On the way to Starved Rock, we were passing through the small town of Wenona, IL, when Russ said “I think I know someone in this town! Pull over.” So I pulled off Main Street across from the library while he tried to remember the name of the man who had offered him a place to stay, gave him a tour of the town, and took him out for dinner and breakfast before sending him on his way in 2022. Alan remembered him instantly when Russ called, and came to meet us. After he and Russ did a little catching up, he made us promise to go out for dinner with him later in the week. Not only did he treat us to some of the best pizza I’ve ever tasted, we got the V.I.P. tour of Ottawa, site of the first Lincoln-Douglas debate in 1858.

Not only that, but he took us (and his lady friend, Mimi) out again on Saturday to BASH—Burgers And Sushi House! We really enjoyed spending time with Alan, and he was the consummate booster for his home-town area. Thanks again, Alan, for teaching us so much of the history of the area, and for two gourmet dinners!

If you are anywhere in the area of Ottawa, IL, ABSOLUTELY go to Starved Rock State Park. It sits along the Illinois River, and boasts miles of hiking trails into some of the most scenic canyons this side of the Mississippi. We spent two days hiking the canyons, and still didn’t get to all of them. I’m just going to let the pictures tell the story on this one.

Here, Russ took a picture to show how I was “breaking the rules” by scrambling up a steep incline to pursue an interesting orange fungus (it turned out to be a wadded up scrap of fabric). But I have this flattering portrait of myself to memorialize the moment.

On the second day we headed out early to beat the incoming thunderstorms, and saw Illinois and St. Louis Canyons. We chanced upon a younger woman having a snack in St. Louis Canyon who turned out to be a local hiking guide, and we heard the whole grisly story of how someone murdered three young women and hid their bodies in one of the small caves along St. Louis Canyon. (In all other respects, it was a beautiful, serene site.)

We sat for a while at the end of Illinois Canyon, just listening to the little waterfall and soaking in the cool, quiet beauty.

It will be worth a return trip, to come back when the larger waterfalls are flowing, and to visit nearby parks, such as Matthiessen, which also have scenic canyons.

After the excitement of Moe’s dramatic leap, it was nice to do some peaceful paddling. Moe seemed to agree, and made no attempt to jump out.

And I found these cuties growing on a dead log.

Try as I might, I could not positively I.D. them. Gills were decurrent, close, and white. They look very chanterelle-like to me. DM me if you think you know what they are.

One of Moe’s “endearing” traits is his total disregard of danger. He regularly gives Mom a heart attack by blithely standing on the edge of precipices:

Or by launching himself headfirst into all sorts of things.

He was only being true to form when, on a hike along the shore of Carlyle Lake, I stopped to exclaim at a vertical drop off down to the water. Moe raced over to see what was so interesting, and flew right off the edge.

It was a good 40 foot drop to the water (Russ insists it was at least 60 feet). Luckily, he only fell about 10 feet before he landed in a bush. Not since he launched himself into a fast, freezing Colorado River (see above) have I seen him look so scared.

While Russ shouted “don’t move!” to no effect, I frantically scouted along the bank for a way to get down, and scrambled down as close to Moe as possible. He got close enough for me to grab his harness and hoist him up. Russ gave me a hand up, as the tree branch I was hanging onto decided to be dead just at that moment.

Back in the camper, scuffed but unhurt, he was so worn out he didn’t even flinch during a loud thunderstorm. Being reckless is tiring!

Russ finished the Katy Trail, and rang the bell at Machens (the end point, not accessible by car), then rode three miles back to Black Walnut so I could pick him up. I thought this was an appropriate achievement for celebration, but before we headed out for lunch, we stopped to see the Our Lady of the Rivers shrine nearby (“A must-see,” according to Russ’s Warm Showers host of the night before).

It was indeed impressive, with a moving story of people praying to the Virgin Mary to intercede against flooding. The shrine stands right over the Missouri River, just above the confluence with the Mississippi.

But I still think it looks a bit suspicious from the back:

We headed across the river to Alton, IL and the Old Bakery Beer Company. We had a great lunch, Russ got to try a new beer, and Moe was allowed to stay with us. They even brought him a bowl of water!

