Day 62: Gotta Go Back In Time
The WF walked through Southern Indiana farmland for most of the morning and afternoon. He finally made his way to the serene, mind-calming Spring Mill State Park where he visited the Virgil I. "Gus" Grissom Memorial, which honors America's second man in space! He then took a 1.5 mile trail through the park and into Pioneer Village where he chatted with blacksmiths, laborers, and the "townsfolk" from the 1860s. He had an extended conversation with a town laborer named Larry who tinkers with antique looms when not volunteering at the park. He was a fine chap with a long white beard … even longer than the Fool's!
Day 63: Hurine or Urine?
The Fool woke up and walked through the backwoods roads on Indiana, slowly running out of energy. After walking through the tiny town of Huron (which the townfolk pronounced as "Urine") the Fool got mauled by a pack of 10-12 loose dogs. The owner yelled at the growling dogs to come heel, but the angry canines didn't seem to pay much attention. The Fool slowly backed away, trying not to show fear, but the dogs followed. Eventually, as he continued on, the dogs slowly started to drop off one by one until it dwindled down to none. The Fool breathed a sigh of relief... but not for long. He soon discovered that his iPod no longer worked, his cell phone wouldn't power on and he no longer could get any NPR stations on his radio. So, the Fool did what any person would do — cry like a baby.
Day 64: An Amish Lunch and a Baymont Discount
The Fool hung around the town of Loogootee waiting for the library to open at 1pm. While there, the Fool figured a way to bend the a/c cord into the cell phone at just the right angle so he could power it on. He then wrote down as many of the numbers as possible before the phone died for good. 8 miles later, the Fool had lunch at the Amish Village north of the town of Montgomery. With a belly full of mashed potatoes and corn, he then walked another 10 miles to Washington, Indiana where he checked into the Baymont Inn. He got a 10% discount on his room when the manager said to him "You're here on business, right?" while slyly winking so not to let his trainee standing behind him realize that he was indiscriminately handing out discounts. The Fool did a stuffy throat-clearing, then responded with a resounding "yes." This little charade surely tricked the 18-year old trainee into thinking that he was there for the hobo convention.
Day 66: Waiting on the Rain
The fool decided to stay another bonus day in Washington, IN since it was expected to rain all day again. He went to the Ponderosa next door for a bland lunch buffet. He also went to a nearby Verizon store to buy a new cell phone, but they were all out of the phones he wanted. So, the Fool went back to his room to watch TV.
Day 67: Phoned Up
The Walking Fool was ready to check out of the hotel at noon. And right before leaving the room, Verizon called him and said that a shipment of phones just arrived. So, the Fool dashed over to the store and got himself a brand new, working cell phone!
Now being connected to the world again, the WF headed off to Vincennes, approximately 18 miles away. He wanted to get there by 7pm for two reasons: 1) to beat the rain that was supposed to come early evening and 2) to get to the town's movie theater in time to catch the 7:10 showing of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." As he got closer and closer to the theater, the Fool kept chanting the simple mantra of "popcorn, popcorn, popcorn..."
Now being connected to the world again, the WF headed off to Vincennes, approximately 18 miles away. He wanted to get there by 7pm for two reasons: 1) to beat the rain that was supposed to come early evening and 2) to get to the town's movie theater in time to catch the 7:10 showing of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." As he got closer and closer to the theater, the Fool kept chanting the simple mantra of "popcorn, popcorn, popcorn..."
Day 68: Into Illinois
Our friend the fool camped out behind a gas station in town, where the gas attendant warned him to be careful when he got to St. Louis — not referring to the fact that the city has one of the highest murder rates in the world, but because the cops are "tough asses," adding that he got busted there a few years back for just having "a couple ounces of weed. That's all!" The Fool walked through town, reaching the state border and entering the Land of Lincoln — Illinois. He walked a good 12 miles to Lawrenceville where he got some chicken lo mein at the town's dusty Chinese restaurant. After hanging out at the town square, sucking up salty noodles and watching local dressed-up teens on their way to the prom, the Walking Fool stood up and exited the fine town of Lawrenceville. But after spending the time there, he felt such a close kinship with the place, he felt comfortable calling it Larryville.
Day 69: Facing a Tough Wind
Mother's Day. Today was a bad day for the Walking Fool.
He woke up after sleeping through a night of rain in Red Hills State Park. Again, his lousy tent-erecting skills netted him another sopping tent floor in the morning. He packed his tent and prepared to face a cold, dark, rainy, windy day. And to make matters worse, the Fool was almost out of food. All he had left was a few beef jerky bits and a packet of crackers.
He headed west on route 50 for the town of Olney — over 13 miles away — but with gusts of wind that reached 50 mph, every mile felt like three miles. The Fool pushed on and managed to do the entire walk from the park to the Taco Bell in Olney without stopping for a break — mainly because when it's raining, there's really nowhere to sit. Once inside, the Fool collapsed in his taco salad. After a stack of cheesy burritos and spicy tacos, the WF gained some energy. He strutted to the city park in hope of spotting one of Olney's famous white squirrels. He didn't have much luck. He thought he saw one by a distant tree, but as he got closer, he realized it was just a plastic bag.
He woke up after sleeping through a night of rain in Red Hills State Park. Again, his lousy tent-erecting skills netted him another sopping tent floor in the morning. He packed his tent and prepared to face a cold, dark, rainy, windy day. And to make matters worse, the Fool was almost out of food. All he had left was a few beef jerky bits and a packet of crackers.
He headed west on route 50 for the town of Olney — over 13 miles away — but with gusts of wind that reached 50 mph, every mile felt like three miles. The Fool pushed on and managed to do the entire walk from the park to the Taco Bell in Olney without stopping for a break — mainly because when it's raining, there's really nowhere to sit. Once inside, the Fool collapsed in his taco salad. After a stack of cheesy burritos and spicy tacos, the WF gained some energy. He strutted to the city park in hope of spotting one of Olney's famous white squirrels. He didn't have much luck. He thought he saw one by a distant tree, but as he got closer, he realized it was just a plastic bag.
Day 70: Don't U Fight it
On Monday, the WF continued on Route 50 to the small town of Nobel and then to Clay City. Once in the small town, the local coot recommended to the Fool that he go to the 111 Club for a pizza lunch. The Club was really just a honky tonk tavern with tons of signs saying "If U fight, U go 2 Jail!" But Vicki, the bartender, did cook up a good frozen pizza.
Feeling better than he had in days, the Fool skipped along a closed frontage road that paralleled Route 50. It was a bit cracked, but it was somewhat paved and most importantly, car-free. Plus, all the closed bridges were still intact, which allowed him nice quiet crossings over the several creeks and rivers.
Feeling better than he had in days, the Fool skipped along a closed frontage road that paralleled Route 50. It was a bit cracked, but it was somewhat paved and most importantly, car-free. Plus, all the closed bridges were still intact, which allowed him nice quiet crossings over the several creeks and rivers.
Day 71: Two Bucks For Free Internet
The Fool worked his way to the cruddy town of Flora, Illinois, to use the library. He was undelighted purple to find out they charged two bucks to use their fabulous computers. The Fool tried to explain how he was walking across the US and that he was on a momentous trek but with tight budget. The library director was unmoved by his plight and showed it by folding her arms and wincing.
Day 72: Zero Dollars
After accidentally sitting in an army of a thousand ants, our walking friend made it to the town of Salem, IL. Once there, he went to the town's library, which charged zero dollars to use the internet. After that, the WF settled down in a nice comfy Super 8 bed. The lady at the front desk gave him a good deal. He wanted to sleep with her.
Day 73: Once the Can Goes Pop...
