner made famous by the Eagles back in 1957. Barry comes to share the fun and excitement with me. Here, I also meet Marianne, the aunt of my dear friend, John (hiker trash), who lives in Florida. Picture time for sure!
Also located at this famous corner, the Arizona 66 Trading Company. While waiting for the tourists to clear (so I can take a few pictures), I go in to chat with Ashley. She’s tending the place today. (Wanted to come back for one of your colorful Winslow T-shirts, Ashley–just ran out of time.)
And around the corner, the Winslow Museum. Marianne recommended I go. Glad I did! They’ve a Route 66 display case packed with rare and unusual items, like the 78-rpm stereo album by the Eagles, dated 1977, and a very old (first I’ve seen) Route 66 iron sign, the letters studded with cat-eye reflectors.
Back out and on the grinder (eastbound Route-40 emergency lane), 18-miles yet to hike today–it’s head down and hammer, put the rubber to the road. It’s dark-thirty by the time I reach the Meteor Crater RV Park, Meteor Crater Road. Barry has camp all set and supper waiting for me!
Over the past number of days I’ve managed to climb up on another itinerary click, a mile here, a couple there. To reach today’s destination–Winslow, I’ve had to trek only four miles. From Winslow to Meteor Crater Road is just shy of 19 miles, so I hiked it on through for a 23-miler today.
I could have (and should have) gotten in way before dark–just spent too much time “Standing on the Corner.”
Back to Top
Wednesday–October 25, 2017
Trail Day–091 Maps 192-193
Trail Mile–14.6/1726.6
Location–Twin Arrows
Came stumbling in here in the dark last night. The host (Meteor Crater Campground) was kind enough to head me in the right direction. Barry had told me how to find our campsite, but in the dark I became totally confused.
Steaming hot coffee, fried eggs and toast first thing this morning. Barry’s got me spoiled for sure! I hiked right in here last night (old Route 66 alignment), so I need only shoulder my pack and trek right back out again this morning.
This past number of days I’ve had perfect hiking conditions, cold mornings, cool, clear afternoons, and no wind to speak of–more pure blessings showered upon this old man!
Trekking ever west, and still at or above 5,000 feet elevation, the scrub is becoming shorter and shorter, the land more arid, the climate more pure desert-like. This enormous expanse and profound desolation used to frighten me to tears. When the distant, ever-elusive horizon becomes front and center, 360, the road ahead little more than a thin disappearing line, and knowing that beyond, just more of the same–and you must go there. Hard to keep control of your rational senses, to find the grit and resolve to head into it, then to continue on. It’s taken me years and many thousands of miles to be able to come to forbidding places such as these and hike them through–with calm, unshakable resolve, with patience, and with true feelings of contentment and peace. The pictures from today, indeed, from the past number of days offer little in the way to help understand how profound the grip…
I have known for quite a while that dear friends from Alabama were out here, that our paths might possibly cross. But for them to be driving I-40 and to spot me by the ruins in Canyon Diablo–amazing! What a joy to spend a bit of time with Jeff, Nancy, and Jeff’s mother, Glenda. We’ll be together again soon down in Alabama.
Here at a place called Two Guns there are a variety of ruins, from various times. The oldest–remains of stone fortifications built by the Navajo to fend off their enemy, the Apache. And more recently, what’s left of buildings that served Route 66 travelers–before I-40 came through. This once thriving (now ghost) town has the most interesting and intriguing history. If you’ll click the link above, you can read about the long, long ago. You’ll definitely see what I mean! Oh, and I had nothing to do with the artifact (the arching semi-transparent globe that can be seen in the fortification ruins picture).
The remainder of this (short) day–on to my next itinerary click at Twin Arrows, is again spent trekking the “grinder.”
Back to Top
Thursday–October 26, 2017
Trail Day–092 Maps 193-194
Trail Mile–20.2/1746.9
Location–East Flagstaff
Innkeep at The “L” Motel in Flagstaff cut us a hiker trash deal last night, but then put us in his noisiest room, the one nearest Flagstaff’s busy main drag. No problem for either of us though. Barry sleeps with earplugs, and I long ago learned to block out pretty much every kind of noise.
We’re both up at daybreak, to load the van and head for Exit #219. This is where I’ll start this day (on the grinder again). It’s also the location of the fabulously extravagant Two Guns Casino. Oh yes, we’re right in here for breakfast. Navajo folks everywhere, doorman, hostess, waitress. All cheerful and happy this morning. I love meeting these Navajo folks, being greeted by them, and chatting a bit when their time permits.
Another blue-perfect day in store–clear and cold this morning, which will become clear and cool this afternoon. Days like this, here in the high plains desert, are glorious for lifting a pack and hitting the trail/road. I will never become complacent. I’ll never take this good fortune for granted, nor will I ever fail to give thanks.
Across from the casino, on the south side of I-40, there’s a short segment of the old Route 66 roadbed. After Barry cuts me loose for the day, there’s where I’m headed. Here, in less than a quarter-mile, stand the remains of the once thriving and successful Twin Arrows Trading Post, another unfortunate victim of “progress.” It’s really quite remarkable the trading post’s trademark, the twin arrows are still standing. I give the ransacked place the once over, take a few pictures, then fight off the funk that’s trying to descend.
The only (close) way to cross Padre Canyon is I-40, so up and on the Twin Arrows off ramp I go. From here, I’m not able to get off the “grinder” until reaching a gravel road, which runs the north side–two hours later. I’m able to stay the gravel to the next exit; then it’s back on I-40 to where the Arizona National Scenic Trail passes through culverts under Route 66, the interstate, and the railroad.
Reaching the culverts, I bail off to again trek a short section of the Arizona Trail, to just east of Flagstaff. Barry is at the railroad underpass (culvert) waiting for me. Here, I take a short rest, and enjoy the sandwich Barry prepares for me.
On June 3rd 2010, I hiked through here, through these culverts, on my Arizona Trail trek. A bittersweet moment today. Back then, Gordon Smith was supporting me. He was awaiting my arrival, then greeted me, as has Barry today–at these culverts. Gordon passed away this past spring…
Back to Top
Friday–October 27, 2017
Trail Day–093 Maps 194-196
Trail Mile–16.1/1763.0
Location–Bellemont
Having a retired career military officer for your support crew definitely has its advantages. Yesterday evening Barry whisked us right through the gate and into BOQ? at Camp Navajo (Navajo Army Depot) here in Bellemont. This is our second night’s stay here (I finished this day on old Route 66, right outside the base gate!), and we’ll be right back here again tomorrow night. Always prided myself in being able to “Yogi” hiker trash deals at motels. Ha, I’m a piker, a pure rank amateur compared to Barry–four-star room for two for three nights for less than it would normally run one person, one night. Amazing–well shut my mouth!
We’re up and out early. Barry has me back to East Flagstaff, pack shouldered and trekking by seven-thirty, headed for Flagstaff. Another perfectly glorious day for hiking Route 66. Don’t frown because I keep telling you this!
East Flagstaff could just as well be named New Flagstaff–streets, sidewalks, pathways, brand new (brand) businesses, all whiz-bang clean and neat–runs some four miles before bumping into (old) Flagstaff.
Three miles east of Flagstaff used to be way out in the boonies, but not anymore. That’s the location of one of Flagstaff’s oldest (1931) and most well-known Route 66 icons–the Museum Club. The establishment has seen its better days (near countless, incredible for sure). Sadly, it’s now vacant and for sale.
There are many great websites, outstanding resources, which cover every conceivable aspect concerning Route 66. In my opinion, the very best, the most comprehensive of the lot is Legends of America – Route 66. If I tried telling you what I know about this old club, you’d likely not believe me. And for good reason–because the rich history, the fascinating story surrounding the club could well have come right out of an award-winning mystery novel. I’ve hot-linked both the source site and the club itself. If you don’t click on both and spend a bit of time at each–shame on you!
In downtown Flagstaff now, I get a photo of “Old Downtown” and the majestic train station, now Flagstaff’s Welcome Center. Ah, and now what do I see? The first Los Angeles directional sign; we’re getting there, folks–we’re getting there!
West of Flagstaff, where Business-40 returns to I-40, Route 66 is totally buried under the interstate. So, I once again return to the grinder (trekking westbound in the eastbound emergency lane). In a few miles I’m able to drop down off the I-40 shoulder and onto the old Route 66 roadbed.
