On the way to Sioux Falls, South Dakota where I am presently camping, I had entered Sioux City, Iowa. It was very close to the Nebraska border and I had never been to Nebraska. I was tempted to divert for the 30 miles or so and cross over the border, but I hadn’t slept at anyplace but rest stops for four days and I was tired, cranky and gas was being consumed at a way higher rate than I wanted.
But I had been in Sioux Falls for several weeks and it was time to explore. I had been buried in front of the computer for most of the day, and taking naps as well. And it was suddenly 3 p.m. I had to get out and do something as I was driving myself crazy and Pup, the pup who is no
longer a puppy, kept giving me a look that reflected my mood: “Let’s do SOMETHING other than hanging around the trailer,” the look said. I knew it well. Pup needs to go to a place where he can find something new to smell and walk around. Ever since I adopted him, he had peed in every state we had visited, so why not add another one?
The Nebraska border was only about 70 miles away. And where we are, the sun doesn’t set until around 9:40. My friends on the East Coast may wonder about that, but South Dakota is in both the Central and Mountain Time zones. The Mountain Time zone is about 100 miles away and so it sets later than an Eastern Time zone.
So, even though it was late in the afternoon, there were still more than six hours of daylight left. So we climbed into the truck and headed south. My earlier route as I drove from Iowa to South Dakota, involved taking Interstate 80 west and then driving North along Interstate 29, which is a North-South route in the Southeastern part of South Dakota, linking I-80 with I-90 over about 100 miles. When I headed for Nebraska, I figured I would just go back Southbound and continue West on I-80 into Nebraska.
But I stopped at a gas station at the Vermillion exit at Route 50 and they had a local road map that showed if I took State Route 50 West I would save at least 40 miles. And I was truly sick of interstate driving. I like to get some local color. So I set the GPS for a town called Newcastle Nebraska and started driving. As with most of Southeast South Dakota, there are lots of Corn fields and not much else. And I suddenly found myself approaching a large bridge when I beheld the Missouri River for the first time.
As I was looking at this scene, a photographer with a tripod came back from further uphill and he told me there were four different viewing places. So I started climbing. Pup gave me a look that said, “It’s about time.” He loves to go hiking with me and he immediately broke into his unmistakable grin of sheer joy as he climbed stairs and dragged me along.
We had a blast. He sniffed and marked his spot everywhere and with each observation level we reached, the views were even better. Eventually, we reached the end of the trail and I realized something was quite different. We were up pretty high. While we weren’t in mountains, we were on some pretty steep hills. It’s quite a contrast. On the South Dakota side of the river, the land is fairly flat and filled with corn and soybean fields. And it was just the opposite on the Nebraska side.
Even though I had accomplished my silly objective of visiting Nebraska, I decided to drive a little further into Newcastle. It was about five miles away. As I moved away from the river, I noticed something else was different. The hills were filled with fields that were clearly cultivated but here it was in the first days of summer and nothing was growing on them. I suspected that it might be a grazing area for livestock and I saw a few horses and a small herd of cattle. But then I saw a field with stacks of hay and I realized that this crop was the first harvest of the year.
Moving on a little bit, the cornfields re-appeared and the stalks were about two feet high. As I began my journey into corn country, which starts at the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, I had watched the crop grow from seedlings into an early crop where ears had started to emerge. Just about everywhere is fertilized. I saw fields that ran for miles without a farmhouse in sight. Yet the Nebraska farms were different in that they were on fields. I tried to imagine how tractors managed to maneuver around. Being raised on a farm,
the only terrain I had rode on was flat.
I reached Newcastle. It was a pretty little farm town with several churches, a town hall and a school. But there were no stores, gas stations or restaurants. I liked this place and wanted to leave a dollar or so in the local economy. I stopped and asked a couple leaving church services and they told me there was a restaurant a few miles down the road.
I drove a few more miles and couldn’t find anything but more farms. I decided to turn around and pulled to the side of the road to permit the minivan behind me to pass before doing my U-turn. I was stunned as they followed off the road and then pulled up to my right. They were at a very bad angle. They thought I needed help, though I had no idea how they could. I explained I was simply turning around and needed no help.
Suddenly we both were being harassed by a large black dog from the farmhouse we were in front of. He started to chase the minivan until it was able to pull back on the road and then barked furiously at us. Pup, who is generally a pacifist, does not have much tolerance for big dogs. I suspect he was once bitten by one and has a damaged ear to show for it. And so they engaged themselves in a rather spirited debate as I slowly did my U-turn trying not to hit the dog, which seemed rather suicidal.
And so we went back over the bridge and into South Dakota. I plugged in a Sioux Falls destination into the GPS and it took me back through the middle of Vermillion. It’s a really nice little town. I passed the University of South Dakota and its campus reminded me of the one where I graduated in Stony Brook, NY. It was also a smaller version of State College, PA, with a main street filled with fast food restaurants and other businesses catering to the college community.
As I reached Route 29, the sun was setting and I got some nice shots. One was a cornfield filled with the golden light of the sun’s last rays. A few minutes later, I shot another cornfield as the orange ball touched the horizon. As we continued to drive back north, there was a cloud that reflected the orange glow and twilight ended around 10:15 as I pulled off onto my exit.
So what did the road trip do for me? It renewed a zest for discovery; wondering what is around the bend. I’ve been thinking in terms of places like Mt. Rushmore, the Badlands and Yellowstone. But the true beauty of God’s creation often takes us by surprise.
