NEBRASKA
Ten miles further we crossed over into Nebraska. Four miles more lay Falls City. I got to thinking about lunch. I thought about that Subway sandwich I missed out on in Parsons. There one was off of Main Street in town. I parked, went in, no other customers, good. Two grouchy women made me a nice cold cut combo foot-long sandwich. Just outside of town was Stanton Lake campground−a city park−that was supposed to have showers. Being a Saturday which is a big no-no in pulling into a campground I was surprised to see only one other camper in the row of eight spots. I parked down by the restroom and went inside. One nice sparkling clean shower. YES! I retrieved my bath backpack and had myself a most wonderful shower washing away all of the horrible humidity soaked on and into my skin. Feeling so refreshed I backed into one of the spots and ate my sandwich. This place was nice. A pretty setting with a small lake all well cared for, peaceful and quiet. Camping with full hook-ups was twenty dollars and to just overnight dry camp was eight-fifty. After a few hours there I decided we would stay. Outside of walkers, a few fishermen and maybe a mom bringing her kids to play on the playground equipment no one else ever came and stayed. The weather was warm but tolerable with no humidity. We couldn’t ask for anything more.
Directly behind us I discovered a bird’s nest had been blown out of the tree during the storm. On the ground were three baby birds, dead. In the tree their parents chirped their loss. When I walked around the lake later I found another nest on the ground, no babies this time. The birds took a huge hit in the storm.
On the other side of the small lake ran a train line. The trains would roll through slowly and there was no horn blowing. In fact the first night I laid in bed as a train rolled through I found it kind of relaxing. (Boy, I never dreamed I would ever be writing those words)
The next morning I was in no hurry to leave. In fact I entertained the thought of staying a second night. I got into cleaning house−a real good clean−and having done that decided, yep, we’ll stay. Now a Sunday even less people were using this lovely park.
Later in the day Beans and I went over under the shady group pavilion to hang out. The RV was fifty yards away. I wished I had a cold beverage with me. Beans was sprawled out on the picnic table. Hmm…I wonder if she’ll stay put? I wrapped her cord around the table leg and told her I’d be right back. I walked on over and she just laid there, not caring in the least being left alone. With drink in hand I hustled back. Still there, relaxed. What a good girl you are. I no sooner took my first sip here comes a train. Uh-oh. At that very moment a gender reveal party over by the recreation cabin set off a small “reveal” firework. BANG! Beans freaked! I picked her up under her armpits so I wouldn’t get scratched by her bicycling hind legs. I hurried as fast as I could hoping my loose short pants wouldn’t fall all the way down tripping me up. We made it to the RV and I tossed her in. That wasn’t a smart move on my part, leaving her there like that.
Just after the sun set we were sitting outside enjoying the cool air. I looked across the way and there stood an outdoor arboretum. Gee, I’d like to see that. I wonder if she’ll walk all the way over there with me? “Come on Beans, let’s go for a walk.” The arboretum stood about fifty yards away. We slowly at cat speed we made our way over to the gardens. It had cement walkways weaving through the brush, trees and plants all native to Nebraska. I couldn’t believe her. She just walked along stopping here and there sniffing plants allowing me to tour the entire setting. We casually walked back home. What a great cat Beans is. I would never have believed that would have happened just to think of it.
I took a farewell shower Monday morning before leaving Stanton Lake for the little town of Brownville (pop 132) which still had a pedestal mounted pay phone on Main Street. That’s why I love touring these small Midwest towns. On the bank of the Missouri River a historical marker claimed this to be one of Lewis and Clark’s campsites on July 15, 1804. Aw but as it so often happens, this was not the exact spot but “somewhere nearby south from here”. Yet an unexpected surprise was a huge steam powered paddle wheel boat sat in view. The steamer was used to dredge the Missouri River of mud that hampered river boat travel. The boat was in service from 1931 to 1976 then dry-docked on the riverbank. Now a museum they held tours on Saturdays and Sundays. Well I missed out of that opportunity it now being a weekday. I walked around the boat now propped up near the river with all sorts of bugs flying around my eyes and ears, shirt sticking to my back with perspiration beading up underneath my hat. I thought of the expedition boys dealing with the same issues and not having a camper to retreat to with a refrigerator inside full of cool beverages.
We continued on north twenty miles to Nebraska City, where there was to be a Walmart…somewhere. I had unknowingly driven right by it. The town must have prohibited Walmart from setting up their typical fifty-foot high sign that could be seen from a mile away. Even on the highway that passed by the store there was no sign. It wasn’t until I turned in onto a small driveway-size road and rounded behind the tall brush and trees could I see the store. And there it was finally, the Walmart sign sitting at ground level stuffed back in among the brush. Well done Nebraska City. Being as I missed the store completely in their business district I spied an Arby’s. I had to turn around anyway. I pulled in and bought another one of their chicken, bacon and Swiss cheese sandwiches. This could become a problem along with Popeye’s chicken sandwiches.
Back at Walmart I enjoyed my lunch then went inside for a few items. We moved north to a camp area on the edge of town along the Missouri River, a Nebraska State Recreation area that required a permit on top of the camp fee. Of course if you were out of state, the permit cost a few dollars extra. It is as if they are saying: We don’t want you out of state people using our resources but if you insist it will cost you extra. And too, as I had encountered this type of extortion in other places, there was no information as to how or where you obtain this required permit. Years back with Sinbad I gave up at the third site that required a permit and stayed there anyway. I just wanted someone of authority to come by so bad. I’d show them the convoluted website and say “Just explain to me how to use this site and where and how I pay and I will gladly do so.” No one ever came by.