Back east I took pictures of where the interstate literally buried the old highway, but none of those shots showed “The Burial” anywhere near as dramatic as these taken today. Here’s the old roadbed one minute. Next minute it just disappears under I-40; Wow, look at these shots! Ah, and in no more than a mile or so, as I’m now walking the old highway on west, a perfect example of how the interstate (realignments) abruptly ruined people’s businesses, their very lives. For I now pass the beautifully kept Richfield Service Station. It was a busy, thriving business one day. Next day–all hopes and dreams dashed. Not a happy ending…
Back to Top
Saturday–October 28, 2017
Trail Day–094 Maps 196-197
Trail Mile–19.0/1782.0
Location–Williams Junction (east of Williams)
McDonald’s is just across I-40 from the base gate. We’re there right away for breakfast. Pancakes and coffee, I’m ready to hike!
Looking forward to this day–as I begin climbing. Soon, I enter the Kaibab NF. Tall trees here, and it’s quiet, no trains or semis. Yes, going to be a fine hiking day.
The highest point on Route 66 is just east of Williams on this old pre-1931 alignment. By ten I’m standing in a slight saddle. This is it, but there’s no sign, no way to tell.
Descending, in a few more miles I reach the crossroads village of Parks. Neat old general store. Fellows sitting the picnic table in the warming sun, Joe and Steve. Barry soon comes to check on me, so I take a break and we have lunch.
I cross I-40 twice today to avoid walking the grinder. Some gravel roads instead; a most welcome diversion.
Back in Sayre, Oklahoma, on a rainy Sunday, you may recall I attended church at Trinity Fellowship. There I met Eric, one of the greeters. We became friends. Well, Eric has a friend, Brooks, a rancher who lives here near Williams. Barry and I have been invited to supper by Brooks. A most enjoyable ending to this fine day. Thanks, Brooks (son Cole, and daughters Ellie and Macie) for your kindness and hospitality!
Back to the Army base for our final night. By tomorrow evening I’ll be 40 miles west of here…
Back to Top
Sunday–October 29, 2017
Trail Day–095 Maps 197-198
Trail Mile–19.9/1801.9
Location–Johnson Creek wash (east of Ash Fork), then on to Ash Fork
First light we’re up, tidy our room, leave the key and we’re out and away from Navajo Army Depot, our final stay here. What a fine facility. I was able to get some much needed rest. Thanks, Barry, for finding this place!
Coffee for us, gas for the van–and we’re off to just east of Williams, where I ended the 
day yesterday. Shortly after seven I’m on my way to Williams. Another cold morning, but I’m fine with it, as I know the afternoon will turn comfortably warm and pleasant.
Some fine Route 66 era buildings in Williams, like the Grand Canyon Hotel and Pete’s Gas Station Museum. The sun is just hitting the streets of Williams as I pass through.
There are a number of (questionable) Route 66 realignments west of Williams. The first one goes from paved to dirt to dead end in no more than a mile. The remainder, I suspect, are no better. So, it’s off to the races again–trekking the grinder (I-40), down, down, and down some more, all the way to Ash Fork–on the high plains desert floor.
The past couple of days I’ve been exchanging text messages with Dick and Judy from Prescott. They befriended me, encouraged me, and bought me lunch. That was months ago clear back in Missouri. They were touring Route 66 for their umpteenth time, and promised they’d come find me here in Arizona when the time was right. And today turns out to be that time. Thanks, Dick, thanks, Judy! Oh, check out the license plate on their Corvette. “Route 66 Roadies,” oh yes!
Late evening now, I trek the short distance from Lu Lu Belle’s (where Barry and I met with Dick and Judy here in Ash Fork) to the I-40 exit on the west end of town. Barry is right here waiting for me, to take me to the camp he’s set at a place in the desert west of Ash Fork. It belongs to Donna, an artist he’d met, who displays her work in a studio in Williams. Neat spread on the wide-open prairie–tell you more about it and the other folks here–tomorrow.
And tomorrow I’ll begin trekking the longest uninterrupted section of old Route 66 here in Arizona, some 92 miles (more or less), as it parallels the old abandoned Santa Fe railroad bed. Sure looking forward to that. Paid my dues; sure enough paid my dues…
Back to Top
Monday–October 30, 2017
Trail Day–096 Maps 198-200
Trail Mile–19.6/1821.5
Location–old roadbed near Crookton, then on toward Seligman
A very memorable evening at Donna’s place near Ash Fork. She let us camp right out front. Dark-thirty, Ron and Clay got a cooking-turned-warming fire going. They live in a mobile home next to Donna’s. Both are veterans, Ron, a Marine. Clay, Special Forces. Clay is Native American, SK/Klallam, from the Pacific Northwest. His (white man’s) name, Micheal Harry Hunter. His tribal name, Ah~Kle~Whu~Thl. He’s an Indian Sundancer; he’s also a highly decorated combat veteran!
This morning, a very cold morning, Barry and I decide to forgo camp breakfast in favor of a warm sit-down breakfast in Ash Fork. Right choice!
My hike today begins at the end of the main drag, west side of Ash Fork, at the I-40 on ramp. Here I must take to I-40 again for the first four miles–for one last time.
The four miles behind me now, and here at Crookton Road, I-40 continues north-northwest, while old Route 66 separates a considerable distance, to continue on west–on its own. This is great! I’m so happy to finally be away from the incessant racket created by the continual parade of semis.
And here at Crookton Road exit, another example of how I-40 has sliced right through the old Route 66 roadbed. Crossing to the north side now, I continue west on Route 66. No sadness whatsoever, leaving the interstate behind.
Getting my sticks clicking, entering my autopilot zone, rides up this fellow across. Happy smile. I meet Dennis, who’s cycling Route 66. He departed Chicago on August 28th, a full month after I began–and here he is! Hey, and finally, I run
into someone out here who’s actually older than me. Dennis was born in 1937.
And here comes his support crew, his wife, Bonnie, in their Mercedes motorhome. They’re from Tallahassee and hope to finish in time for Thanksgiving. Great meeting you both; thanks for stopping. And thanks for your kindness and encouragement; safe travels.
Afternoon now, some really fine segments of the old concrete roadbed, plus some old bridges.
Late evening, I text Barry and ask him to put off coming for me till five. I need to hike another six miles just to maintain my advance toward another itinerary click. Timing works great; Barry’s right here to fetch me and take me back to our campsite at Donna’s…
Back to Top
Tuesday–October 31, 2017
Trail Day–097 Maps 200-202
Trail Mile–08.5/1830.0
Location–Seligman, then on toward Grand Canyon Caverns
66 Kicks
Delbert Trew
Roadies
Bobby Troup
Last night was our last night at Donna’s. I’d had a long-mile day and was very tired, but I thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with Donna, Michael, and Ron. Supper was provided by Barry and Donna, stew with hamburger added. Michael and Ron then got another warming campfire going, and we all huddled close, enjoying each other’s company. We discussed many things, but the moment I’ll not soon forget–Donna’s telling of the memories of her son, A.J., blind from age 12, who passed away from a brain tumor at age 19. Her poise and gentleness, not the least hint of sadness, rather her calm, peaceful rejoicing in having been the boy’s mother. I’ve never before seen such strength through faith in accepting such a tragic loss. “Though blind, A.J. played center on his high school football team. Shortly before his death, he trained hard, then went and climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.” said Donna, with an unmistakable mother’s loving smile.
I’d ended my day yesterday just short of Seligman, so it was a short hike on in. Another cold morning, sticks under my arm, hands in my pockets. A fumbling time as I continually reach for my camera. One of the shops catches my eye. No wonder, it’s called “Return to the 50s.” It’s open, so in I go, to meet Dave the proprietor. Kind man, fun talking about the 50s. Seligman is THE Route 66 town–of all Route 66 towns. It is, in fact, the birthplace of Route 66.
On the west end now, I meet Barry for breakfast, then stop by the post office before heading on out of town. I’m hiking well this morning, so just past Chino Station, where the highway bends around the end of a tall mesa, I decide to climb the fence and hike a very long ago abandoned stretch of pavement. I stay it for a fair distance. Fearful of turning my ankle on one of the many broken chunks of pavement, I break away and bushwhack back to the highway.
