I’m not much for using Facebook as an emotional sounding board; indeed, I much prefer using this medium for hosting contentious political discussions, promoting all things Wheeling, sharing the occasional photo, and harboring cat jokes (which until recently had not been made at my own expense). But today is a sad day for yours truly, as Catherine OConnor has headed out to our nation’s capital to embark her new career as a high-falutin’ attorney at a prestigious law firm. Newton’s laws being Newton’s laws, Wheeling’s loss is of course DC’s gain. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It just means that Wheeling and I (and Porter and Germ) will have to be steadfast in our efforts to lure her away from the big city as much as a career in Big Law permits. We’re already working on it. We got this. And so in the meantime, I figured that now was as good as any to share some of obligatory musings and observations I collected during the madness that was driving some 3,300 miles through thirteen states in seven days with the said Ms. O’Connor: 1. First and foremost, if you want to get the most out of your time on a sight-seeing trip, make sure you travel with a planner. My own tendency on such trips is to set a few aspirational goals (as in ‘I must see X, Y, and Z’) and then let it all unfold in due course. Such a strategy can be less rigorous and can nevertheless lead to some serendipitous finds, but you always run the risk of missing out on some good stuff. By contrast, traveling with someone who maps out ambitious daily agendas and researches in advance the do’s and don’ts of each area visited can be immensely rewarding—albeit utterly exhausting. And this was such a trip. I feel far more acquainted with America today than I did a week ago, and it is in large part due to my being pushed to imbibe as much of this country as possible over a seven-day stretch. 2. This may be stating the obvious, but the worst way to see America by driving is taking Interstate highways from city to city. Yes, such roadways offer safer and faster travel between destinations, but as my mother always reminds me, it should be about the journey, not the destination. And only by driving on the state routes and back roads can one truly experience the uniqueness of each American town, city, and countryside. Why? Because our Interstates have been designed (with some exceptions) to create a barrier between drivers and localities. Their purpose is to move cars, not showcase sights and scenery. They offer no immersion into the culture of the cities they bisect. If you want to see America, you need to travel on roads that take you into communities, not through, around, or over them. 3. Toledo, Ohio was the first serious stop on our journey. Like many Rust Belt cities, its downtown bears all the signs of a place that once was something special but is now trying to figure how to remain relevant. And like my beloved Wheeling, it offers terrific historical architecture nestled within a downtown streetscape that is riddled with vacancy. But there are signs of life to be seen if you look hard enough. And based on my personal observations, I wouldn’t count Toledo out yet. 4. Our next major stop was South Bend, Indiana. The first thing we noted was that its residents—at least the ones we met—are freakishly nice. Our second takeaway was that Notre Dame’s campus is sublime. Filled with elegant buildings maintained to the point that they looked to have been built the preceding day, spacious greens, two lakes, and countless majestic trees, it has to rival any campus in America. 5. We didn’t really make any major stops in Illinois, but without a doubt Chicago Heights (just south of Chicago proper) was the most depressing place we transgressed all week. Driving across bump after bump of its crumbling roads left the distinct impression of a failed community. I hope we were wrong. 6. East Davenport, Iowa is charming. Very impressive conversion of several rows of older buildings into a very fresh, pedestrian-friendly streetscape complete with a free parking lot. 7. More than any other town I’ve seen, West Branch, Iowa has figured out how to make its one claim to fame—being the birthplace of a generally unpopular U.S. President—define its economy and overall feel. Everything we saw there was laden with Herbert Hoover nostalgia, and it seemed to work for West Branch. And the one takeaway from our brief visit through the Presidential Library there was that whether or not you are a fan of Herbert Hoover the President, his life left few stones unturned. 8. As I noted in a prior post, I was thoroughly surprised by Omaha, Nebraska. It didn’t feel like the bland Midwestern city I’d envisaged. It instead felt very cosmopolitan, very hip, very alive. And our morning walk through the neighborhood of Dundee was mesmerizing. Beautiful Victorian house after beautiful Victorian house, all preserved and manicured with considerable care. Seeing Warren Buffett’s house was probably the least interesting part of this walk, though it offered an obvious selfie—errrr . . . ‘ussie’—opportunity. 