The Walking Fool was a sitting fool as he stayed in his Salem hotel room watching the rain outside. He also spent an hour brushing out all the Pringles crumbs from his backpack after the can exploded somewhere (according to the Fool's calculations) outside of Clay City.
Day 74: Booked Campground
The Fool left Salem and hit the Red Caboose Diner in the small town of Odin. He got the Red Top Special and the cook gave him potato salad with it for free (normally, it's 50 cents extra). He walked six miles to the next town of Sandoval where he hit yet another library, which was the size of a NYC studio apartment.
As the sun began to set, the Fool hit the Carlyle Lake State Park where he planned to set up camp. But the entire campground was booked for the weekend by some local club or lodge or white supremacist group. The pale, skinny old man at the camp entrance told the Fool he must vacate the site immediately. The Fool responded by waving his hand dismissively and walking through the campground to get to the other side of the park.
He slyly set up his tent in a group of bushes off a trail.
As the sun began to set, the Fool hit the Carlyle Lake State Park where he planned to set up camp. But the entire campground was booked for the weekend by some local club or lodge or white supremacist group. The pale, skinny old man at the camp entrance told the Fool he must vacate the site immediately. The Fool responded by waving his hand dismissively and walking through the campground to get to the other side of the park.
He slyly set up his tent in a group of bushes off a trail.
Day 75: A McDonald's day
As stated before, the Fool wanted to legally camp at the park, but instead had to sleep in some bushes by the north exit. But it turned out surprisingly restful. He got up around 8 and had breakfast at the McDonald's in Carlyle, Illinois. He walked 10 miles to Breese, where he had lunch at another McDonald's there. He walked 10 more miles to the town of Lebanon, which unlike its Middle Eastern counterpart, was not in the middle of a heated civil war.
Day 76: More McDonald's and a Big Bottle
The Fool got up early and immediately went to... another McDonald's for breakfast. A few miles down the road, the Fool was called over by a guy standing in his driveway. The man was "stoked" to hear of our hero's walking trip. He told the Fool about his own walk he did in Arizona. "It was awesome, except when I got bit by a rattlesnake," he said. "But I had an Indian guide with me, so he fixed me right up." The man slipped the Fool a few bucks and sent him on his way.
The WF continued on to the town of O'Fallon and ate lunch at... a McDonald's. He walked another eight miles to Collinsville, home of the Largest Catsup Bottle in the World!! The WF celebrated by going to... the local McDonald's.
On his way out town, he talked to a kid working at the local pharmacy, getting the inside scoop on the catsup bottle. And by the end of the convo, the Fool got himself a FREE Brooks Catsup t-shirt!! He celebrated this newly acquired piece of clothing by going to... a Taco Bell!
The WF continued on to the town of O'Fallon and ate lunch at... a McDonald's. He walked another eight miles to Collinsville, home of the Largest Catsup Bottle in the World!! The WF celebrated by going to... the local McDonald's.On his way out town, he talked to a kid working at the local pharmacy, getting the inside scoop on the catsup bottle. And by the end of the convo, the Fool got himself a FREE Brooks Catsup t-shirt!! He celebrated this newly acquired piece of clothing by going to... a Taco Bell!
Day 77: The Show-Me State
A new STATE! The Fool is in a new State! At 1pm Central Time, the Walking Fool crossed the great Mississippi River and entered St. Louis, Missouri... the murder capital of the world!
While in the city, the Fool saw the Gateway Arch, visited the National Bowling Museum and when in an all-black neighborhood was accosted by a guy in a car who told him, "Hey, you're pretty white." Interpreting that as a vague, weird threat, the Fool hot-footed it to Forest Park. He spent some time exploring the huge city park, and crossed paths with the same elderly couple on four occasions. Finally, as dusk set in, the WF settled down in the dense, tree-covered Kennedy Memorial forest on the south-west end of the park.
While in the city, the Fool saw the Gateway Arch, visited the National Bowling Museum and when in an all-black neighborhood was accosted by a guy in a car who told him, "Hey, you're pretty white." Interpreting that as a vague, weird threat, the Fool hot-footed it to Forest Park. He spent some time exploring the huge city park, and crossed paths with the same elderly couple on four occasions. Finally, as dusk set in, the WF settled down in the dense, tree-covered Kennedy Memorial forest on the south-west end of the park.
Day 78-84: STL to the Katy Trail
The Fool left Forest Park w/out incident. Surprisingly, after he told people he camped there, they told him he was taking his life in his hands... Like setting up a tent in a crack house. It was fine... he doesn't know why people made a big deal out of it. He had plenty of cover.
There was an REI in St. Louis, and it seemed like the best last opportunity to go to a chain gear store. The Fool had his eyes on a pair of shoes he'd first encountered on an earlier, shorter hike. He was apprehensive about getting the right ones. Shoes have proven to be more of a challenge than expected; it's been hard to find a pair that keeps water out during rainstorms, and he had ditched a pair in Morgantown PA because they just weren't working. REI was a little out of the way. After breakfasting at the local Burger King and destroying a bathroom at a Whole Foods, he got to REI and bought the same Merrills he had ditched before, giving them a second chance. Unfortunately they were a half size too large, so after walking a couple of miles away, he turned around and exchanged them for the right size. He continued on, but later found another flaw; a design update that made the arch feel wrong, like walking on a perfectly-placed stone. This was a hard day, and he switched back to his old shoes.
Ahead lay the Katy Trail, a rail trail he'd planned to hit, and he despaired of getting right with these shoes in a comfortable environment (because STL had expensive neighborhoods and hotels; hotels and neighborhoods and shoes so uncomfortable that the whole package led to some on-street weeping) when suddenly he came upon a Red Roof Inn. $39.95!!! He stayed two days, doffed his pack, and walked the streets in casual comfort, becoming friendly with his new Merrills. On one excursion he was tempted into entering a Hooters. However, he quickly backed out when he saw overenthusiastic scantily-clad (but not! nude!) women, plus dudes with baseball caps eating chicken wings, listening to Classic Rock and watching big sporting events on television. That's when he remembered that he hates Hooters.
The weatherfolk were talking rain; normally the Fool would book another night in the face of bad weather, but he'd already stayed two days -- and the new shoes seemed to be keeping his feet dry. So on...
He crossed the Missouri River and hit the Katy Trail toward Defiance. Mark had gotten a lot of good advice from a salesman at the REI, but one thing the man got wrong, if you're thinking of hiking the Katy Trail: there's LOTS of good tree coverage on it. The converted railbed seemed like a heavenly wilderness, except with crushed limestone and benches every five miles or so. The clouds over the Fool's heart lifted, and he started clapping his hands in glee. In fact, he couldn't stop clapping! The country he passed through was rich with plant life -- trailing vines, mosses -- that it almost reminded him of Louisiana. He started hitting trail heads, and each one had a small shelter where he slept. Maps! Guideposts! Trail maps to take along! Running water! Information about towns along the route. Clap! Clap! Clap! Was there music? There was not.
This paradise lay along his route for something like 150 miles, and the fool took about a week and a half to cover the distance. The first town was Defiance; prepped by the trailheads with all the information about services, he knew just where he wanted to go. But in the tavern where he planned to have a single beer, he struck up a conversation with Clarence, who at first seemed a little too curious about his plans. Soon, however, the Fool warmed up to Clarence (although Clarence's wife kept trying to bring politics into the discussion), who bought him a couple of beers and a Snickers.
The fool stumbled out of Defiance pretty late, making for a campsite he'd heard about, but on arrival it seemed like every site was taken. He'd planned to just bivouac in a bush someplace and pay in the morning, but couldn't find good cover. With lightning flickering on the horizon, he found a pavillion and laid down between some picnic tables around 2am. Then, sounds. Garbagey sounds. A raccoon family. They looked rabid to the Fool, who could smell his own Snickers bar in his backpack. So he set up the tent because raccoons can't see you if you're indoors. He drifted off to sleep at around 3.