Late afternoon now, and trekking one of the longest straight stretches of highway so far, goes flying by me (I think it was) a new Corvette. I don’t know how fast a new Corvette will go, but this guy was literally flying. By the time I turned to watch him pass, he was by me–and gone!
Near the end of my day I hear a voice behind me. It’s a young lady cyclist calling out to me. “Are you the person walking Route
66?” Big smile, glowing face. It’s Lindsey. In a moment, comes Maggie. They’re from Colorado, and they’re cycling Route 66. They left Chicago a full month after I did–and here they are! They plan to be in Santa Monica in less than two weeks.
I’d told Barry I wanted to hike till five. At five on the dot he’s here–at mile marker 122. Only 122 miles left in Arizona! California here we come…
Back to Top
Wednesday–November 1, 2017
Trail Day–098 Maps 202-204
Trail Mile–25.2/1855.2
Location–Grand Canyon Caverns, then on toward Truxton
A very cold night. Hard frost on the van and Barry’s tent. We’re both up at first light, to make a bee-line for the warm bathhouse. Breaking camp, not a fun task. Not as bad, 
though, after our hands turn numb! On our way back to mile marker #122, Route 66, we stop for coffee. Two small coffees to go, five bucks, plus tax. A sure sign we’re getting close to California!
I’m pack shouldered and trekking by seven-thirty. By ten the day turns most pleasant, and at Grand Canyon Caverns, where I stop for a short time, I’m able to shed my windbreak. Out front, two old cars catch my attention, a Nash Rambler and a Chevrolet Corvair.
Mid-afternoon now, two fellows not having their best of days–they’re broke down and needing a tow. Yet they cross the road and greet me with enthusiastic smiles. “Wouldn’t have gotten our picture with you if we hadn’t broke down.” says Jordan. They’re hikers and are returning from trekking the Havasupai Trail. Jordan, Chris, a pleasure meeting you!
Toward evening now and in the village of Peach Springs, location of the Hualapai Indian Lodge and Tribal Capital, I pass an old Route 66 era icon, Osterman’s Shell Station (1927).
My destination today–mile marker 100. Reaching there, Barry is waiting to share in my excitement–completing another day on Route 66. Camp tonight is on BLM land just outside the reservation.
Back to Top
Thursday–November 2, 2017
Trail Day 099 Map 204
Trail Miles–20.4/1875.6
Location–Truxton, then through Hackberry and on toward Antares
A not-so-cold night last, camped on Bureau of Land Management (BLM)/Crozier Ranch lands. We’re up, strike camp, and are on our way back to mile marker 100.
Yesterday I hiked 22 miles, to end the day at mile marker 100. My plan now is to cross the Colorado River on Monday, November 6th, day 103, there, to enter California at Needles. So, for the next five days (including today) I’ll be consistently trekking 20-mile days.
I’ve five miles to hike this morning to reach Truxton. I find Barry waiting there in the old abandoned Frontier Motel parking lot, where he’s set up (breakfast) shop for me. There’s hot coffee waiting, and eggs and potatoes in the frying pan. Roughing it, really roughing it, eh folks!
After breakfast, pack once again shouldered, doesn’t take long to clear Truxton. Hard not to feel the least bit of sadness for these small, once thriving villages. Truxton could easily be labeled a ghost town now–old abandoned and tumble-down buildings choked with weeds and brush. I realize you must get tired of seeing pictures of all this. Touring (hiking) Route 66 is supposed to be a happy, joyful time. It’s supposed to be.
Vast, wide open spaces here in western Arizona, unbelievably long straightaways. To keep such time suspensions from playing mind games, I simply lower my gaze, put the rubber to the road–and haul. For this day, however, these long straight stretches are not the least intimidating, for I’m constantly lifted and sustained (both physically and emotionally) by the unbelievable beauty, both sides of the road and all around.
Mid-morning, the hypnotic spell brought on by the rhythmic clicking of my hiking sticks is broken, as a lady crosses the busy highway to greet me. It’s Blue from London, England. She’s been keeping up with my daily journals, was nearby, and decided to come out and track me down. “You know Stephanie, don’t you?” she asks. “Yes!” I reply. “She’s a roadie–you’re a roadie, too, aren’t you?” Big smile on Blue’s face. “When my husband and I reached Santa Monica the first time, we’d had such a great time, we seriously considered turning around and heading back.” No mistaking that far away roadie glint in her eye! Thanks, Blue, for taking time to come out and find me–just great energy; sure enough made my day!
A couple more era gas stations, an old abandoned section of roadbed, and I reach one of the most famous and well-known Route 66 era icons of all–Hackberry General Store. Very popular; straight out of the 50s. Picture time once more; oh yes!
Another half-mile and I’m at mile marker 80. This is it for today. Barry’s right here to lift me from the road, take me to supper at the local bar and grill–then it’s off to our camp he’s already set nearby…
Back to Top
Friday–November 3, 2017
Trail Day 100 Maps 204-205
Trail Mile–19.5/1895.1
Location–Antares, then on toward Kingman
Trains were running steady all night, and though aware of them I was able to sleep right through their rumble and vibration.
We’re camped beside Route 66 five miles west of where I ended the day yesterday. So, plan is for Barry to return me to that point (mile marker 80). From there I’ll hike the five miles to our camp. He’ll have coffee ready, then prepare breakfast for us.
I’m back at nine for the coffee and hot breakfast–fine plan.
I’m out again now, headed for mile marker 60. Not as picturesque a hike as yesterday, and by eleven the wind has again found me. Ten mph to begin, then as it makes a minor directional adjustment (to come straight at me) it increases to 20, gusting to over 30.
Only photo op today comes at mile marker 66, of the mile marker–fitting!
The wind is really workin me over as I trek on down to mile marker 60. Barry is right here to load then haul me to an inexpensive motel on the west side of Kingman. Happy to have this day behind me…
Saturday–November 4, 2017
Trail Day–101 Maps 205-207
Trail Mile–22.6/1917.7
Location–Kingman, then on toward Cool Spring Camp
Barry got us a two-night hiker trash deal, a mom-n-pop motel west side of Kingman. No semi or freight train racket for a change.
And this morning he’s got me back on Route 66 and heading for Kingman before seven. Going to be another blue-perfect hiking day–amazing how this trek continues to unfold, just amazing.
East Kingman now, Barry’s checked out the Ramada, then circled back to tell me, “They’re really big on Route 66. You should see the place. Great breakfast special too, very reasonable.” Yup, I head for the Ramada. Wow, never before have I seen a chain operation so focused on a particular theme–check out this place (many photos). A fine (great value) breakfast, too!
Many Route 66 era establishments in Kingman. Does my heart good to see them thriving. Fond memories of the 50s come flooding back.
The Arizona Historic Route 66 Association office is located in the old Powerhouse Visitor Center. In their gift shop I meet Debbie–then to ask her to pass on my appreciation and thanks to the association officers for the great time Barry and I have had these past 16 days–along Route 66 here in Arizona.
More scenic beauty as I follow Route 66 through the canyon south of Kingman. Here I meet Lenora, working the entrance to her son’s place. The well-kept building caught my eye. “It’s over 100 years old.” says Lenore, with obvious pride!
Soon, I-40 comes back to once again run along right beside the old highway. There’s an abandoned railroad bridge across I-40, and to my delight, it’s not barricaded. Crossing here–this is my final dealings with I-40. So long; no tears shed with this parting of ways. Ah, here, too, I bid farewell to the BNSF railroad. You’ve been okay company all along, for so long, but you will not be missed.
Getting away from the dominance of I-40 and the BNSF, the old road becomes Route 66 National Backcountry Byway. From here, tomorrow, I’ll be climbing into the Black Mountains, headed for Oatman.
Trekked down another 20 today, from mile marker 60 to mile marker 40. Two more days and I’ll cross the Colorado River at Needles California…
Sunday–November 5, 2017
Trail Day–102 Maps 207-208
Trail Mile–19.3+07.8/1944.8
Location–Cool Spring Camp, through Oatman, then on toward Needles, California
It’s hard to keep track of the correct time anymore. Seems there’s a change every few days. We had been on Mountain Daylight Savings in eastern Arizona. But the Navajo had their own time. So, we were on that for a while. Then it changed to Mountain Standard. Today I ended a few miles from Needles, California, still Mountain Standard. But this evening Barry drove me across the Colorado River into Needles. So tonight I think we’re on Pacific Standard–but in the morning, I’ll be on Mountain Standard again. What I’ve decided–it doesn’t really matter what time it is!