9. South Dakota didn’t disappoint. The Badlands were spectacular, and a two-hour hike presented us with too many stunning vistas to photograph (my iPhone camera actually filled up). But the best part may have been stumbling upon two Bighorn Sheep rams resting along one of the trails, even if my first sight of them from a distance (strangely) created the impression I was hiking through Tatooine and had come upon two Tusken Raiders. (You had to be there, but trust me.) Anyway, not being an expert on Ovis canadensis, I wasn’t sure if we should be nervous, so we opted not to be. And our subsequent Googling confirmed that we really weren’t in danger. But I will say this: Standing near two 300-lb wild animals with massive horns in their natural habitat affords an experience superior to the typical zoo visit. Moving on, we rendezvoused with the delightful Matuya Brand and Brandon Russell and set our sights on Mt. Rushmore, which was exactly what I thought it would be. And then some. It may be a cliché Midwestern destination, but it was well worth the drive. And on our way out of South Dakota, the town of Deadwood stood out as what you’d imagine a prototypical cowboy frontier town to look like. 10. Onto Wyoming, where I didn’t know what to expect. Everything I’ve heard about its glorious scenery was offset in my brain by the fact that it had produced Dick Cheney. And our first major stop in Gillette didn’t exactly assuage my concerns (though the restaurant that Ms. O’Connor found on Yelp was delightful). But as we headed West, things started looking up. For one, there is a stretch of road near Worland that smelled like cake batter. Seriously. And driving through Bighorn National Forest was a joy. We had difficulty going more than two miles without stopping to take a picture. As a minor setback, upon exiting the park, we came across successive towns that smelled like sulfur and ash trays, respectively. But then onto Yellowstone the next day, and wow, just wow. While we never made it to Old Faithful (thanks to a closed road), we did see a serene alpine lake and ‘The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone’, which, from a visual perspective, surpassed the actual Grand Canyon in my humble opinion. And we did see countless holes in the ground emitting hissing sulfuric gas with reckless abandon. While I had expected to see these emissions, nevertheless, seeing steam blowing out of the ground is a useful reminder of how tenuous (and potentially temporary) life on Earth as we know it really is. As is the illusion we cling to of standing on solid ground. 11. We were only briefly in Idaho, and it left few distinct impressions. Caribou-Targhee National Forest was pretty, but it was inevitable that any park coming after Yellowstone might seem just average. The rest of Idaho looked pretty much like the backdrop of the movie Napolean Dynamite, which was filmed there. Which led to a lot of conversation to fill the time. Like how unusual it was for the population in any Wyoming or Idaho city to exceed its altitude. And other nuggets of trivia, like how Arkansas and Kansas don’t share a border. Along the way, as the topic of conversation turned to a certain new feline addition to 1300 Market Street, the said Ms. O’Connor, noting that cats can live for 20 years or more, said this: “Youre going to be a 62-year-old man and have to explain why you have a cat named Germ. Which was uncool. But I digress . . . 12. From a natural sightseeing perspective, Utah was as it has been during each of my prior trips there: unmatched. Mile for mile, I have maintained for many years that no other State offers all the natural splendors of Utah, where you have epic national parks/monuments named Bryce Canyon, Monument Valley, Grand Staircase-Escalante, Zion, Glen Canyon, Arches, Dinosaur, Flaming Gorge, Capital Reef, etc., each of which would easily be the most impressive park in any state not named Wyoming, Arizona, or California. Sadly, our travel schedule didn’t really permit a lot of Utah time on this trip, so we opted for a park neither one of us had heard of previously but which was most convenient for our route: Uinta. And damn if it wasn’t ridiculously gorgeous as well. If you’ve always wanted to walk through an alpine grove of aspen trees, this park is for you. Stunning vistas abounded, and it reminded me very vividly of a trip I had once taken through the Austrian Alps. Good stuff, and I hated to leave. 13. At this point, the two of you still reading this are probably looking for something about Arizona, Nevada, and California, not to mention some grand revelations about human nature from our observations. Sorry to disappoint here, but our time in Arizona and Nevada was brief, and most of our California driving was done through a rather unappealing desert. I will say that I absolutely loved our time in San Diego and Coronado, where we met up with the inimitable Samantha N. Winter to drop off her car (the ostensible purpose of the trip). Of course, the weather was as I had heard it would be: 70 degrees, sunny, zero humidity. Life is just not fair sometimes. To my surprise, however, San Diego had a beautiful district known as the Gaslamp Quarter that was filled with Victorian era architecture that would rival that of any city. As someone who has absorbed all the information he can about Victorian architecture in the past year, it was very interesting to see a Pacific coast town demonstrate such a flurry of construction around the turn of the 20th Century just as had occurred here in Wheeling. (In 1900, Wheeling’s population was more than double that of San Diego, 38,878 to 17,700.) Obviously, one needs to employ caution when seeking to compare two cities that have gone in such vastly different directions, but I couldn’t help but feel that there are lessons offered in San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter streetscape that would serve any city well, let alone a city like Wheeling with so many prominent architectural reminders of its past (and hopefully future) potential. OK, Ive rambled on long enough. Signing off. Its too bad tomorrow is Friday, because Ive been sitting on a number of political rants Ive wanted to make during the past week. Rest assured Ill find some way to fit them into the days and weeks to come. Cheers.
Posted on: Thu, 02 Oct 2014 21:31:49 +0000
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