The next day... UP BRIGHT AND EARLY AT 6... the Fool popped out of his tent ready to avoid park officials. He continued on, admiring the chalky bluffs on the north side of the Missouri River. He reached Augusta early. A bunch of engineering college students on bikes came by doing the whole Katy Trail from west to east.
That crushed limestone is easy on the feet, and, clap clap clap, the Fool continued along the trail for 24 miles that day, stopped in Marthasville and Peers and hit a tavern in Treloar. Trying for some healthy food, he discovered deep-fried cheese-covered cauliflower. That night he camped under a bridge where a creek let into the Missouri, learning from a plaque that Louis and Clark had camped there on their historic journey -- although that was some time before the bridge was built! Ha ha!
The next day. The weather people had predicted a VERY VERY DRY Memorial Day weekend, but it turned out they were completely wrong, which made the drenching rain all the more insulting and mean. The Fool's theory: lazy weathermen pre-recorded their broadcasts for the holiday weekend. Shouting obscenities amidst empty farmland helped the Fool's state of mind but didn't stop the rain, so he sat under a bridge for a spell.
He reached McKittrick in the afternoon. Here he met the real life Ned Flanders, an enthusiastic, God-bless-everything minister from Michigan in town to visit his mom. His comb-shaped brown moustache twitched as he spoke. Warmed by the fellow's pleasant demeanor and well wishes, the Fool didn't even mind being blessed by the Lord. Feeling blessed, he walked to Rhineland where he hit the all-you-can-eat chicken buffet for $8.50. He blessed himself with lots of mashed potatoes in particular and had to roll himself away from the table eventually. Trying to figure out how to get some food "to go," he held a ziploc bag at the ready, but the nice people chatting with their friends made it dicey. But he finally trucked out of there with an extra breast, a wing and a leg. Hi-diddly-ho!
Eventually he reached the town of Bluffton and was stymied by campground rules, so he continued a couple of miles and found a wide meadow along the Big Muddy. The grass was high enough to conceal his position, but seemed an ideal home for ticks and snakes. The weather guys continued to be WRONG as it rained that night.
Next day: humid. The town of Portland had a boat launch, where the Fool chatted with fishermen on their way out. Four middle-aged men wearting all black climbed out of two sedans in the parking lot. As he got closer, the Fool realized they were speaking German, and seemed to be admiring the trail head and marina. Theory: these men were tourists who thought they were in Portland, Oregon.
The hot ham and cheese in Portland hit the spot. Steedman went by, and in Mokane, after seeing people riding down Main Street on horseback, the Fool got the world's worst sandwich. You want mayonnaise in this part of Missouri, you're getting Miracle Whip. He got the news that Tebbetts had no supplies, so he loaded up in Mokane. It rained on the way to Tebbetts, and he hit a trailhead shelter in time for the rain to stop. In Tebbetts, he also found out that there were TWO places to get groceries in Tebbetts. That lady in Mokane was wrong.
In Tebbetts, the Fool met up with a charming mutt who joined him for a little jaunt. The two of them stopped and looked at some insane lightning storms to the south and east, with horizontal bolts overlapping and coming from multiple directions at once. It looked at times like a giant plate of electric spaghetti. The Walking Fool decided to continue on to the west to find camping. The dog eventually realized she didn't want to go on this crazy adventure and went back to town. The Fool camped out in Wainright near another bridge. Those bridges have some good cover and sometimes even shelter.
There was an REI in St. Louis, and it seemed like the best last opportunity to go to a chain gear store. The Fool had his eyes on a pair of shoes he'd first encountered on an earlier, shorter hike. He was apprehensive about getting the right ones. Shoes have proven to be more of a challenge than expected; it's been hard to find a pair that keeps water out during rainstorms, and he had ditched a pair in Morgantown PA because they just weren't working. REI was a little out of the way. After breakfasting at the local Burger King and destroying a bathroom at a Whole Foods, he got to REI and bought the same Merrills he had ditched before, giving them a second chance. Unfortunately they were a half size too large, so after walking a couple of miles away, he turned around and exchanged them for the right size. He continued on, but later found another flaw; a design update that made the arch feel wrong, like walking on a perfectly-placed stone. This was a hard day, and he switched back to his old shoes.
Ahead lay the Katy Trail, a rail trail he'd planned to hit, and he despaired of getting right with these shoes in a comfortable environment (because STL had expensive neighborhoods and hotels; hotels and neighborhoods and shoes so uncomfortable that the whole package led to some on-street weeping) when suddenly he came upon a Red Roof Inn. $39.95!!! He stayed two days, doffed his pack, and walked the streets in casual comfort, becoming friendly with his new Merrills. On one excursion he was tempted into entering a Hooters. However, he quickly backed out when he saw overenthusiastic scantily-clad (but not! nude!) women, plus dudes with baseball caps eating chicken wings, listening to Classic Rock and watching big sporting events on television. That's when he remembered that he hates Hooters.
The weatherfolk were talking rain; normally the Fool would book another night in the face of bad weather, but he'd already stayed two days -- and the new shoes seemed to be keeping his feet dry. So on...
He crossed the Missouri River and hit the Katy Trail toward Defiance. Mark had gotten a lot of good advice from a salesman at the REI, but one thing the man got wrong, if you're thinking of hiking the Katy Trail: there's LOTS of good tree coverage on it. The converted railbed seemed like a heavenly wilderness, except with crushed limestone and benches every five miles or so. The clouds over the Fool's heart lifted, and he started clapping his hands in glee. In fact, he couldn't stop clapping! The country he passed through was rich with plant life -- trailing vines, mosses -- that it almost reminded him of Louisiana. He started hitting trail heads, and each one had a small shelter where he slept. Maps! Guideposts! Trail maps to take along! Running water! Information about towns along the route. Clap! Clap! Clap! Was there music? There was not.
This paradise lay along his route for something like 150 miles, and the fool took about a week and a half to cover the distance. The first town was Defiance; prepped by the trailheads with all the information about services, he knew just where he wanted to go. But in the tavern where he planned to have a single beer, he struck up a conversation with Clarence, who at first seemed a little too curious about his plans. Soon, however, the Fool warmed up to Clarence (although Clarence's wife kept trying to bring politics into the discussion), who bought him a couple of beers and a Snickers.
The fool stumbled out of Defiance pretty late, making for a campsite he'd heard about, but on arrival it seemed like every site was taken. He'd planned to just bivouac in a bush someplace and pay in the morning, but couldn't find good cover. With lightning flickering on the horizon, he found a pavillion and laid down between some picnic tables around 2am. Then, sounds. Garbagey sounds. A raccoon family. They looked rabid to the Fool, who could smell his own Snickers bar in his backpack. So he set up the tent because raccoons can't see you if you're indoors. He drifted off to sleep at around 3.
The next day... UP BRIGHT AND EARLY AT 6... the Fool popped out of his tent ready to avoid park officials. He continued on, admiring the chalky bluffs on the north side of the Missouri River. He reached Augusta early. A bunch of engineering college students on bikes came by doing the whole Katy Trail from west to east.
That crushed limestone is easy on the feet, and, clap clap clap, the Fool continued along the trail for 24 miles that day, stopped in Marthasville and Peers and hit a tavern in Treloar. Trying for some healthy food, he discovered deep-fried cheese-covered cauliflower. That night he camped under a bridge where a creek let into the Missouri, learning from a plaque that Louis and Clark had camped there on their historic journey -- although that was some time before the bridge was built! Ha ha!