Anyway, we’re up before daylight this morning. We both need our coffee fix, so it’s across to the gas station before Barry returns me to the road (40 mile marker) west of Kingman. I think it’s a little after six when I’m trekking again–but it’s still really dark, so I’m not sure. Full moon helps.
This morning I’m starting at the lowest point on Route 66 in the Sacramento Valley (DON’T ENTER WHEN FLOODED). From here, in the next ten miles I’ll climb some 2,500 feet to Sitgreaves Pass in the Black Mountains.
This section of old Route 66 is claimed to be one of the most picturesque of all, and this morning it doesn’t take long to make a believer out of me. As the rising sun strikes the top of the rugged ridge along the Blacks, then works its way down–just a glorious sight.
After awhile, and into the beginning of my climb to the pass, I arrive at Cool Spring Camp. It’s now run by an interesting (and kind) fellow named Crazy Ray. “Been running the place for a month now, trying to get it cleaned up.” says Crazy Ray. For having been here only a month, he’s got a fine selection of souvenirs and other merchandise–and the store is neat and clean. Nice place you got here, Crazy Ray!
Just beyond Cool Spring Camp (and yes, there is a spring here) the climb begins for real. A true test of my strength and stamina. And I’m pleasantly surprised to find the climb not the least strenuous. I’m still breathing normally when I reach the pass. Barry is waiting here, so I take a break as he prepares lunch for us.
A fascinating challenge now. On Barry’s van, also on my Odyssey 2017 card, there’s a picture of a mountain that I lifted from the internet. It’s called Thimble Mountain, and it’s right here in the Blacks. I’ve taken a number of pictures of it this morning. And the challenge? To find the exact spot where that picture I used was taken. Well, we thought it’d be easy, but it takes quite a bit of searching–but the time was well spent–we found it. You can compare the photo Barry took of me standing on the road shoulder, his van parked right in the road, and the photoshopped wrap of that same photo he had made of the mountain and me–that’s on his van. Pretty close, eh!
Over the pass and down the other side, late afternoon I reach the “town” of Oatman. An interesting place to say the least, what with the burros roaming Main Street!
Evening now, a day’s hike yet east of Needles, Barry comes for me–to take me on into Needles for the night.
Besides the incomparable beauty of the Sitgreaves Pass area, there’s also much of interest historically. There’s a very fine narrative at Legends of America. Click to enjoy…
Back to Top
Monday–November 6, 2017
Trail Day–103 Map 208-209
Trail Mile–22.0/1966.8
Location–Needles, California
The Best Motel (that’s the name of the place), is directly on Route 66 in downtown Needles. It’s old, probably dating back to the heydays of the Mother Road. Kept up and clean, though. Don’t know how Barry found it–cut a hiker trash deal with Bryan, the owner. We’re in for two nights. Actually, one night for Barry, two for me.
I want to be out and trekking early this morning so Barry can get headed home. He’s got two full days, part of another, to get back to Alabama. And so, just before sunrise now, at mile marker 8, Boundary Cone Highway–a really tough time for me. Barry gets me going, then turns the van around, and as he pulls away comes that customary beep and wave–and he’s gone. And here I stand, with a heavy heart and a terrible hollow spot in my gut.
As I trek toward Needles, I watch the beginning of another perfect day–the sun’s brilliance lighting first the mountaintops across, then the grand expanse of the Mohave Valley below. Down, down, then down some more, 16 miles to the Colorado River, then across and into Needles. I complete this day’s trek and am back in my room at the Best Motel well before one.
In a short while I get a text message from Rick Harris. I met Rick on a cold, rainy evening atop Flagg Mountain. He had his pack shouldered, rain gear on, and was bound for Weogufka Creek Shelter on the Pinhoti Trail. We became immediate friends and have since spent many great times together. Ah, and now, we’re about to share another one. Rick left Alabama day before yesterday, bound for Needles, California–yup, to provide help and support to this tired old hiker. A little after three comes a knock on my door–Hello Rick!
Back to Top
Tuesday–November 7, 2017
Trail Day–104 Maps 209-211
Trail Mile–15.7/1982.5
Location–Arrowhead Junction
Friendship–and what is the measure of it! Rick left Alabama last Saturday and drove two and one-half days to finally get here yesterday evening. Barry left for Alabama early yesterday morning, drove all day yesterday, all day today, and won’t be back home until sometime tomorrow. It’s a true blessing to have these great friends!
Rick had told me last night that he would be meeting with the San Bernadino County Sheriff’s Department (Rick is a retired sheriff–Winston County Alabama). So, he’s up and gone before first light. I roll over and go back to sleep. In awhile I’m awakened by voices outside my door, so I go check. It’s Rick and a San Bernadino County deputy. Rick introduces me to Frank, who is here to help me with my hike logistics–for the next 12 days. Yes, Needles is in San Bernadino County, some 250 miles and 12 hiking days distant–the largest county in the United States. Thanks, Frank, for taking time to come by this morning. Much helpful advice.
Rick drives me to McDonald’s for breakfast before sending me off to trek another beautiful desert day. West side of Needles, some Route 66 era buildings and businesses, plus a quarter-mile of the most impressive roadside dry-stack rock memorials.
Jumped the gun on my comments about being shed of I-40 and the BNSF Railroad. Not finished with either of them, until today. For, as I’m hiking Route 66 out of Needles, I-40 
returns to sidle right up to the old highway–and once again bury it. No other way west, save for the railroad. So, it’s back to hiking the eastbound emergency lane, I-40–six miles to the next exit.
The hike is going great for the first three miles. Then, and in just a moment, all forward motion ceases–as I find myself staring directly into the battering ram on a California Highway Patrol squad car. No siren, no flashing lights, but the passenger window goes down. I walk around, bend down, and look in. A brief cordial exchange then, “You can’t walk on the interstate.” the expressionless remark from the officer. He isn’t interested in my pitch, doesn’t even ask for my I.D. “You can get in and I’ll take you to the next exit, or you can go climb the fence–you can’t walk on the interstate.” no grin, no grimace, just a monotone matter-of-fact. I tell him I’m going right now and climb the fence. He’s satisfied with that. I’m gone; he’s gone.
Well, I take back anything nasty I might have ever said about the BNSF. The railroad and their service road, a fine one, is right on the other side of the interstate fence–and it’s going right straight to where I want to go!
Ah, and is this not amazing? Climbing to the elevated railroad grade, between the fence and the service road, I happen upon a short, eroded segment of the old paved roadbed. It runs less than 50 yards, disappearing in a wash on one end and buried by the interstate railroad overpass on the other.
The hike along the service road is totally uneventful. A quick, easy bushwhack to US-95 (Route 66), then on to Arrowhead Junction where Rick is waiting, and this day (plus I-40 and the BNSF) is in my rearview…
Back to Top
Wednesday–November 8, 2017
Trail Day–105 Maps 211-212
Trail Mile–13.9/1996.4
Location–Goffs
Our final night in Needles. This morning we’re moving on, but not before we stop at one of Needles’ Route 66 icons, the Wagon Wheel Restaurant. They open at five-thirty and we’re right there–for a great breakfast only a good old mom-n-pop place could possibly offer up.
A short trip back to Arrowhead Junction where I ended my trek yesterday and Rick has me hiking toward Goss well before seven. I’ve had such good fortune with the weather. I’ve certainly chosen the right time to hit the Mojave, mild days, little wind, high temperatures in the low to mid 80s–sure could have been different, though. Yes, much good fortune!
I’m well into the Mojave now, the vegetation noticeably sparse, more rocks and sand, entirely barren peaks around, the sky, a vast, blue dome. Places such as this, the barren, forbidding expanse 360, used to be so terribly intimidating, but no more. My outlook now is one of peaceful serenity, since I no longer mind being made to feel so small.
Today I’m continuing the gradual-but-steady climb that began just after crossing the Colorado River at Needles. Not the least tiring, 
just a constant and steady pull. Rick is right here to check on me, then to come by again before I reach Goss. With this short-mileage day I’m in before noon.
From Goss, we head for Ludlow and the Ludlow Motel and Cafe. Rick has booked us in here for a week, compliments of many dear friends from around Flagg Mountain, who’ve chipped in, including Big John, Sipsey John, Rick and others. We’ll be returning here for the next four days from the east. Then, as I reach and pass through Ludlow, two days from the west. Thanks dear friends, your thoughtful generosity is making this journey so much easier!