Then it was off to see the Cahokia Indian Mounds, site of the largest Native American earthworks in America. Like the majestic mountains of the Rockies and Cascades, pictures just do not do justice to the size of these things. My first thought was “My god, this thing is the size of the pyramids.” I’ll let an informative sign give you some idea of the scale of Monk’s Mound, the largest of the structures:

Archaeological investigations suggest that Monk’s Mound and its adjacent constructions were a ceremonial area and a city of some 20,000 people, larger than London at the time (about 1,000 CE). The larger mounds served as temples and home sites for the ruling elite. Although the interpretive center is closed for renovations, the grounds are open, and we walked to some of the larger mounds bordering the Great Plaza.

Toward the back of the site, we encountered a doe and twin fawns. One of the fawns was curious about Moe, and even followed us for a bit.

Then it was back to Eldon Hazlet State Park.

Arrow Rock consists of a small historic town, a bit like Old Deerfield, as there are restored buildings open to the public mixed in with private residences and businesses (some of which are in the historic buildings). There is also a small but very nice campground within walking distance of the town, and some scattered sites of interest, such as the old river ford.

I was surprised by the number and variety of artifacts in the Visitor’s Center—really a small interpretive museum tracing the history of the area from the native tribes to the decline of the river trade routes. Not surprisingly, this area was a major trading hub long before the Europeans arrived, with easy river access to the north, east, and south. Pre-Civil War, it was an important staging point for people heading west on the Santa Fe Trail.

And the town really is charming:

In the gunsmith’s shop, I ran into one of the trustees of the Friends of Arrow Rock, who proceeded to gift me with his encyclopedic knowledge of the shop, John Sites, and the trials and tribulations of trying to make a go of an historic site that was (quite honestly) in the middle of nowhere. As a former fundraiser, I have a sympathetic ear for such woes, but I did finally manage to extricate myself and walked across the street, where I enjoyed a really delicious chicken salad sandwich on croissant (just the thing for a day in the ‘90s).

As with any historic town worth the mention, Arrow Rock has its famous sons. Dr. John Sappington (1776-1856) is credited with developing and manufacturing quinine pills to successfully treat malaria. He also wrote the first first medical book west of the Mississippi River, The Theory and Treatment of Fevers. And George Caleb Bingham (1811-1879) was a well-known 19th century painter of American frontier life along the Missouri River.

Back at camp, I kept seeing an emaciated tabby cat hanging around the campsites. Being the animal softie that I am, I immediately tried to help him (her?). But my attempts to entice the cat with food only sent it scurrying away to the safety of the underbrush. Finally, one evening as I walked past with Moe, I saw the cat near my site. I told it I would feed it if it would stop running away. To my surprise, when I looked back, the cat was following me. I got some raw hamburger out of the fridge and tossed a piece near it. In a flash, it had grabbed the meat and fled with it into the woods. I managed to provide it with a few more chunks of food before I had to leave. Poor thing!

The camp host, Missy, was a delight, and we had a few conversations in between her rounds of the campground. As her other job is interior painting, I left her with my copy of Color: A History of the Palette in the hopes she would enjoy it as I did.

Arrow Rock is both a state park, with campground and trails, and a state historic site, with a charming historic village where you can tour the mid-1800s homes and businesses of a bustling river town, a major starting point for the Santa Fe trail. Lewis and Clark passed through here.

But BOONVILLE was my focus, because of these:

Yep, that’s me with “Stan the Man,” one of the ambassadors of Warm Springs Ranch, the breeding and training facility for the world-famous Budweiser Clydesdales. If you’ve ever seen a Budweiser commercial, you’ve almost certainly seen Stan. Acting (and graciously posing for pictures with tourists) is kind of his specialty.

I declined the free beer samples (yuck!), and then the tour got started. There was so much to see. The ranch is on a beautiful property, with barns, outbuildings, even the beehives, painted that iconic Budweiser wagon red.

I got a chuckle out of the contraption in the last picture. This is a training aid for the wagon drivers, to practice steering with multiple reins. The bicycles are attached to a solid metal frame, with the handlebars, attached to the reins, free to turn. The golf cart propels the “hitch.” Our guide said they are amusing to watch, as novice drivers often end up in ditches.

And see those big rigs in the background? It takes three of them, two with horses, and one just for the wagon and all the gear, for each team that goes out to events. The hitch drivers don’t just drive the 8-horse hitches, they drive the 18-wheelers, too.

There are four stallions at stud: one was demonstrating the “grass is always greener” adage by nearly breaking a section of his paddock fence. These guys weigh over 2,000 lbs!