We ended up back at Walmart and tried to keep cool. At least it wasn’t humid. Later in the afternoon I noticed something leaking from underneath the RV as a large wet spot stood by the right front tire. Fortunately it turned out to be from the windshield wiper fluid reservoir. It appeared to be leaking washer fluid from the little motor which pumped fluid. Nothing critical but something I would deal with someday, somewhere, somehow.
I discovered on my map there was a Missouri River Basin Lewis and Clark Interpretative Center nearby along the river. There stood a replica of the keelboat they used on the river. I wanted to see that and we were there before nine in the morning. The boat had been constructed as a prop for an IMAX movie and now stood dry docked outside the center. It impressed me as being larger I imagined at nearly fifty-six feet long. It had to be as the boat carried an estimated twelve to fifteen tons of supplies. Two smaller boats called pirogues were also used on the expedition. Beans enjoyed prowling around the area. When done we left for Wyuka Cemetery in the heart of town. The cemetery had a number of unusual tombstones but the one we came to see was a full-sized stone roll-top desk sculpture. This was the marker for the Harding family from the 19th century. Carved into the stone were “books” labeled with the names and dates of the family members. The detail in the carving was well done. In the distance I could see a few full-sized upright stone tree trunks (no branches) and a couple large polished granite spheres, one nearly six feet in diameter. Just to be different someone had a polished granite cube nearly as large mounted as if balanced on one corner of the cube. It was difficult driving The Little House on the Highway around the narrow of roads of the cemetery so I did not. One could spend the better part of a day exploring the unusual markers in Wyuka Cemetery.
We left Nebraska City for the small village of Union about thirty minutes up the road. Union was a town where people made U-turns in the middle of the street on a regular basis. There sitting near the railroad tracks all by itself was a twelve foot by ten foot cement jail house built in 1910 and last used in 1940. I could not imagine how miserable it would be locked up inside during the winter or mid-summer. Plan your crime according to the seasons in case things go haywire. An interesting note about Union was it had a population of 233 in 2010, 242 in 2018 and as the sign on the edge of town today noted 299. People were actually moving here? All the former businesses along the quarter mile long Main Street were closed, boarded up. The only working establishment was the brand new looking post office.
We continued on north through Omaha and the town of Blair. Sinbad and I stayed there in 2014 in their city park. I was curious if I would remember it or not. I wanted to least drive by then continue on. In town I felt it best to fuel up and maybe eat lunch before going any further. After filling up I looked across the main boulevard and saw some nice shady spots in the residential section. We rolled across the street for lunch. We faced another day in the nineties in which the evening before we suffered even with both fans going. The RV soaked up the heat and held it. Outside always seemed nicer or at least more tolerable. Sitting there in the shade was nice. I decided to stay put all day, only moving twice to keep in the shade. This proved to be the ticket. We needed shade each day and we’d be fine. At five p.m. all the workers cleared out of the shaded bank parking lot across the street in time for our final move. I took Beans out for a walk around the adjacent insurance building. She flushed out a fledgling bird of some sort from a bush and pounced on it. Oh boy did that ever set off the bird community. The parents were squawking and dive bombing her. Then all the other birds around chirped and squawked about the immediate danger. Beans let the bird go but birdville was not the same for another fifteen minutes until she went back inside the RV and out of their sight.
Once the sun was down below the horizon we drove over to look at Bob Hardy RV Park, the place Sinbad and I had stayed. It wasn’t familiar looking and had two other campers there already in the dozen sites. I remember something about showers being there. I parked and checked. Yep. So I grabbed my shower backpack and took a quick cooling shower. Nice. We drove the mile and a half back to Walmart Retreat and slept for free instead paying fifteen dollars at Bob Hardy listening to trains roll through at all hours of the night blasting horns. A nicer night compared to the one before. That was the solution. We had to keep in the shade at all times when parked during the days and those days were only going to be hotter until the end of the week.
Twenty miles north was the small town of Tekamah (pop. 1700) which had a city park with nine sites and electricity. We would check it out. The park was scattered about in several parcels and there was shade to be had. The camp portion looked doable with three campers there but no one around. I resigned myself to the fact we simply had to stay put in shade and not do anything until this heat wave had passed. It would be 117 in Quartzsite, Arizona (our winter home), 123 in Palm Springs (one degree less than Death Valley) yet only in the high eighties throughout the South we had left behind, but oh the humidity. Tekamah was to be 95 degrees then 103 the next day. We would move accordingly. We were in one park parking lot for a couple of shady hours then moved over to where the campsites were around four p.m. Now there were four baseball fields in the park. Evidently baseball is a big deal in Nebraska. We were parked in a large shady spot off to the side, not yet moved in to a designated camp site as it was still in the sun. Just before five in the afternoon cars streamed into the lot. It appeared to be little league practice. Baseball moms were dropping off their little players. Well, this wound up going on for the next three hours cars coming and going for different shifts of ball practice, the little ones early then older kids later. No exaggeration, around two hundred cars must have come and went during that period. Unbelievable. They don’t have anything else to do in Nebraska but play baseball in the hot weather and sun? I will add there was a young women’s team practice, probably high school age girls. Those girls were good. Grounders were hit; they scooped them up and threw to first base. No one missed their grounder. No one threw the ball like a girl either. We wound up staying where we had parked near the group picnic area instead of backing in to an electric hook-up site and thus avoiding the ten dollar camp fee, not that anyone was around to collect.