Over the next few days, as this remarkable journey winds down, I’ll be devoting a short bit of my daily journal–in order to recognize and thank my faithful sponsors. Their steadfast support, their generosity–they’ve enabled me to continue trekking at age 79. For you see, the very best, state of the art, lightweight gear is expensive, and there’s just no way I could afford much if any of it. I’m still able to do the miles, but I’m no longer able to lug the weight. Only with their help and support have I been able to continue on.
So, I’ll start at the beginning, with my first and by far my longest sponsor, Travel Country Outdoors, located in Altamonte Springs, Florida. They have a beautiful show room that’s filled with everything outdoors.
If you’ve read my first book, Ten Million Steps, you already know the pivotal part Travel Country Outdoors played in saving my first long trek, Odyssey 1998. The very first day out I managed to set my pack on fire, ruining it, plus most of my gear–including my clothing, my sleeping bag, and my pack. I contacted Mike Plante, General Manager, Travel Country Outdoors. At his urging, I went to Altamonte Springs, to Travel Country Outdoors, where I was outfitted with the latest and finest gear. Mike literally saved my hike, which, (without his help) might well have been my last. Little did I know how fateful a time that was.
Mike is still General Manager of Travel Country Outdoors, and to this day, one of my most-dear friends. I owe my “Hiking Career” entirely to you, Mike–thanks!
I highly recommend Travel Country Outdoors. Visit them online or at Altamonte Springs–and tell them Nimblewill sent you!
Back to Top
Thursday–November 9, 2017
Trail Day–106 Map 212
Trail Mile–17.1/2013.5
Location–Essex
Our first night in Ludlow, at the Ludlow Motel. Fine accommodations! I’ll be back here six more nights, shuttled to and from the National Trails Highway (Route 66), first by 
Rick, then by Chris Kent (another dear friend from my time at Flagg Mountain).
A long drive, some 70 miles back to Goffs, but Rick has me hiking toward Essex by seven, my destination for today.
Temperatures are in the low 60s to start, so I’ve my wind jacket on for the first time in a week. The sky is perfectly clear, no wind, and the desert warms up nicely (low 80s) by ten. My jacket comes off as I’m set to enjoy another perfect Odyssey 2017 hiking day.
It’s ten miles from Goffs to Fenner (Najha’s Desert Oasis, at I-40, Exit 107). I’m in well before eleven–time for lunch!
West of Desert Oasis, both Route 66 and the National Trails Highway are barricaded. But locals tell us the road is drivable. So Rick ignores them and goes around. I’ve a short hike now, seven miles on to Essex, to finish this day. A couple of photo ops at Essex, the old post office and an abandoned gas station/cafe.
Just as we’re preparing to leave, three cyclists ride up. It’s Jake, Timmy, and Annie from Florida. They picked up Route 66 in Missouri and are bound for Santa Monica. There are some bridges out west of here, which can be gotten past by going across the washes. They were aware of the barricades but didn’t know they could get through. Rick had checked them all out earlier today, so was able to reassure them–to their obvious relief. Good luck to you all, I’ll be coming along behind.
There’s a Dairy Queen across the interstate from Ludlow, and we’re right there for supper. Here we meet, then sit and have our meal with Allan, a trucker from Alabama. He and Rick have mutual friends. Interesting conversation. Allan has driven over four million miles during his career–incident free!
In our room now, I’m working my journal entry for today while Rick goes for ice cream. Ha, and I had fretted so over crossing the Mojave Desert…
Back to Top
Friday–November 10, 2017
Trail Day–107 Maps 212-214
Trail Mile–17.9/2031.4
Location–Cadiz Summit
Up at 4:30 this morning. Want to have my pack shouldered and sticks clicking before sunrise. Not a long day today–18 miles, but the earlier I get trekking the earlier to finish.
And it’s another glorious day to be crossing the Mojave Desert, just perfect weather–highs in the high 70s and no wind. I’m nearing the halfway point in crossing the Mojave now. Will reach Ludlow tomorrow. Two more weeks and I’ll be at the Santa Monica Pier–to finish Route 66, 2,300 miles, 121 days.
I’m healthy and strong, of good spirit. I have prayed for strength and patience–the only way to succeed with this kind of endeavor. Your prayers and best wishes have been an enormous benefit, and have provided me confidence and good cheer–thanks!
The old highway is closed through this segment today–four bridges that cross the dry washes, and there are many, four are out, due to the rampaging floods caused by recent monsoons. I simply walk across or around them. Good bypass ways have been beat down in the gulches, so Rick is also able to pass.
I complete this day’s trek by one. Tomorrow, on the other side of Cadiz Summit, I’ll be on the “Forrest Gump” section of Route 66, where, in that wildly popular film, he turned around and went home.
This afternoon, before returning to Ludlow, Rick drove me to the Mojave Desert National Preserve Visitor Center in Kelso. My dear friend “Sipsey John” Randolph helped prepare the legal path, which successfully established the Preserve. So, I definitely wanted to come to this place.
Ha, should you per-chance hear a faint, far off whirring and clicking sound, that’s just Nimblewill making his way across the Mojave…
Back to Top
Saturday–November 11, 2017
Trail Day–108 Maps 214-215
Trail Mile–22.7/2054.1
Location–Bagdad
Last evening at the Mojave Preserve Visitor Center we met a couple from Munich, Germany, Ludwig and Ida Lutz. Actually, their motor home first got our attention. Never saw one like it before, or the license plate that was on it. Made in Germany for folks in Germany, I guess. They had it shipped to Nova Scotia and from there, since May, have been touring the states, including Alaska. From California they’re headed southeast to Florida. A couple of vagabonds for sure. Both spoke fluent English–just a delightful couple to meet and talk with.
Another day to hit the road before sunrise. Rick has me back to Cadiz Summit at six. Beautiful photo ops as the sun comes up to cast its glow across the peaks.
I was told that the famous scene in which Forrest Gump stopped running and decided to go home was filmed near here, but I now know it wasn’t. It was shot in National Monument Park, Utah. I’ve a fascination with it as folks frequently tell me I’m like Forrest Gump. My reply is always, “Forrest was smart, he quit and went home–I’m still going.” Anyway, and for that reason, I was hoping to visit the place!
Just over the summit at Cadiz there’s a short section of intact early alignment roadbed, and I’m able to get a couple of good photos. Interesting how much of it has washed away over the years, and the rest of it is buried under the later alignment.
Coming off the summit there’s a very long straightaway section that drops to the desert floor, runs across, then climbs the far side–a good ten miles. Head down and hammer time.
Chambliss, Amboy, Bagdad (that’s how it’s spelled), all have pretty much become ghost towns. In Chambliss, the Road Runner’s Retreat and Cafe are sinking into the ground. In Amboy, Roy’s cafe no longer serves food, just snacks and pop, the motel long ago closed. And in Bagdad, nothing remains of Bagdad, just a wide place in the road–literally.
All-in-all, it’s been another grand hiking day–as I reach “The Heart of the Mojave.”
Back to Top
Sunday–November 12, 2017
Trail Day–109 Maps 215-216
Trail Mile–20.3/2074.4
Location–Ludlow, then on toward I-40 Rest Area
We’ve recently made a habit of getting up between four and four-thirty, and with the shorter driving distance each morning, I’m getting started earlier. Today I’m trekking west well before six–from the tree with the circle of rocks, that’s Bagdad! Just a magical time of day–especially for photo ops.
Bridges out here along Route 66 must have been built from west to east. These were built in 1952, those east of here, 1953.
The orange tire directs you to the village of Siberia (ruins).
And on the eastern outskirts of Ludlow, the remains of an old business, and the associated sign.
Starting early gets me finished early. With a good bit of daylight remaining, with it being cool and overcast, a gentle breeze to my back, I decide to hike a ways in toward Barstow.
Evening, Rick takes me back to the Ludlow Motel where we’ve been staying…
Back to Top
Monday–November 13, 2017
Trail Day–110 Maps 217-218
Trail Mile–22.4/2096.8
Location–I-40 Rest Area
My earliest start for this trek–5:30. A cool morning, windbreak on, hood up, hands in my pockets. Ah, but the day warms nicely by ten.
