Written: 7 August 2021
Woke up in the morning somewhere into Nebraska.
Was asleep in Denver to the left – and we slept through almost all of Nebraska. The first town sign I saw on Friday morning (Day 70) was for Omaha, Nebraska – right against the border on the map, above. And we were then in Iowa.
And then – corn fields. Lots and lots of corn fields.
Then a bit farther – more corn fields.
The next stretch of travelling was interesting in that the corn fields were interrupted by a single patch of something …
SOYBEANS! The scenery on this leg of the journey was incredibly diverse.
Then more corn fields.
Lots of small towns and railroad tracks – all of which were built around and because of … corn fields.
The settlers here had some kind of hang-up on names starting with “O” (Omaha, Osceola, Ottumwa).
And now, for something completely different (thank you Monty Python)…
About 51 years ago, when I was 20, I drove cross country with three classmates to Ottumwa, Iowa, for the Antique Aircraft Association Fly In, where I got to be a passenger in some of the earliest airplanes. My favorite ride was in a Ryan PT-22 where I was a front seat passenger in an open cockpit with NO PARACHUTE! No room in the cockpit), and yes the pilot did aerobatics. I don’t know if it was the same exact airplane you see below, but it was the same design.
Back to corn…
And there were loads of railroad tracks connecting the towns so they could move corn back and forth.
Houses right against the tracks were the norm in these small towns. Note there were no fences!
Bet you thought there was going to be another picture of a corn field!!!
By this time I was in a corn stupor and missed any photos of entering Chicago. Also (as it turned out) I was on the leading edge of getting really sick with food poisoning and didn’t think much about taking photos.
On the way from Union Station to the hotel in Chinatown,
I started to feel “not so good”, and when we got to the hotel lobby, waiting around did it. Story of THAT sad episode in the next post. Let’s just say that was NOT a fun night – nor the next day. The story of that sad occurrence, one of the genre of travel stories that is always more interesting when being retold than in the moment, will be in the next post.
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