The next day. The weather people had predicted a VERY VERY DRY Memorial Day weekend, but it turned out they were completely wrong, which made the drenching rain all the more insulting and mean. The Fool's theory: lazy weathermen pre-recorded their broadcasts for the holiday weekend. Shouting obscenities amidst empty farmland helped the Fool's state of mind but didn't stop the rain, so he sat under a bridge for a spell.
He reached McKittrick in the afternoon. Here he met the real life Ned Flanders, an enthusiastic, God-bless-everything minister from Michigan in town to visit his mom. His comb-shaped brown moustache twitched as he spoke. Warmed by the fellow's pleasant demeanor and well wishes, the Fool didn't even mind being blessed by the Lord. Feeling blessed, he walked to Rhineland where he hit the all-you-can-eat chicken buffet for $8.50. He blessed himself with lots of mashed potatoes in particular and had to roll himself away from the table eventually. Trying to figure out how to get some food "to go," he held a ziploc bag at the ready, but the nice people chatting with their friends made it dicey. But he finally trucked out of there with an extra breast, a wing and a leg. Hi-diddly-ho!
Eventually he reached the town of Bluffton and was stymied by campground rules, so he continued a couple of miles and found a wide meadow along the Big Muddy. The grass was high enough to conceal his position, but seemed an ideal home for ticks and snakes. The weather guys continued to be WRONG as it rained that night.
Next day: humid. The town of Portland had a boat launch, where the Fool chatted with fishermen on their way out. Four middle-aged men wearting all black climbed out of two sedans in the parking lot. As he got closer, the Fool realized they were speaking German, and seemed to be admiring the trail head and marina. Theory: these men were tourists who thought they were in Portland, Oregon.
The hot ham and cheese in Portland hit the spot. Steedman went by, and in Mokane, after seeing people riding down Main Street on horseback, the Fool got the world's worst sandwich. You want mayonnaise in this part of Missouri, you're getting Miracle Whip. He got the news that Tebbetts had no supplies, so he loaded up in Mokane. It rained on the way to Tebbetts, and he hit a trailhead shelter in time for the rain to stop. In Tebbetts, he also found out that there were TWO places to get groceries in Tebbetts. That lady in Mokane was wrong.
In Tebbetts, the Fool met up with a charming mutt who joined him for a little jaunt. The two of them stopped and looked at some insane lightning storms to the south and east, with horizontal bolts overlapping and coming from multiple directions at once. It looked at times like a giant plate of electric spaghetti. The Walking Fool decided to continue on to the west to find camping. The dog eventually realized she didn't want to go on this crazy adventure and went back to town. The Fool camped out in Wainright near another bridge. Those bridges have some good cover and sometimes even shelter.
Day 85: Jeff City
The Walking Fool got up after another wet, rainy night in the tent. The fool is still a fool when trying to erect his tent in the proper way to repel rain penetration. He walked another 6-7 miles to the N Jefferson trailhead where he called local hotels in Jefferson City to see which one suited him best (i.e., whichever was the cheapest). Unfortunately, all of the hotels were in the southernmost section of the city which added 4-5 out-of-the-way miles to the Fool's travels. He took a spur trail to the highway that went over the Missouri River and into the capital city... finally settling for a Motel 6 which offered Kmart quality comforters, cable TV with an annoying high pitch hum and a lovely 39-bucks-a-night fee.
Day 86: Perky in Perkins
The WF hung out at his Motel 6(66) room for a while, then decided to tread up the hill to a Perkins about a half mile away for lunch. While there, he encountered the most annoying waitress so far on his trip. A fiery redhead with unabashed, pre-rehearsed cheeriness. Each enthusiastic, 2-pack-a-day throaty "sweetie" and "how ya doin' there?" made the fool cringe. And things didn't go well when he accidentally tried to order from the "55 And Older" menu. "AWWW! You can't order from there, sweetheart. Not yet! HA HA HA HA!" Then she touched his hand and guided him to the regular menu. She had that fake cheery enthusiasm which most strippers have... but she wasn't removing any clothes, she was just handing him a mediocre club sandwich.
Day 87: The Devil and Two Angels
Our traversing trooper got up and headed north again through Jefferson City, Missouri, which can be referred to as "Jeff City" according to a local businessman the fool chatted with. However, calling it just "Jefferson" would simply not be tolerated.
After walking five miles, the WF was back on the trail and heading west again. About four miles later, the fool met three scary drunks hanging out and drinking cans of Budweiser. One of the them, the fool suspected, was the devil himself as he shook the fool's hand and inexplicably started crushing it as hard as he could while glowering into his eyes with brooding hatred. The fool somehow managed to extricate himself from this terrifying encounter without insulting the devil, nor showing too much fear. He then bolted down the trail … where he eventually met two people of the complete opposite demeanor.
A kind, generous couple on bikes stopped to offer the walking fool their home for him to sleep in. They told him how to find their house which was another 8-9 miles down the trail. Around 9pm, he arrived and was greeted by the family with open arms and a nice pizza dinner. The fool commented on how he couldn't believe there are people who would take in a complete stranger and let him into their home. As the father showed the fool to the guest bedroom, he said matter-of-factly, "I think we have good judgement of character, and we knew you were all right."
After walking five miles, the WF was back on the trail and heading west again. About four miles later, the fool met three scary drunks hanging out and drinking cans of Budweiser. One of the them, the fool suspected, was the devil himself as he shook the fool's hand and inexplicably started crushing it as hard as he could while glowering into his eyes with brooding hatred. The fool somehow managed to extricate himself from this terrifying encounter without insulting the devil, nor showing too much fear. He then bolted down the trail … where he eventually met two people of the complete opposite demeanor.
A kind, generous couple on bikes stopped to offer the walking fool their home for him to sleep in. They told him how to find their house which was another 8-9 miles down the trail. Around 9pm, he arrived and was greeted by the family with open arms and a nice pizza dinner. The fool commented on how he couldn't believe there are people who would take in a complete stranger and let him into their home. As the father showed the fool to the guest bedroom, he said matter-of-factly, "I think we have good judgement of character, and we knew you were all right."
Day 88
The fool stacked the bodies neatly in the basement and wiped the knife clean of any fingerprints. (Haw, haw, just kidding.)
The fool got up and had a light breakfast with the family and couldn't stop thanking them enough for their kindness. He got back on the trail and walked northwest in the humid heat. A turtle fell from one of the high bluffs and onto the trail. The bleeding reptile made the fool sad … but, he moved on. He took a spur trail from McBaine into Columbia making it his last day on the Katy Trail. (No more clapping.) Once in the hip-hopping college town of Columbia, the fool immediately checked into a Red Roof Inn to tend to his tender and bleeding right pinky toe.
The fool got up and had a light breakfast with the family and couldn't stop thanking them enough for their kindness. He got back on the trail and walked northwest in the humid heat. A turtle fell from one of the high bluffs and onto the trail. The bleeding reptile made the fool sad … but, he moved on. He took a spur trail from McBaine into Columbia making it his last day on the Katy Trail. (No more clapping.) Once in the hip-hopping college town of Columbia, the fool immediately checked into a Red Roof Inn to tend to his tender and bleeding right pinky toe.
Day 89: Picry
The Fool decided to take another day off to let his toe heal … also he heard heavy rain was coming soon. He watched the international spelling bee on ESPN as it poured outside and the WF learned a new word for poison ivy — picry. Try that one out on your snooty science friends. For dinner, he had very, very bad BBQ ribs that tasted like lighter fluid.