And then, of course, there were the babies:

They breed for a very specific “look” in their horses: bay coat, four white stockings, and a white blaze down the face. Maximus is a perfect specimen; Breeze clearly is not. I was assured she would not be sold, but would stay on the ranch. I was surprised to learn that there are only about 5,000 Clydesdales in the world, so this ranch is very important. Each 8-horse hitch is made up of geldings, carefully matched as to color and size. They even differentiate between the brighter (lighter) bays and the darker ones (like Stan): the lighter ones perform around the south and west, while the darker ones travel to the east and north, where weather is generally cooler, and their darker coats can retain the sun’s heat. They spend 3-4 years in training before they become part of one of the three hitch teams.

I had a great time, and highly recommend a visit if you are in central Missouri. There are different tours you can take, with different themes. Tours are on a regular schedule, and you do need to buy tickets in advance.

On to Arrow Rock…

More hot, muggy weather as Moe and I sweated out the 4th on Truman Lake, an absolutely ginormous man-made lake, with arms stretching out, octopus-like, in all directions. Being in a state park, where fireworks are prohibited, was no protection against a solid bombardment that began well before dark and lasted until nearly midnight. I thought Moe would shake himself to pieces.

All was not misery, however. Kayaking was excellent, with the shorelines well protected against boat wakes.

And we did find a hiking trail that was open: most were still closed, due to a tornado that had gone through the area in April.

And I did finally spy some interesting mushrooms!

Unfortunately, this oppressive heat is draining both of us: Russ is finding it hard to get the miles in, and I have little energy for activities.

BUT there is excitement ahead!

As I was driving Russ to the start of the Katy Trail yesterday, we passed through one of those small Missouri towns with a peculiar name. (There actually is a town in Missouri named Peculiar, but that’s another story.)

And there it was:

Yes, that was the name of the town. You can’t make this stuff up, folks!

(The bank was clearly defunct. I wonder why?)

We both desperately needed showers. Dogs are not allowed in the showers. We closed the camper windows (so Moe couldn’t jump out), we locked the door (just in case). Off we went to shower.

We didn’t raise the screens.

Camper screen before Moe:

Camper screen after Moe (and some mommy sweary bits):

We have screens that are held together with tape, thread, and clothespins (to keep the screen and the frame in contact), all thanks to Moe. We no longer have a screen door, because Moe (who weighs 14 pounds) actually broke through so hard he bent the frame. For a while, we tried one of those magnetic-closure screen doors (he tore that, too).

As Russ likes to say, “You picked him.”

Yes, I was in a pretty campsite overlooking a lake. Yes, the park was in the town of Marshall (I get a kick out of that, OK?), IL.

But I was miserable. Hot, sweaty, bug-bit, just f**king miserable. The AC turned up full wasn’t even cutting the heat, and it had dripped, soaking my sheet and one of my couch cushions. That’s how I went to sleep last night. I was ready to throw in the towel.

Oddly, I woke pretty early—6:30-ish—so I thought “What the hell, I’ll go out in the kayak.” Fed Moe, grabbed some o.j. and a handful of trail mix, and headed to the boat launch.

On the lake, there was a nice breeze, and the sun was still low enough that I could stay in the shade by hugging the shore. I fell into my usual rhythm of paddling smoothly along, then gliding silently into the many little coves and inlets. That’s where you see all the good stuff, like this deer:

The first deer I saw stared at me in surprise as I rounded a corner, but bolted off before I could get a picture. The second was busy foraging and didn’t notice me at first. When it finally did, it startled up the hill, coughing its hoarse alarm cry.

Passed a dad and his kids fishing off a dock. Kids always get a kick out of Moe lounging on the bow of the boat. I dipped into another byway, and ran across something I hadn’t expected—a swan!

There were dog roses, Indian paint brushes, and black-eyed Susans blooming along the water’s edge, and something that looked like a “hop tree.” Also a shrub with white “puffball” flowers (bees like them). A great blue heron let me get really close before it took off with a prehistoric “kronk.” And a lone Canada goose watched me suspiciously, but didn’t fly off, as I glided dangerously close to some floating duck weed to get a better look.

What I didn’t get pictures of: a baby raccoon tiptoeing along the water’s edge, looking for yummies. He fled into the vegetation before I could raise my phone. And a young muskrat gliding along in the shallows, who quickly about-faced and disappeared into his mudbank burrow.

Sigh. I love kayaking.