I’m back running side-by-side with BNSF and I-40 again–just when I thought I’d put them behind, they’re both right back. This morning it’s BNSF, then I-40, then me (Route 66), south to north in that order. Then I-40 swaps places with Route 66, then Route 66 crosses the BNSF, and finally, BNSF goes under I-40. So here we are, and here we remain, at least to the I-40 rest area, my destination for today.
More stark (seemingly) forbidden desert, the infamous Mojave. “You have had to yield to my ways. You do not intimidate me oh most powerful of Nature’s alluring ways. You with your impossibly long, infinite, straight path that recedes with every step, dancing joyfully on a mirage of brightness beyond the hazy blue. You do not control my thoughts.”
Dear friend, Rick, your presence, your help and support, which you’ve selflessly lavished upon me–these times are destined to become memorable, very special times…
Back to Top
Tuesday–November 14, 2017
Trail Day–111 Maps 218-219
Trail Mile–21.3/2118.1
Location–Daggett
Another fine day coming on. Rick gets me back to the I-40 Rest Area, and I’m hiking well before six. These very 
cool mornings lead to warm, pleasant afternoons, not at all expected, but taken all the same, no questions asked.
The highlight of this day is visiting the Sidewinder (Bagdad) Cafe. I’ve heard a lot about it, read about it. Not a long hike to get here this morning, I arrive in time for breakfast. Greeting me are the owner, Andree, and Michael, her waiter for the past 19 years. A warm welcome from both. When Andree hears what my hike is about, breakfast is on Bagdad Cafe, for me and for Rick. Thanks, Andree!
At the table next, a couple from France, Christophe and Christine. Both speak English quite well. This is their second trip to America. On this one they’re headed for the Grand Canyon.
In 1987, a movie entitled “Bagdad Cafe” was filmed here, starring Jack Palance, among others. Click for a very nice tribute to the film–and to Bagdad Cafe.
In awhile I pass a grove, but a grove of what? Definitely drought resistant whatever they are. Find out later they’re pistachio trees.
Shortly after departing the cafe, the wind gets to cranking, 10, 15, then 20, gusting to 30–coming directly from the west. Makes for tough going on through to Daggett, my destination for today. Rick kept a close eye on me…
Back to Top
Wednesday–November 15, 2017
Trail Day–112 Maps 219-223
Trail Mile–21.4/2139.5
Location–Johnston’s Corner
As Rick returns me to the highway this morning, a quiet time, a time to reflect on these seemingly endless miles it’s taken to cross the Mojave–under the watchful eye and constant care provided by Rick. In just a few moments he’ll patiently wait as I get my pack shouldered and prepare for another day on this old highway, Route 66–then he’ll be gone. For, Rick must return home now, a very long distance. And so, it is that moment; I’m just no good at this, at saying good-bye. You’ve been so kind and helpful, Rick, at such a pivotal point in this journey; you’ve seen me safely across the Mojave Desert. Thank you! Be safe till we meet again, dear friend.
Just ahead, just west of Daggett, passage along Route 66 is interrupted by the Marine Corps Supply Depot. The old highway runs straight through, is gated, with MP Security both ends. Hey, but I’ve been granted permission to pass. For, Rick had spoken to folks here yesterday. He’d told them about my hike. So, reaching the gate, I’m greeted by Keith and Officer Jesus. I no more enter than I’m provided escort. It’s immediately evident the Marine personnel here are aware of my journey. They honk, wave, cheer me on, wish me well. I’m photographed, then interviewed by Keith. He stays with me from the moment I enter the east gate, till I exit the west gate. Thank you, dear Marines, you’ve given me great energy this morning. Yes, thank you!
It’s a short distance on to Barstow and the Route 66 Motel, one of the most well-known icons anywhere along the old road. Many Route 66-related places here, including the Harvey House (Barstow train depot) and Del Taco. I also find this little shop, Joyeria Jesenia–and Teresa Velasquez, who runs the place. She’s a seamstress–and has time to mend my pitiful wore out hiking shorts. I thought I could make them make it through to Santa Monica. However, I finally realize that if I don’t get all the wasted tatters stitched back together, I’ll soon be facing arrest for indecent exposure.
Arriving Route 66 Motel, I’m greeted by Mary. She and husband, Victor, have managed (cared for, nurtured, made Route 66 Motel what it is) for the past 35 years. It’s an absolutely one-of-a-kind place. Victor, Mary, thanks for your kindness and generosity to this tired old intrepid. More great energy from these new friends–in the form of contagious enthusiasm!
Early evening now, arriving here at Route 66 Motel from Los Angeles, Markus Hilgert. Markus had contacted me awhile back expressing interest in doing a short documentary about me and my Route 66 trek, and we spend a bit of preliminary time together.
Late, late evening, now arrives Chris Kent from Montgomery. He drove to Atlanta this morning, flew to Las Vegas this afternoon, then rented a car and drove to Barstow. Chris will be supporting me from here, up and over the San Bernadino Mountains, then down and into Central Valley. Another wonderful friend who’s spent much time on Flagg Mountain, here now to help and support me.
My-oh-my, what an emotion-filled, action-packed day this has been. Lucky me–am I not fortunate to have such great friends!
Back to Top
Thursday–November 16, 2017
Trail Day–113 Maps
Trail Mile–23.5/2163.0
Location–Mojave Heights
Victor and Mary have taken perfect care of their Route 66 Motel. Though very old (the oldest motor court in Barstow), it’s been modernized and proved most comfortable.
My trek continues this morning from Johnston’s Corner. Chris has me here, pack shouldered and hiking by six. Markus is also here, his camera shouldered, to start right out with me on his Segway, filming the entire time. A short while later, on down the road, he’s got his drone hovering above, filming from an entirely different angle.
Today is the day for folks to stop, inquire about what I’m doing out here, then to encourage me. First it’s Terry. He wants to get to hiking, but right now he has to have his left foot amputated. Crushed it in a machinery accident. Second, Chris and Ryan. They work for BNSF. Chris had seen me a month ago clear back in New Mexico!
Just before noon I reach the Molly Brown Cafe. Time for lunch, so in we go. A fine meal–and conversation with Joseph, Ken, and Douglas at the next table over. They’d finished their lunch and were preparing to leave, but then stayed. We enjoy a good long chat. Douglas then pays for our lunch! As we prepare to go, the waitresses all come to me, encourage me and wish me well.
A mile on down the road I reach Bottle Ranch, a totally fascinating place, created and managed by an equally fascinating fellow–Elmer. Thousands of (mostly) wine bottles hung on metal pegs welded to tall steel posts stuck in the ground. We take the tour, then tarry–a thoroughly enjoyable time talking with Elmer. Markus keeps his camera rolling.
It’s quarter-to-five and turning dark by the time I cross the old box frame bridge to enter Mojave Heights. Heavy traffic most the entire day, narrow shoulders. Relieved to get this one behind me…
Back to Top
Friday–November 17, 2017
Trail Day–114 Maps 224-226
Trail Mile–17.6/2180.6
Location–Summit Inn (ruins near Cajon Summit)
The Windham WorldMark (timeshare) at Big Bear Lake, where Chris secured a “room” for us (for two nights) is, without a doubt, the finest facility I’ve ever stayed in while on a hike. It’s not a suite, certainly not a motel room; it could be better described as a luxury two-bedroom apartment, complete with all the amenities, including a washer and dryer. A great stay, and we’ll be right back here again tonight.
I’d like to get my hike in early, hopefully by two, so we’re up and out well before first light. There’s a mom-n-pop on the way back to Mojave Heights. We’re in good shape time-wise, so we take time for breakfast. Egg and cheese omelette, plus sourdough toast and hash browns, and my tank’s topped off for this day.
The sun is just coming up when I reach downtown Victorville. The California Route 66 Museum is located here, but I’m way too early. They’ll be open today, so maybe later.
Markus will be with me again today, perhaps tomorrow too, as he continues getting footage for his documentary. He’s mastered the hands-free use of his Segway and is able to freely move here and there, all around me, positioning his camera for shots from every angle. We’re both having fun with this!
Late afternoon now, my trek completed for today, we head back to Victorville. We’re in luck this time, as the California Route 66 “Where the Trails Meet” Museum is open. Here we meet Susan, Museum Director, also docents Bill and Barbara. Bill has been volunteering here for over 16 years. I’m so glad we made the effort to return. It’s a remarkable facility, chock full of Route 66 information and memorability. “You have a Route 66 hat?” asks Sue. When I shake my head no, she quickly places one on my head! Sue, Barb, Bill, thanks for your kindness to us and for your service to Route 66 California.