Day 90: A Pondering Fool
It was a hot, hot day for the Fool. He expelled much fluid through his sweat glands during the course of the day. He went to a McDonald's a few miles north of Columbia where some local teens openly mocked him. He didn't care. He then got on Route 63 north — a 4-lane divided highway with a nice wide shoulder to walk on. The fool walked 10 more miles north and found his way to an off the beaten path diner where he got a BLT. The fool suspected that the waitress was hard of hearing, because when he told her he was walking across the country, her response was a bland, "Uh-huh. Do you want a refill on your Mountain Dew?"
He left the Diner and continued north. A few miles later, he sat under an overpass to ponder for a bit. He was considering whether this "heading north into Iowa" business was such a hot idea. Maybe he should had just continued west into Kansas. But then he realized -- he's already where he is. He had to commit. So he pumped his fist in the air, stood up and got back on Route 63 -- NORTH!
The walking fool went a few more miles on the highway until settling down in a nice patch of tall weeds where the ticks welcomed him with many open legs and biting mouths.
He left the Diner and continued north. A few miles later, he sat under an overpass to ponder for a bit. He was considering whether this "heading north into Iowa" business was such a hot idea. Maybe he should had just continued west into Kansas. But then he realized -- he's already where he is. He had to commit. So he pumped his fist in the air, stood up and got back on Route 63 -- NORTH!
The walking fool went a few more miles on the highway until settling down in a nice patch of tall weeds where the ticks welcomed him with many open legs and biting mouths.
Day 91: Ticking Along
The Fool was getting a bit nervous with all these ticks. Anytime he even brushed alongside some tall weeds, he'd discover 3 or 4 ticks attached to his socks … but one of his friends calmed him with the info that the little buggers have to be attached to his skin for at least 36 hours to transmit Lyme disease. So the Fool is now bathing in ticks. "Bring 'em on!" he can now be heard shouting.
Day 92: Macon
The Fool walked 9 miles on Route 63 to Macon, Missouri, where he wanted to go to the post office to pick up a pair of packages. He got a little lost and asked for directions from a pair of local men hanging in the garage. They then both started talking at the same time, each giving directions to the post office but completely disregarding the fact that the other one was talking. It was like an Abbot and Costello routine. They just talked on top of each other until each of them ended with "post office."
Before leaving Macon, the Fool went to the grocery store and asked if they sold any regional pork rashers, but found to his disappointment that apparently there's no such thing as “Macon bacon.” He claims they kicked him in the groin at that point, but they probably didn’t.
He unexpectedly stayed in Macon overnight at the Super 8 because of rain.
Before leaving Macon, the Fool went to the grocery store and asked if they sold any regional pork rashers, but found to his disappointment that apparently there's no such thing as “Macon bacon.” He claims they kicked him in the groin at that point, but they probably didn’t.
He unexpectedly stayed in Macon overnight at the Super 8 because of rain.
Day 93: The La Plata Express
Next day he walked about 10 miles north to Atlanta (MO) in search of a convenience store. The woman there gave him a free, couple-day-old pizza from the hot case that she would otherwise have given to the local kids. He felt a little scuzzy about that, but ate the pizza.
The Fool watched a bunch of old fellers scratching off lottery tickets that cost more than their total lifetime winnings, but they seemed to be having a good time.
He left Atlanta and headed up the road to La Plata. There he found a train-themed motel called The Depot Inn, possibly a popular local event destination. He got the celebrity treatment (read: $40 discount) from the friendly clerk, and spent a pleasant night in Car C.
The Fool watched a bunch of old fellers scratching off lottery tickets that cost more than their total lifetime winnings, but they seemed to be having a good time.
He left Atlanta and headed up the road to La Plata. There he found a train-themed motel called The Depot Inn, possibly a popular local event destination. He got the celebrity treatment (read: $40 discount) from the friendly clerk, and spent a pleasant night in Car C.
Day 94: Kirksville, MO
North again, the Fool stopped by the airport to eat a sandwich he packed, sitting against a big water basin. He reached the Knights Inn in Kirksville without incident. He felt like one of the champions of the Round Table because his room had a front and back door. Swallowing his anger at Dominos for bad pizza from two states previous, the Fool called to order their Brooklyn style pie and asked if they’d be able to break a hundred dollar bill. He was assured they would. The delivery woman, however, already nonplussed by the Fool’s appearance in his underwear, balked at the unfamiliar currency. Change was provided at the front desk (the Fool put on pants for the trip). Further confounding the delivery woman, he tendered a tip... apparently not the kind of thing that usually happens when your pizza customer answers the door in skivvies and pays with big French money.
Day 95
The Fool hung out in the hotel for another night, still only $39.99. Went across the street to the Ponderosa lunch buffet: all you can eat! He left the restaurant with a plastic bag full of fried chicken and Swedish meatballs for that evening's dinner.
Day 96: A Sack of Trouble
The Fool got up, headed north to downtown Kirksville, Mo., where he had a BK meal and got supplies at the Wal-Mart. Sadly, he finally had to get off the nice four-lane route 63, and onto a narrow county highway going west.
The Fool went into a convenience store at Novinger to get food and drink. Inside, he asked the cashier if he could film her as she asked him if he wanted a "sack" for his purchases. (The Fool finds it amusing that they call plastic bags "sacks" out here, and he wanted to make a video montage of folks saying that word.) The cashier refused to be filmed, and after a little prodding to no avail, the Fool sarcastically thanked her and went on his way.
About a mile up the road, the Fool had an encounter with the police. The sheriff was called in on a report that a backpacking guy wanted to film a cashier offering to sell him a bag of weed. Both the sheriff and the Fool were baffled by this report. After an ID check and a few rueful headshakes, the Fool was free to go.
He's still not sure if the lady cashier truly thought h wanted to film her asking him if he wanted to by a bag of weed, or whether she was just messing with him.
The Fool went into a convenience store at Novinger to get food and drink. Inside, he asked the cashier if he could film her as she asked him if he wanted a "sack" for his purchases. (The Fool finds it amusing that they call plastic bags "sacks" out here, and he wanted to make a video montage of folks saying that word.) The cashier refused to be filmed, and after a little prodding to no avail, the Fool sarcastically thanked her and went on his way.
About a mile up the road, the Fool had an encounter with the police. The sheriff was called in on a report that a backpacking guy wanted to film a cashier offering to sell him a bag of weed. Both the sheriff and the Fool were baffled by this report. After an ID check and a few rueful headshakes, the Fool was free to go.
He's still not sure if the lady cashier truly thought h wanted to film her asking him if he wanted to by a bag of weed, or whether she was just messing with him.
Day 97: Unionville is Less Than 20?
The Fool entered Green City and went to the local diner for breakfast, where he chatted with grizzly old farmers and ranchers. Small Bonus: One of them anonymously paid for his meal.
Next town: Unionville, to the north. All the locals had a different opinion of how far Unionville actually was. Some said it was 22, others as many as 28 miles away. When the Fool suggested that it might be under 20, he was met with uproarious laughter and finger-pointing. But he was determined to prove them wrong... mainly because he didn't want to walk that far.
He took back roads, trudged up and down steep hills, got chased by bees...
...but he made it to Unionville in what was certainly less than 20 miles. The Walkingfool then pointed over the horizon and laughed toward Green City, uttering, "Take that, locals!"
Next town: Unionville, to the north. All the locals had a different opinion of how far Unionville actually was. Some said it was 22, others as many as 28 miles away. When the Fool suggested that it might be under 20, he was met with uproarious laughter and finger-pointing. But he was determined to prove them wrong... mainly because he didn't want to walk that far.
He took back roads, trudged up and down steep hills, got chased by bees...
...but he made it to Unionville in what was certainly less than 20 miles. The Walkingfool then pointed over the horizon and laughed toward Green City, uttering, "Take that, locals!"
