Nothing Temperate About These Temperatures

Sitting at a rest stop in western Iowa yesterday and watching the Weather Channel on the TV. The sound is off, but the weather anchors (weather girls? weather presenters?) are very excited about the weathering all around the country. Rain in Texas. Heat in the East. And in the Midwest, my little piece of heaven, there's a band of cool air pushing down from Canada and into the Midwest. That, combined with a massive low pressure system over the western states is causing some turbulent conditions for Iowa, Missouri, and the surrounding areas. It's giving me a massive career flashback.

But it all returns to normal Thursday, and we can expect temperatures to increase by as much as 25 degrees in the Davenport, Iowa, area. :-/

So, the common theme of this trip has been the weather. It's been a challenge, to be sure. Fortunately, my outer gear is keeping me warm, safe, and dry. But credit for the warm and dry portion goes to my new best friend; Helly Hansen. For nearly a week I've been bundling up with a base layer that includes the Warm Freeze 1/2 Zip Top and the HH Dry Fly Pants. Seriously, they wick, they warm, they do the job. The trick lies in the use of merino wool. Helly Hansen always seemed like a trendy brand, but it works, man. I'm a convert.

So the sun returned today, though the temperatures were still a little chilly. I donned my Buzz Lightyear uniform, as Cece calls it, for the ride across the Mississippi River and all those vowel states; Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio.

I've passed a lot of distractions along the way; geological formations from the Mississipian Age in Wyoming, the Fort Hays set from "Dances with Wolves" in South Dakota, the birthplace of Laura Ingalls Wilder in De Smet (How can Nellie me so MEAN??), John Wayne's birthplace in Iowa, but Galesburg, Illinois, pulled me in with the birthplace of Carl Sandburg. Oh sure, Knox College hosted the first Lincoln-Webster debate, but I've always thought Lincoln to be a little too theatrical. Assassinated in a theatre--really? 

What, too soon? C'mon, did you not just read my posting about Mt Rushmore? You. Must. Go.

I've got a connection with Sandburg that goes back to 5th grade. Miss Chapman at Hollin Meadows Elementary--only the coolest teacher in the school because she used art in all her lessons--recruited me to illustrate "Fog" by Sandburg:

     The fog comes

     in on little cat feet.

     It sits looking

     over harbor and city

     on silent haunches

     and then moves on.

Poetry man.

That painting is still framed in my house. Thank you, Miss Chapman.

So, with signs pointing to Sandburg's birthplace, I wound my way through the depressed little town of Galesburg. They are trying to build a vibrant downtown, but missing out on creating a destination for Sandburg's home. Seriously. It's alongside the railroad tracks and you get to it by turning right off of  Seminary Street at Tom's Gun Shoppe (the extra "pe" adds class).

Sandburg deserves better.

By the way, this was another 500 mile day. I think the AirHawk pad has a leak. All I really know for sure is that my knees hate me right now. 

Tomorrow: "THE..."