It was dark when we climbed the mountain to Big Bear yesterday evening, so we were unable to enjoy the many views from the highway as it twisted and climbed the mountain. Getting up and out early has really paid off for us this afternoon. Ah, and what fond memories from the past for me, Odyssey 2008. The Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail passes Big Bear Lake. Yes, happy, joy-filled memories from that time…
Back to Top
Saturday–November 18, 2017
Trail Day–115 Maps 226-230
Trail Mile–14.6/2195.2
Location–Devore
Another very comfortable (and quiet) night at Big Bear. Nineteen degrees and a hard freeze up here last night. We’re just shy of 7,000 feet. Snow machines are running.
As we descend this morning, the temperature rises. In the San Bernadino Valley it’ll get up into the high seventies today.
It’s nine when we reach Cajon Summit. Here are the remains of Summit Inn, nothing now but a gravel parking lot–and the old Summit Inn sign. Sadly, the Historic Summit Inn burned to the ground last year.
Markus is waiting for us here, to continue filming for his documentary, which will be aired in Germany–in German. He’s rented a SUV to get down the rugged, dirt road descent to Cajon Junction.
It’s going to be another grand hiking day as Chris and Markus accompany me. Dropping off the Summit we’ll descend some 3,000 feet to the foothills of San Bernadino Valley. This hike today will take us along one of the most historic of all places along Historic Route 66. Cajon Pass separates the San Gabriel Mountains from the San Bernadino Mountains. This pass was the only pass through which the first wagon trains could reach Central Valley. Here, the Mojave Trail, the Mormon Trail, and the Old Spanish Trail converged. Through this pass into the Valley traveled Indians, explorers, trappers, and missionaries–and pioneers.
By noon we’ve descended to Wagon Train Road, McDonald’s, and I-15. Here stands a monument to commemorate those 1845 trails, the Salt Lake and Santa Fe. And here, for a short distance I again hike on the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail. I passed this same way during Odyssey 2008. Another melancholy moment for me. I remember Gordon, who supported me the entire way that year. He was waiting patiently for me (as always) here at the monument. Gordon passed away this past spring. I sorely miss you, dear friend.
Hiking on down Wagon Train Road (Route 66), a vehicle stops and a couple come to greet me, “Nimblewill!” It’s Jay and Laurie. They’re hikers from Apple Valley. Our paths crossed a long time ago–on the trail. Following my daily journal entries, and looking at my itinerary, they knew just where to find me. A wonderful surprise seeing you again, Jay and Laurie. Thanks for taking time to track me down today.
Evening now, and at the upper reaches of San Bernadino Valley, we bid farewell to Markus, and continue on to Foothills Boulevard–and a wonderful surprise. Chris has reserved one of the wigwams at the historic (grand Route 66 icon) Wigwam Motel. It’s owned and managed by Kumar, a “Roadie” for sure. He was born in the Foothills Motel right up the “road,” the oldest motel in San Bernadino (owned by his parents). He was born there because his mother couldn’t make it to the hospital! His father was an engineer who helped build Route 66. Kumar has toured the Mother Road off and on most of his life. A far away glint in his eye as he mulls moving on, from owning and managing the Wigwam, to…
Late evening now, we visit Randy and Gail, friends of Chris, who live nearby in the valley. Then we drive to LAX to pick up Nathan Wright, another dear friend from Flagg Mountain who’ll be hiking the entire valley with me, to the finish at Santa Monica Pier.
Another amazing day, folks, another memorable one…
Sunday–November 19, 2017
Trail Day–116 Maps 229-230
Trail Mile–11.6/2206.8
Location–San Bernadino, then on toward Rancho Cucamonga
Kumar, owner and inn keep at Wigwam Motel–a most gracious host. Folks have been coming and going along Route 66 for years, many staying at Kumar’s place, the Wigwam Motel. So, how is it possible our stay could be special? How could it be any different than that of near countless others? Ah, and that’s the secret to Kumar’s success, because our stay is different and special. Kumar has made sure of that. Thanks, Kumar, for your kindness to us; thanks for your friendship!
Chris will be hiking with me today. There’s no hurry getting going this morning, as we’ve less than 12 miles to go to reach San Bernadino. That’s where Route 66 turns west onto 7th/Foothills Boulevard, our destination for today–and where begins the seventy-five miles of stoplights that stretch to Santa Monica.
First thing, and heading back to Devore, we’re over to Tony’s for breakfast. Pretty typical fifties era place. Neat and clean, very busy, good food! A little before ten, breakfast completed, we’re finally on the road. Then, in no
more than half-an-hour, two vehicles slow then turn off behind us, folks honking and waving. I recognize them right away, Gary, Stephanie, and daughter, Katrina, from Albuquerque, dear friends made while trekking this old Mother Road. They’re friends with Kumar, definite Roadies, and will be staying at the Wigwam Motel tonight. We’ll be there again tonight, too.
With Chris hiking along today, the task of shuttling/support goes to Nathan. Not a bad job, though–driving the new Mercedes around that Chris rented in Las Vegas.
Evening now, back to our room at the Wigwam Motel, Gary and Stephanie invite us all out to dinner to the Mitla Cafe, a Historic Route 66 icon (now celebrating their 80th year). We share a grand time. More fine food, more great company…
Back to Top
Monday–November 20, 2017
Trail Day–117 Maps 230-233
Trail Mile–16.1/2222.9
Location–Rancho Cucamonga, then on toward Azusa
Our final night at the Wigwam Motel. Another quiet, restful time. It was a real pleasure meeting you, Kumar. I wish you all the best in the future, wherever you may go, whatever you choose to do.
We’re all up early as Nathan and I need to get going this morning. We’ve worked out our plans for these final five days, and here they are:
From here at the Wigwam Motel it’s 76 miles to the Santa
Monica Pier, give or take. We’re going to trek a twenty today, then two more twenties, tomorrow and Wednesday. That’ll leave around sixteen miles to finish this trek, Odyssey 2017. On Thursday morning we’ll knock out a ten–then to be picked up by Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina. We’ve been invited to Thanksgiving Dinner with them, and they’ll be putting us up Thursday night. Then Friday morning, Nathan and I will hike the six or so miles on down to the Santa Monica Pier, the end of Route 66.
Were out just before sunrise to another glorious day. Forecast for today (and on through Friday) is for clear to partly cloudy skies, highs in the high seventies/low eighties, variable winds, with zero chance of rain. Ha, not hard to figure out why over thirteen million people live in this valley where I’m now hiking!
A couple of famous 66-era icons along today, Bono’s Deli plus Bono’s Orange (1936), and the Richfield Cucamonga Service Station (1915).
We had sidewalks or bike lanes nearly the entire way today, and drivers were most courteous at the intersections (20 miles of them). By three-thirty this first of three-in-a-row twenty-milers is completed. Chris is waiting patiently for us then whisks us away to the Motel 6 in Arcadia…
Back to Top
Tuesday–November 21, 2017
Trail Day–118 Maps
Trail Mile–18.5/2241.4
Location–Azusa, then on toward Pasadena
The Motel 6 that Chris found for us worked just fine last night. It’s exactly twenty miles from where we ended our hike yesterday evening. And the reason the distance is important? Another sad time for me today, saying farewell to Chris. He must return home now to be with his family and get back to work. Thanks, Chris, for coming to be with us; thanks for your encouragement and support!
So, we no longer have the luxury of support–to be picked up and shuttled around. The Motel 6 Chris scouted out is directly on Route 66. So, this evening we’ll hike right back here, to spend another night, then hike right back out tomorrow!
Our trek yesterday had us passing through Upland, Rialto, and Rancho Cucamonga. Today, this old Mother Road will carry us through the Central Valley communities of Claremont, San Dimas, Azusa, Duarte, Monrovia, and Arcadia. It’ll be an entirely seamless trek, however, as we’ll not know when we’ve left one town to enter the next.
Route 66 era icons today, Azusa Foothill Drive-In Theater (1961) and the Van de Kamp’s Windmill (1967).