Day 98: Into Iowa
The Fool got up and headed north. He crossed into a new state, known as "Iowa." He danced his way to the small town of Seymour, about 10 miles north of the border. There he was met by many closed stores and restaurants, because it was Sunday. So he bought some food at the open Casey's convenience store and ate his dinner under the town park's pavilion. He sat under the shabby shelter as a tornado watch passed through. No harm came to the Fool or the town.
Day 99: No Names, Please
Day two in Iowa began in the town of Promise City. The Fool stepped into the No Name Café where he received a complimentary breakfast. It was probably his little jig he did in the middle of the floor that inspired them to comp his meal.
He then trudged west through drizzly weather a little over ten miles to Corydon.
In town, the Fool had a hearty pasta dinner at Breadeaux Pizza. He considered going to the local movie theater to see a flick, but the place was only open Saturdays and Sundays. That's how they roll out here in the Hawkeye State. So he walked another six miles north and camped under a bridge. More rain was not short behind.
He then trudged west through drizzly weather a little over ten miles to Corydon.
In town, the Fool had a hearty pasta dinner at Breadeaux Pizza. He considered going to the local movie theater to see a flick, but the place was only open Saturdays and Sundays. That's how they roll out here in the Hawkeye State. So he walked another six miles north and camped under a bridge. More rain was not short behind.
Day 100: Downloading in Chariton
Our walking friend got up and skedaddled his way north to Chariton, Iowa (pronounced share-eh-tun). He went into town and sat on a bench in a Back-to the-Future-Hill-Valley town square sipping from his $1.09 bottle (cheap) of Vitamin Water. He went to the library and spent a good 4 hours downloading songs and sound clips for his mp3 player... only to discover that the library computers wouldn't recognize his player as a drive. So he then spent another 2 hours emailing himself all the mp3's he downloaded.
After a day in the library, the WF moseyed back south to go to the Super 8 for rest and relaxation.
After a day in the library, the WF moseyed back south to go to the Super 8 for rest and relaxation.
Day 101
Day of rest! And day of rest in Chariton means pop tarts, cable TV and lots of bad Chinese take-out. Thank you, Iowa.
Day 102: Should he Stay or Should He Go?
The Walking Fool was ready to dash out of Chariton, but stopped off at the library one more time to get the location of the nearby Pizza Hut. After a rich, nourishing pizza meal at the cozy restaurant chain, the Fool noticed the approach of deep, dark rain clouds hovering above. He then spent the next 20 minutes doing a cha-cha under an awning, not sure whether to march into the wet horizon, or curl under some shelter chanting "rain, rain go away."
He left in between showers and made it 7 miles along the way before the next set of dark rainclouds came through. He timed it almost perfectly and was able to duck under a bridge just as the water came pouring down.
He left in between showers and made it 7 miles along the way before the next set of dark rainclouds came through. He timed it almost perfectly and was able to duck under a bridge just as the water came pouring down.
Day 103: Fear of Flooding
Yesterday, after hiding under that bridge for over an hour, the Fool decided to face the music and walk through the rain. He headed north on S23 to the tiny town of Lacona — a delectable 16 miles away — where he ate at "Rudy's Rendezvous" and camped in some weeds by a creek.
Today, he went to the equally small town of Milo which actually had a library. He did some research on the computer and found out that all this rain has caused lots of flash flooding — including in Des Moines, the next big city on the Fool's trip. Now he knows why when he kept showing his potential routes into Des Moines to the decrepit Pizza Hut waitress yesterday, she kept pointing to the map and stridently uttering "underwater!"
As the WF reached Indianola, only a half a day's walk from Des Moines, he started to meet up with road closings and underwater pathways. He wondered whether a visit to the state's capital was possible.
Today, he went to the equally small town of Milo which actually had a library. He did some research on the computer and found out that all this rain has caused lots of flash flooding — including in Des Moines, the next big city on the Fool's trip. Now he knows why when he kept showing his potential routes into Des Moines to the decrepit Pizza Hut waitress yesterday, she kept pointing to the map and stridently uttering "underwater!"
As the WF reached Indianola, only a half a day's walk from Des Moines, he started to meet up with road closings and underwater pathways. He wondered whether a visit to the state's capital was possible.
Day 104: Circumnavigating the City
The Fool met a real nice guy named Ed yesterday on the Somerset Trail who offered him a meal and a little advice — get off the trail. He said the north end would definitely be underwater. He said he could probably walk it up to the Somerset State Park and exit through the park road. Unfortunately, the road through the park was also underwater, so the Fool had to backtrack a few miles and get on highway 69.
Our traveling tramp made it to the outskirts of Des Moines, but due to the failing of several levies, he soon faced many more roads underwater... more than he wanted to deal with. He finally decided that he had to go around the city and come in through West Des Moines. While traveling on the south border, the Fool caught the sight of another walker with a big pack. But before he could catch up to him, he was gone.
The Fool considered camping in a luxurious hotel room, but opted for sleeping in some bushes between a McDonald's and a bank.
Our traveling tramp made it to the outskirts of Des Moines, but due to the failing of several levies, he soon faced many more roads underwater... more than he wanted to deal with. He finally decided that he had to go around the city and come in through West Des Moines. While traveling on the south border, the Fool caught the sight of another walker with a big pack. But before he could catch up to him, he was gone.
The Fool considered camping in a luxurious hotel room, but opted for sleeping in some bushes between a McDonald's and a bank.
Day 105: Looking Like a Bum
The Fool got up and went to the McD's for a cheap and rubbery breakfast. A man sitting alone in the corner kept blatantly giggling at the Fool... making our walking friend quite uncomfortable. The man later approached the WF and explained himself. "I was laughing because at first I thought you were homeless," he said, referring to the WF's long and scraggly beard, "then when you took out your cell phone, I realized you were just being eccentric."
The Fool quickly put on an exaggerated confused face. "As opposed to being concentric?" he replied, using his wittiest intonation. The man kept a serious look and shook his head.
The stocky, short haired, black-mockneck-sweater-wearing man continued on about how he, being a good Christian, tries to offer help to those in need. And apparently, he openly laughs at those who aren't truly in need but who simply look like someone in need.
As the man continued to talk (and not go away) he became more and more patronizing and offensive. He basically felt that the Fool's attempt to walk across the country was "boring," "been done before" and "has no hook." The guy thought that perhaps if the Fool did a handstand across the USA, that might make him more interested. And the fact that the Fool actually went into hotels on occasion and didn't live off the land really "diluted" the whole walk thing. Realizing this man was clearly "diluted" himself and wasn't about to go away, the Fool decided to end things by shouting at him to go fuck off -- but phrased it, "OK, I gotta get going now."
The Fool went along the Raccoon Valley River Trail for a few miles and had a late lunch at another McDonald's, still feeling low from all the negative things that that kind, Christian man had to say about his walk. Even though he knew the man was a self-centered lunatic, getting bashed like that still lowered his spirits (ironically, the man kept asserting that he was spending time talking to the Fool to raise his spirits and actually inspire him... no kidding). Things got to the most abject lowest when a little girl sheepishly walked up to the fool and offered him her last cheeseburger.
He stomped out of the McDonald's in search of a razor.
The Fool quickly put on an exaggerated confused face. "As opposed to being concentric?" he replied, using his wittiest intonation. The man kept a serious look and shook his head.
The stocky, short haired, black-mockneck-sweater-wearing man continued on about how he, being a good Christian, tries to offer help to those in need. And apparently, he openly laughs at those who aren't truly in need but who simply look like someone in need.
As the man continued to talk (and not go away) he became more and more patronizing and offensive. He basically felt that the Fool's attempt to walk across the country was "boring," "been done before" and "has no hook." The guy thought that perhaps if the Fool did a handstand across the USA, that might make him more interested. And the fact that the Fool actually went into hotels on occasion and didn't live off the land really "diluted" the whole walk thing. Realizing this man was clearly "diluted" himself and wasn't about to go away, the Fool decided to end things by shouting at him to go fuck off -- but phrased it, "OK, I gotta get going now."
