Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Nebraska, Highway 83...

                                                             

As you can probably tell from the last posting (Sinclair Gas), we are back in Nebraska for another extended amble around the state.  The Sandhills are addictive.  It is always hard to know where to start but it turned out that Highway 83 seemed as good a place as any.  I'm sure that by now, we have seen more of Nebraska than almost any one who is not a state employee, and since I got side tracked and distracted somewhere during my report of our last trip,  I hope for a more comprehensive report this time, but who knows.  Anyway, here's hoping...

     
There are many historic roads in America with stories to tell and sights to be seen, ranging from the A1A that runs along the Atlantic coast of south Florida all the way down to Key West,  to the Pacific Coast Highway along the ragged California coast, and everything in between.   We didn't know it until we were at the end of our journey along the way, but the "in between" route we were on was Highway 83, one of those quietly cult, hypnotically captivating, very American, roads that literally take you through the middle of nowhere,  which was where I needed to be and you probably do too if you had any sense.  If I had only known at the onset, I would have paid a little more attention, maybe.   As it was I did a pretty good job of seeing what there was to see, but to paraphrase Pierre Teilhard de Jardin, experience produces evermore perfect eyes in a world in which there is always more to see, so as always, next time..next time...next time.  It would be nice to get it right the first time.  Till then, intellectual rationalization and quoting obscure 20th century philosophers will have to do.  

Originally, called the Great Plains Highway, before they started to number US roads, the 83 ran in fits and starts, from Swan River,  Manitoba, Canada straight down through the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas,  into Mexico where it enters at Matamoros,  where I lost track of it, possibly because of all the murder and mayhem going on down there,  I won't be going down there anytime soon.   Our time on the 83 was primarily in Nebraska where it bisects the Sandhills, and actually the entire country,  as you can see if you felt like looking at a map.

Throughout the states, it has been designated as a Blue Star Highway to honor those who have served in the armed forces.


I'm not always as attentive to details as I should be, particularly since I did not find out the significance of the 83 till we were at the end of it (for us) in Valentine, NE,, so I had to backtrack on map and cross reference things with my photos to get things right.  It would appear that we picked up the 83 in Northern Kansas after a quick jog south on the 383 into Kansas so that we could check out a little town called Long Island since we come from L.I., NY.  



It was neither long, nor an island, nor much of a town, and it was quite overcast when we got there, and the only person I saw in town to ask questions about this was quite pleasant and engaging, but didn't speak any english.  Go figure.  So I took this overcast picture of the post office 


which I like to do, and we continued on in a mostly cloudy Kansas along the 383 to the 36, where we picked up the Highway 83 in Oberlin and headed north  crossing the border at about 2 pm.   I know this because as we crossed over, the sun began to shine and the first 2 photos I took were of route 89 which is the southernmost intersecting road in Nebraska



and this beauty, about 3/4 of a mile north of the 89, which I did make a point of noting ...


Still south of the Sandhills, this section of Nebraska is good farm land for growing wheat, corn, hay, and whatever else.


 I didn't seem to take any other photos of note on the 27 mile stretch between the Kansas border and McCook, the town where we were spending the night, because it had been a long day, having traveled all the way from Red Cloud that morning and I seemed to spend the day playing hide and seek with the clouds which can be exhausting and frustrating in ways only another photographer could appreciate.


Thus began the beginning of our journey on the historic Great Plains Highway, the 83, little did we know at the time.  To be continued.  Also, thanks to Stew Magnuson for the great background information on his U.S. Route 83 Travel Page web site.  Check it out!!!

                                                                Pablo








Monday, June 18, 2012

Speaking of gas...









Sorry we have been out of touch for a while, but we were ambling.  Jackie and I just got back from a month in the midwest, and while there I became aware of my unexpected pleasure in seeing and frequenting Sinclair service stations, which I had forgotten about and just figured that they no longer existed.  They used to be quite common back east in the 1950's and probably before that, with their green and white pumps and the green dinosaur as their logo.  It was probably the logo that was the thing for me.  By the time I become old enough to drive in the mid 60's there were no longer Sinclair stations in  New York, although I didn't realize it back then or give it a second thought.  So I was quite pleasantly surprised to see loads of Sinclair stations in Nebraska, Missouri, and Iowa, and made a point of using them.  Glad to see they are still around, and wondering why we no longer have them back home.  It would be nice to see Dino while out and about in our neighborhood.




While filling up in Council Bluffs, Iowa as we began our long trek back home, I looked out the window and saw this, and a blog entry just flashed through my mind.   It may be a little ideocryncratic, and of interest to no one but me, but so be it.










This is the Sinclair station just outside of Dunning, Nebraska.  It is a gas station, general store, and cafe, where you can get coffee, hot dogs, have a coke and bag of doritos, and just sit in one of the booths and chat.  Kind of the Bagdad Cafe of Dunning, but nothing quite that exotic.  There is nothing else around for 20 miles in any direction.  The only things that seemed open in Dunning were the bar and the post office (see Dunning posting earlier on in this blog).








In the old part of town in Auburn, Nebraska, a Sinclair station as extinct the the dinosaur himself.




Rockport, Missouri

 Sinclair station at Blunt, South Dakota where we filled up for the last leg of our famous Highway 83 amble before crossing the border to Valentine, Nebraska where we would spend a couple of days.  For some reason, the gas was cheaper in SD at the time.




I'm sure this posting will be of little interest to anyone else, but it did turn out to be an interesting segue back to Nebraska.  The unconscious part of it is the interesting thing.  My last postings before we left, were about the anti-fracking (natural gas related) activity going on in Albany.  I hadn't looked at them prior to posting this, but interestingly (to me anyway) this was titled "Speaking of gas":  Get it?  On a totally unrelated subject, but here we are, back in Nebraska.  So where do I go from here; I'm not quite sure myself, so stay tuned...   

                                                                Pablo