Travel Archives

November 23, 2012November 23, 2012

Dew Drop Inn

On my pilgrimage south on U.S. 61 (Highway 25 to the real oldtimers), I passed the Dew Drop Inn at the intersection of Hwy 61 and Hwy Y in Bloomsdale. It was the kind of thing that made me do a quick U-turn. I’ve heard of Dew Drop Inns, but have never been inside one. You can click on the photos to make them larger.

A quick Google search turned up less than a handful of reviews, including, “Good bar food. Tried the patty melt and would order it again. Drinks are reasonably priced with a nice pour.” This didn’t have a thumbs up or a thumbs down, so I’m not sure how to interpret it: “Hicksville. If you have more tattoos than teeth this is the place for you, don’t forget your shotgun and sister!”

This one was clearly favorable: “I was there for the first time last week. It was brilliant! Definitely a hole-in-the-wall…but I mean that in the BEST way. The bartender and cook (owners?) were really really nice, the clientelle all knew each other, and we all watched some kind of “Dumbest 100 Disasters on Wheels” on the TV together. I didn’t eat, but the pizza looked great. The appetizers were cheap (curley fries!!! $1.50 and Fried Pickles too!) and the decor was…quaint. Walls decorated with posters, signed photos, and what looked like gifts from the patrons. Milwaukee Best cans $1.50, Budweiser bottles $2.00. I want to live in this place. It felt like the home I never had.”

Lots of Dew Drop Inns

That Google search popped up lots of Dew Drops. Here are just a few towns:

Forks, Washington
Honolulu, Hawaii
Mobile, Alabama
Miller, South Dakota
New Orleans, Louisiana
Alpena, Michigan
New York, New York
Moline, Illinois
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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November 17, 2012

General Sherman, We Need You

I was making great progress heading back to Florida from Cape. The weather was great, traffic was light to moderate, everybody was pretty well-behaved.

Well, there was a bit of a delay at Monteagle Pass, but we’ll go into that another day. I’ve got a couple of different routes I take; this time I opted to go through Atlanta on 1-75. I’ve been lucky the last few times, blasting through the area in about 30 minutes with only a few taps on the brakes.

Coming into town just about dusk, I thought I was gong to catch a break again. See how nicely the traffic is spaced out?

Look at all the taillights

Alas, around the corner was a forest of red taillights as far as you could see. It took 1-1/2 hours to do what I have been doing in 30 minutes. The skies were clear. There were no wrecks. It was just like everybody confused and thought the Interstate was one big parking lot and they needed to practice for Black Friday.

General Sherman had the right idea

I’ve always been convinced that General Sherman had the right idea of what to do with Atlanta.

[Wife Lila, who always exhibits better taste than I do, objected to my General Sherman suggestion, pointing out the death and destruction he meted out on horrific March to the Sea. Atlanta, to me, has been the source of major traffic jams, is the home of the Atlanta Braves and was where our corporate HQ was located. None of those things endear the city to me. Maybe we could just build bypasses that bypass the bypasses that exist around the city and leave General Sherman to his rest.]

November 16, 2012

Marian Cliff Manor

On our way back to Cape after the James McMurtry concert in St. Louis and a pause at the Fourche a du Clos Valley Roadside Park, we rolled into the tiny town of St. Mary.

There’s not a lot to remember about St. Mary

It was (maybe still is) a notorious speed trap on Highway 61 (Highway 25 for REAL oldtimers).
Much of the town has been lost to Mississippi River flooding.
You don’t have to cross the Mississippi River to get to Illinois from there.
It’s where you turn off to go to Kaskaskia to see the Liberty Bell of the West.
There used to be a spooky old building up on the hill overlooking the town.

Built by slaves

The spooky old building is now a perky red and is a residential care unit. The Marian Cliff Manor’s website says that it was built with the help of slaves in 1861. The white tower was used by the Confederate sympathizer owner to view the movement of Union troops. Over time, it has been used by a number of religious non-profit groups. It is home for about 50 disabled veterans today.

November 14, 2012November 25, 2013

Fall at Kentucky Lake

Mother and I went over to Kentucky Lake Monday to winterize her trailer. For you Florida folk, that means that we drained all of the water out of the drains and water lines and put antifreeze in any place that water might pool. If you don’t keep the pipes heated, the water in them will freeze and the pipes will burst. That happened to her a couple of winters ago. It’s not pretty and it’s not cheap to fix.

While she was inside the trailer doing inside-the-trailer stuff, I was blowing away the leaves that had fallen so far. Leaves, again for you Florida folks, are a big deal up here. And, I am far from being a proficient leaf herder. I’m not convinced that I couldn’t do a better job with a leaf rake.

Anyway, once I got the ground cleared off, it was covered with a gazillion hickory nuts that were like walking on ball bearings.

More hickory nuts to fall

They’re not done falling, either. Hearing those things bounce off your trailer top must make you feel like you’re under machine gun attack all night long.

Ducks on the lake

We took a swing down to the campgrounds to see what was going on. These guys don’t seem to notice that the water’s growing colder in the late afternoon.

Naked tree

We couldn’t help but notice this dead, naked tree with all its bark missing as we passed the entrance to Camp John Currie. It was worth a u-turn.

Peeling paint to peeling bark

I know I’ve been posting a lot of what we journalistic photographer disdainfully call “peeling paint” photos, but I couldn’t resist this shot of a trunk with its bark peeled off.

Something got under its skin

At some point in its life, something crawled around between the tree’s bark and its trunk.

Pining away for Wife Lila

I had to put that bad pun in to keep Wife Lila from dispatching me as a stranger breaking into the house when I get back to Florida this weekend.