The Fool went along the Raccoon Valley River Trail for a few miles and had a late lunch at another McDonald's, still feeling low from all the negative things that that kind, Christian man had to say about his walk. Even though he knew the man was a self-centered lunatic, getting bashed like that still lowered his spirits (ironically, the man kept asserting that he was spending time talking to the Fool to raise his spirits and actually inspire him... no kidding). Things got to the most abject lowest when a little girl sheepishly walked up to the fool and offered him her last cheeseburger.
He stomped out of the McDonald's in search of a razor.
Day 106: Spirits Going Back Up
The Fool continued on the trail, heading northwest. 
He stopped at Redfield for lunch and met some bikers who were very impressed with the Fool's journey.
He continued on the trail and reached Panora just in time for dinner at the local Breadeaux Pizza. Inside, the two bored teenage girls working behind the counter perked up when they caught sight of the Walking Fool.They too were impressed with his journey and fell in love with the fool's pink puppet, Toko (even though they first thought it was a bunny, not a bird). By nightfall, the Fool's spirits were in the up direction.
He stopped at Redfield for lunch and met some bikers who were very impressed with the Fool's journey. He continued on the trail and reached Panora just in time for dinner at the local Breadeaux Pizza. Inside, the two bored teenage girls working behind the counter perked up when they caught sight of the Walking Fool.They too were impressed with his journey and fell in love with the fool's pink puppet, Toko (even though they first thought it was a bunny, not a bird). By nightfall, the Fool's spirits were in the up direction.
Day 107: End of the Trail
The Fool was getting tired and in need of some downtime as he slowly walked his way north on the trail. The first 10 miles were tough — no towns with services and not much shade. The last 7-8 miles into the town of Jefferson were more shaded, but infested with nasty bugs, so the Fool moved more quickly.
He went through Jefferson and hit the DQ for a late lunch. After he finished his hamburger meal, he started to put on his pack and realized all the folks in the dining area were curiously staring at him. So he jovially announced, "YES! I AM PUTTING ON MY BACKPACK!" and tried to get a round of applause started by clapping his hands. All he got was blank stares and one half-smile — and that was from the smiling cartoon graphic on the trash can.
He finally retired at the Super 8, just north of town. Although, he almost didn't get a room.
He arrived mid-afternoon to a nearly empty parking lot and strolled into the Super 8 lobby, confident that he'd easily be able to book a room for the next two days. The young lady behind the counter gave the Fool a panicked look and she explained that there was only one room left in the entire place. Pointing out the sound of crickets, the WF asked how that could be. She told him that a construction crew working on a local job had taken over 90% of the hotel for the next week, so rooms booked up fast. She was able to get him in a 3-bed suite for a single-room rate (score!), but he'd then have to move to regular room tomorrow (bummer!) since the suite was booked for that day.
On top of this, Mark did manage to get a small discount... and the comfort of knowing that 250 lb. intoxicated men with class C building licenses were always just a holler away.
He went through Jefferson and hit the DQ for a late lunch. After he finished his hamburger meal, he started to put on his pack and realized all the folks in the dining area were curiously staring at him. So he jovially announced, "YES! I AM PUTTING ON MY BACKPACK!" and tried to get a round of applause started by clapping his hands. All he got was blank stares and one half-smile — and that was from the smiling cartoon graphic on the trash can.
He finally retired at the Super 8, just north of town. Although, he almost didn't get a room.
He arrived mid-afternoon to a nearly empty parking lot and strolled into the Super 8 lobby, confident that he'd easily be able to book a room for the next two days. The young lady behind the counter gave the Fool a panicked look and she explained that there was only one room left in the entire place. Pointing out the sound of crickets, the WF asked how that could be. She told him that a construction crew working on a local job had taken over 90% of the hotel for the next week, so rooms booked up fast. She was able to get him in a 3-bed suite for a single-room rate (score!), but he'd then have to move to regular room tomorrow (bummer!) since the suite was booked for that day.
On top of this, Mark did manage to get a small discount... and the comfort of knowing that 250 lb. intoxicated men with class C building licenses were always just a holler away.
Day 108: New Fans
The Fool spent most of the day in the lobby of the Super 8 in Jefferson, where he had internet access on a computer. It was here that the Fool got to know the manager Joni and her daughter Billie (who checked him in yesterday) a little better. And after telling them exciting tales of walk, they quickly became the Fool's newest fans. Billie even let him use the company washing machine and dryer to clean his clothes and sleeping bag. And Joni made him a gigantic hot fudge sundae for dessert. The Fool liked his new friends.
Day 109:They keep Pulling Him Back In...
The Fool was prepared to leave Jefferson but saw a few isolated rain clouds. Before he knew it, Joni the manager offered him the jacuzzi suite to stay in for free. The Fool quickly accepted. He threw the biggest jacuzzi party that side of Iowa (in his mind). Actually he just watched reruns of Family Feud (the Richard Karn years).
Day 110: Bidding Jefferson Adieu
The Fool finally left Jefferson, but not before Joni gave him two gift certificates to two different restaurants. Unfortunately, the first restaurant was closed by the time he got there. So he moved on to the town of Glidden and spent his hard-earned money on a hot dog and a milkshake. He continued on through the night, reaching the outskirts of the midsized town of Carroll. He camped on a pile of discarded cornstalks.
Day 111: Free Chicken
Our walking buddy entered the town of Carroll with a firm grasp on his other gift certificate. He approached the restaurant but discovered that it opened late, and he was too early. So the Fool got the next best thing, McDonald's. The WF walked another nine miles or so to the little town of Arcadia. He crossed railroad tracks to get a couple of bottles of soda from a machine, and had to race back to beat the distant, oncoming 2-mile-long train.
The next stop for the Fool was the town of Westside. He went into a gas station/convenience store and got an order of Cruisin' Fried Chicken. The 19-year-old working there was very impressed with our friend's travels. He offered the Fool all the leftover chicken at closing time. He was surprised that when the kid said all, he meant all. The young man proudly handed him a huge box bulging with about 10 pounds of fried chicken and potato wedges. The Fool thanked him and lugged his chicken booty through the rain.
The next stop for the Fool was the town of Westside. He went into a gas station/convenience store and got an order of Cruisin' Fried Chicken. The 19-year-old working there was very impressed with our friend's travels. He offered the Fool all the leftover chicken at closing time. He was surprised that when the kid said all, he meant all. The young man proudly handed him a huge box bulging with about 10 pounds of fried chicken and potato wedges. The Fool thanked him and lugged his chicken booty through the rain.
Day 112: Thistle Lift Your Spirits
The WF got up and walked 10 miles with 10 pounds of extra chicken on his back to the town of Denison, birthplace of Donna Reed. After a nourishing McD lunch, the Fool headed up a medium-sized hill and got on the small, rugged highway 141. While resting just a few hundred yards south of a wind turbine farm, he took a picture of a common flower he'd been seeing and sent it to a friend to see if it could be identified. A few minutes later, his friend called him back and said, "Some kind of thistle, we think."
With this new botanical knowledge firmly in his head, the WF went sound to sleep that evening.
With this new botanical knowledge firmly in his head, the WF went sound to sleep that evening.
Day 113: Release the Hounds!
Mark, the Walking Fool, got up after a solid night's rest under a bridge and hiked a couple miles to Charter Oak, Iowa. He went to a convenience store and had a donut and milk for breakfast while browsing the set of Iowa Lotto machines next to his table. They actually had 25-cent lotto tickets — grand prize: 40 dollars!!