Tomorrow, Nathan and I will hike through Los Angeles on our last 20-mile day. We’ll finish on Santa Monica Boulevard just 16 miles east of the Santa Monica Pier. Been California Dreamin’ a long, long time folks, and it’s all over now but the shouting…
Wednesday–November 22, 2017
Trail Day–119 Maps 235-239
Trail Mile–14.8/2256.2
Location–Pasadena, then on toward West Hollywood
Our final night at the Motel 6 in Arcadia–another quiet, restful night.
Today will be the last of a series of three twenty-mile days. So, we’re up early and out the door just after six. It’ll be another long day of hammering the concrete and tarmac. Nathan has a hotspot on his right foot he’s been duct-taping, and my old feet are just tired from the constant, daily hammering.
Just across Colorado Boulevard (Route 66) Is the Santa Anita Racetrack. During WWII it was converted into a concentration camp, which housed over 20,000 Japanese Americans.
Our trek today will take us through East Pasadena, Pasadena, Highland Park, Chinatown, Los Angeles and into West Hollywood–entirely on sidewalks and bicycle lanes.
Before seven we’re at Top’s (1952), a hamburger place that also serves a mighty fine breakfast. Could have started this day without my windbreak, but for sure it comes off here. Going to be another hot one, but no complaints from me.
Like yesterday, one city just seems to flow right into the next, save for a couple–Highland Park and Chinatown. The first is a typical block after block of “seen it’s better day” sort of place, lots 
of abandoned and shuttered buildings. The second, Chinatown, an absolutely chaotic place, what with all the street vendors and people hurrying every which way.
Mid-afternoon, fortunate to have crossed all the streets safely, dodged the traffic, and otherwise made all the right turns, we arrive at the Hollywood Hotel, our destination for today…
Back to Top
Thursday–November 23, 2017
Trail Day–120 Maps 239-241
Trail Mile–19.3/2275.5
Location–West Hollywood, then on toward Santa Monica Pier
Nathan’s friend, Shirley, said “no way” when she found out we planned to stealth camp somewhere around Hollywood on Santa Monica Boulevard. “You find a room; I’m paying for it.” Nathan was told. Ah, and was she right, and was that a blessing. The streets of East Hollywood and Hollywood, not what you’d consider to be the finest neighborhoods. Passing through, we found everything barricaded, both sides of the street–for miles. Six to eight foot high wrought iron stockade fencing and padlocked gates, even the street-front stores, fortified like a prison compound. The side streets, narrow residential lots. Venture down one, even during daytime, probably not a good idea. Many street people. Every place suitable for ducking into and camping for the night, already taken by the local vagrants. Yes, a true blessing; thanks, Shirley!
And the Hollywood Hotel? It’s located just off Santa Monica Boulevard on Vermont Avenue, less than a mile from where we’d hoped to stealth camp. Nathan found it through a booking agency. I’m daily amazed at how this journey continues to be charmed!
We’re now just 14 miles from the Santa Monica Pier. This morning we plan to hike 11 of them, leaving three for tomorrow morning. You may recall, in my journal entry Monday, I mentioned we’d been invited to Thanksgiving dinner by Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina, folks (now dear friends) I met on Route 66 way back in Illinois. Ah, and those plans have worked out perfectly, as Nathan and I are to meet them at noon at the corner of Armacost and Santa Monica Boulevard. From there we’ll be taken the short distance to one of Hollywood’s most famous Route 66 icons, Barney’s Beanery (1920).
As we trek along this morning, we’re only three miles from the HOLLYWOOD sign located on Mt. Lee. Some very good photo opportunities; I line the sign up between a few street openings along.
This morning we pass through the (metro) cities of West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and Century City, all considered part of the West Los Angeles sprawl. This area of “town” is much newer and a whole lot cleaner. Century City could just as well be named Tower City–for the towering glass-faced buildings reaching to the heavens. More remarkable pictures. Vastly different scenery than along your typical backcountry hike through the “green tunnel.”
Twelve straight up, our 11 miles completed, comes Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina to pick us up and take us to Thanksgiving dinner at Barney’s. And what a wonderful holiday meal; turkey with all the trimmings, topped off with pie a-la-mode!
Early afternoon now, Gary drives us to the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I take pictures of the foot/hand prints of some of my favorite stars. You probably won’t recognize many of them–from a long time ago.
Late evening, Gary drives us to the Windham Hotel, which is less than a block from the Santa Monica Pier. Gary and Stephanie, and many “Roadie” friends of theirs have 
chipped in (a bunch) to put Nathan and me up here. A remarkable ending to a most memorable day.
Thanks Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina for the great Thanksgiving banquet! And thank you again, and your many “Roadie” friends for your kindness, for this room in the luxurious Windham Hotel. The thoughtful card you gave me at Barney’s is signed by: Penny Black, Amy Stoker, Delvin Harbour, Judy Walker, Hunter Bachrach, Giesla Hoelchar, Jeri Metterle, Roaming Buffalo Durkin, Blue Miller, Ken Youden, Brenda St. Clair, Ian Bowan, Nick Gerlich, Denny Gibson, Dora Meroney, Mike May, Joyce Cole, Cyndie Sands, Anita Shaw, Sarah Moore, and Gary, Stephanie, and Katrina Daggett.
To each of you, thank you for your kindness and generosity; thanks for being part of this charmed and fascinating journey!
Tomorrow morning, Nathan, Gary, Stephanie, Katrina, and Markus, will hike the remaining three miles with me to the Santa Monica Pier, the end of Route 66…
Back to Top
Friday–November 24, 2017
Trail Day–121 Map 241
Trail Mile–19.3/2285.1
Location–Santa Monica Pier
It’s early evening now. I’m sitting alone in Union Station, Los Angeles, a whirlwind of emotions, feelings, and thoughts racing through my head. What an incredible day, an absolutely incredible day. How do I start this final entry; how do I find closure for this amazing and charmed journey, Odyssey 2017 – Route 66! It’s simply not possible to cover everything, to even summarize all I wish to tell you. I’ll just start (and likely conclude) this last and final day–like all the others.
First, though, please indulge me for a moment while I tell you a little about my sponsors–outfitters and gear manufacturers who’ve supplied me with the very best of the best. They’ve made my long journeys not only possible but enjoyable. If you would, please visit their sites, patronize them–and tell them Nimblewill sent you!
- I’ve previously mentioned Travel Country Outdoors, one of my longest and most steadfast sponsor.
- So, too, GVP Gear. Glen Van Peski started this fledgling pack-making cottage industry in his basement many years ago. It’s now developed and grown into one of the foremost lightweight gear manufacturers around, Gossamer Gear. Glen has provided me countless state-of-the-art packs from the very beginning.
- Then there’s LEKI USA, makers of the finest trekking poles. They’ve kept me in hiking sticks for tens of thousands of miles.
- Now for the critically important gear, socks and shoes. Long-distance hiking, for me, the sheer enjoyment of it would not be possible without the support of Bridgedale Socks and Oboz Shoes. When it comes to innovation, these folks are way ahead of the pack.
- My recent treks have involve considerable desert hiking. To succeed under such harsh, unforgiving conditions, keeping a “cool head” is an absolute necessity. That’s where Headsweats comes in!
I managed to sleep well in this lovely room at Windham–provided by many generous Route 66 folks. Six hours was it though; I woke at four and could not go back to sleep.
Nathan and I, Gary and Stephanie, we’re to meet Markus at seven, at the spot where we ended our hike yesterday. As we depart the Windham, and looking toward the beach, we’re close enough that I’m able to get a picture of the pier archway. The sun has yet to rise, so it’s still brilliantly illuminated.
Gary calls Uber and in less than five minutes a fellow comes to drive us back up Santa Monica Boulevard. Ah, and what good timing as we’re all together–to be welcomed by another glorious California Central Valley morning. We get rolling as Markus once again gets his camera rolling.
Time flies as I enjoy the company of these dear friends. And before I know it, “There’s 5th.” 
exclaims Gary.”You’re almost there.” In moments I see the ocean, then the bronze Will Rogers Highway marker. I can no longer contain my emotions. As I break into tears my friends gather around, and others come to greet me and be by my side.
Just before eight-thirty I’m standing next the “Santa Monica 66 End of the Trail” sign on Santa Monica Pier. Here, but for the Grace of God, Odyssey 2017 comes to an end.
Ah, dear friends, from sea to shining sea–America, profoundly magnificent, divinely blessed. Yes! God Bless the USA…
Back to Top