Eleven miles later, the Fool hit the small town of Ute (population: 307), where he went to the library. He had a little trouble finding it at first, as it was located inside city hall. In fact, the lady at the city hall desk had to open the library up for him, which turned out to be a windowless, former storage room.
After finishing off the last of the Cruisin' chicken he got at Westside, our hiking vagabond set foot on 210th street — a hilly, rocky, unpleasant backroad. The fool cursed himself for taking this "short cut" until finally reaching the paved highway E34. He took the road to Castana, got some sodas, and headed south on 175 around 10 pm.
While walking in the dark, a car zoomed by the Walking Fool then turned around and started to head back towards him. Not sure if this was some crazed lunatic, the Fool decided to hide in some weeds until the U-turned car went by again. Turns out, this was a bad move. The WF concluded that the driver was most likely an off-duty cop, because once the driver couldn't find our backpacking friend, he stopped the car, pulled out a heavy duty spotlight and started searching the field next to the road, slowly making his way back towards the hiding Fool. Not knowing what to do, Mark did the logical thing: he ran away. About a half mile later, he ducked onto a small dirt road, just as an official cop car zoomed by, lights flashing. Panicking, Mark hustled down the dirt road and hid under an old wooden bridge, hoping the hounds wouldn't find him.
He knew he was not going to get any sleep that night.
Eleven miles later, the Fool hit the small town of Ute (population: 307), where he went to the library. He had a little trouble finding it at first, as it was located inside city hall. In fact, the lady at the city hall desk had to open the library up for him, which turned out to be a windowless, former storage room.
After finishing off the last of the Cruisin' chicken he got at Westside, our hiking vagabond set foot on 210th street — a hilly, rocky, unpleasant backroad. The fool cursed himself for taking this "short cut" until finally reaching the paved highway E34. He took the road to Castana, got some sodas, and headed south on 175 around 10 pm.
While walking in the dark, a car zoomed by the Walking Fool then turned around and started to head back towards him. Not sure if this was some crazed lunatic, the Fool decided to hide in some weeds until the U-turned car went by again. Turns out, this was a bad move. The WF concluded that the driver was most likely an off-duty cop, because once the driver couldn't find our backpacking friend, he stopped the car, pulled out a heavy duty spotlight and started searching the field next to the road, slowly making his way back towards the hiding Fool. Not knowing what to do, Mark did the logical thing: he ran away. About a half mile later, he ducked onto a small dirt road, just as an official cop car zoomed by, lights flashing. Panicking, Mark hustled down the dirt road and hid under an old wooden bridge, hoping the hounds wouldn't find him.
He knew he was not going to get any sleep that night.
Day 114: The Clouds of Turin
After a restless night of evading the police, the Walking Fool climbed out from under the bridge to a cloudy, windy morning. Unapprehended, but still weary of police on the lookout for a suspicious backpacker, he stealthily walked to the nearby town of Turin. Since the town was a mere speck on his map, the Fool expected it to be nothing but an intersection and a dead raccoon, but it actually had few buildings, including a small consignment shop. The WF bought two ashtrays, a desk lamp and a children's-sized Pokémon t-shirt.
From the streets of Turin, our traveling tramp continued west on 175 for another 8 miles, still aware that he may be on the police's watchlist. He finally reached the town of Onawa, which boasts having the widest Main Street in America (about 75 feet wide).
The Fool also discovered that Onawa is famous for being the birthplace of the Eskimo Pie. He then strut down the wide Main Street, ignored the Eskimo Pie street carts, and hightailed it to a Super 8 Motel for rest and relaxation.
From the streets of Turin, our traveling tramp continued west on 175 for another 8 miles, still aware that he may be on the police's watchlist. He finally reached the town of Onawa, which boasts having the widest Main Street in America (about 75 feet wide).
Day 116
The Fool's feet felt like dry, cracked boulders, so he booked another night at the Onawa Super 8. He pulled a switcheroo and had Subway for lunch and DQ for dinner.
Day 117: The Cornhusker State
After taking a couple days off to let his heels cool, the fool finally packed it up and headed west. Seven miles later, he was over the Missouri River and in the next great state of Nebraska. The bridge was narrow and had a scary metal grid underneath as his only footing, but he made it across fine and fortunately didn't have to pay the 75-cent toll.
In the first Nebraskan town of Decatur, the WF met a few folks (including the local sheriff) who were very psyched about his walk. The Fool was very surprised with the down-to-earth attitude of the local lawman — as most cops either don't "get it" or simply don't give a shit.
The Fool walked another 18 miles, through a heavy wall of rain, finally settling down in a park in the town of Bancroft.
In the first Nebraskan town of Decatur, the WF met a few folks (including the local sheriff) who were very psyched about his walk. The Fool was very surprised with the down-to-earth attitude of the local lawman — as most cops either don't "get it" or simply don't give a shit.
The Fool walked another 18 miles, through a heavy wall of rain, finally settling down in a park in the town of Bancroft.
Day 118: Nebraska Freedom
The Walking Fool woke up, went onto Main Street in Bancroft, Nebraska, got a free pizza from a small market and a free haircut from a barber. He immediately declared Bancroft to be his favorite town so far… mentioning this to every squirrel or blue jay he encountered on the day's walk.
Nineteen miles later, the WF hit the town of Wisner, where he had a bloody steak at the Coachman's Steakhouse (which was connected to the Coachman's Bowling Alley). The salad bar consisted of iceberg lettuce and croutons. That was it.
The Fool was told by a local handyman/do-it-all that there was going to be a late-night concert at the city park, so sleeping there might be a tad troublesome. But he told him about a smaller park on the north end of town where he could find a quiet patch of grass to lay down on.
Nineteen miles later, the WF hit the town of Wisner, where he had a bloody steak at the Coachman's Steakhouse (which was connected to the Coachman's Bowling Alley). The salad bar consisted of iceberg lettuce and croutons. That was it.
The Fool was told by a local handyman/do-it-all that there was going to be a late-night concert at the city park, so sleeping there might be a tad troublesome. But he told him about a smaller park on the north end of town where he could find a quiet patch of grass to lay down on.
Day 119: Steaking Some Ground
The Fool went west on highway 275. About 5 miles later, he was joined by a leaping and bounding stray dog which became his walking companion. The Fool tried to shoo him away but the dog was determined to follow along. The dog kept obliviously wandering into traffic causing cars and trucks to screech to a halt. Finally the cops came and were able to restrain the dog so the Fool could escape over the horizon.
He continued along the hilly, treeless highway, panting under the hot sun for another 11 miles or so. Finally, as the sun started to sink in the sky, our walking friend reached Tony's Steakhouse located in the middle of nowhere.
After a hearty meal, the Fool was invited to camp out in the back by Tony, the gracious owner of the restaurant. Tired and weary of finding a suitable place to camp, the Fool quickly accepted. He thanked Tony and hopped into the backyard. He found a nice soft patch of grass next to the satellite dish and began setting up camp for the night, erecting his tent as patrons continued to dine inside. The folks in the steakhouse were only slightly taken aback when the WF popped inside to brush his teeth, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms.
He continued along the hilly, treeless highway, panting under the hot sun for another 11 miles or so. Finally, as the sun started to sink in the sky, our walking friend reached Tony's Steakhouse located in the middle of nowhere.
After a hearty meal, the Fool was invited to camp out in the back by Tony, the gracious owner of the restaurant. Tired and weary of finding a suitable place to camp, the Fool quickly accepted. He thanked Tony and hopped into the backyard. He found a nice soft patch of grass next to the satellite dish and began setting up camp for the night, erecting his tent as patrons continued to dine inside. The folks in the steakhouse were only slightly taken aback when the WF popped inside to brush his teeth, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms.
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