Today’s segment of Route 20 took me from Iowa Falls, Iowa to O’Neill, Nebraska–a distance of almost 300 miles. But while I covered more distance than usual today, I spent less time on the road. This is because I’m now in the Midwest/Great Plains part of the country, where US 20 runs straight and fast. Plus, frankly, there isn’t as much to see here, meaning fewer stops. This part of the drive is more meditative, with mile after mile of farmland, a big open sky, and almost no other traffic on the road.

As I left Iowa Falls, I noticed this popcorn stand on a downtown corner.

That neon sign looked pretty antique, and a little research revealed that there’s been a popcorn stand in Iowa Falls since the 1870s. The current incarnation has reportedly been around since 1947, though it looks like the wall panels have been replaced fairly recently. Unfortunately, I arrived too early in the morning to get a bag of popcorn. But it still made me smile to see such a simple, old-fashioned treat prominently featured downtown.

About 100 miles to the west I encountered a place called Sac City (pop: 2,000) (har!) I say “har” because Sac City has decided to promote itself through the currency of popcorn. Specifically, right on the side of US 20 (which is also Sac City’s Main Street), a four-and-a-half-ton popcorn ball is on display.

Now, this had me scratching my head. Of all the things you could do to put yourself on the map, creating the world’s largest popcorn ball and putting it in a roadside hut doesn’t seem like a huge tourist draw. Especially since it doesn’t seem to relate to the city’s history or industry in any way. What’s more, it seems like the shelf life of a giant popcorn ball would be somewhat limited. But most damning, this isn’t really even a popcorn ball–it’s just a bunch of popcorn dumped into a giant plastic bowl. The top of the popcorn “ball” is almost completely flat. The arrangement of the windows made it difficult for me to get a good shot (which points to another problem with this tourist “attraction”), but you get the general idea:

Still, I give Sac City an A for effort. They have brochures promoting the city next to the popcorn ball, there’s a QR code, there’s signage to other nearby points of interest…They’re really doing a lot to promote their city. I just question their choice of roadside attraction. Quite frankly, I liked Iowa Falls’ popcorn stand a lot better.

Now, the real head-scratcher today was this place:

Now that’s an odd name for a town. Is it build around a state prison? I didn’t realize at the time but the sign’s tagline–“Jog down our main street”–was a clue.

I “jogged down” the Main Street and encountered a monument that explained the name. The town’s name references a land surveying term called “correction lines.” Because of the curvature of the earth, north-south lines are adjusted with “jogs” every 24 miles. In Correctionville, this means that all the north-south streets “Jog” horizontally at 5th Street. Don’t ask me to explain it any further.

You can read more about correction lines on this close-up of the plaque. But do you notice anything unusual about it?

That’s right–Correctionville needs to “correct” the punctuation in the heading on this plaque. How embarrassing.

Oh, and speaking of Corrections: in yesterday’s blog post, the link to my story about the Wisconsin Wild West Town was left out. Here’s the link.

I returned to the road and eventually arrived in Sioux City, Iowa (pop: 86,000), on the banks of the Missouri River. It was here that the Lewis and Clark expedition (which was following the River toward its headwaters in the Rocky Mountains) buried Sgt. Charles Floyd, the only member of the expedition to die on the journey. He was buried on a bluff overlooking the river. This was in 1804.

Unfortunately, the river eroded the bluff where Floyd was buried, and exposed part of his grave. His skeleton was salvaged and reburied a bit further inland. Then, roughly 100 years after his death, Sgt Floyd was reburied again and his grave was marked with a 100-foot obelisk. (And you know how I’m a sucker for an obelisk!)

After paying my respects to Sgt Floyd, I returned to US 20 and crossed the Missouri River into Nebraska. This is the point in the trip where one needs lots of coffee. The road is straight and monotonous, but not without a stark beauty of its own.

I stopped for the night in one of the few towns of any size, a place called O’Neill (pop: 3,575). As you might guess by the name, O’Neill is named after an Irish immigrant by the name of John O’Neill. Incorporated in 1882, the town was settled mainly by Irish immigrants. Today, it takes that heritage quite seriously. Shamrocks adorn the local fire station, the school, the bank, even the local Subway sandwich shop. The pubs all seem to be Irish themed, and there are several Catholic churches and a Catholic school.

At this point in the trip I was feeling a need for a long walk, and fortunately O’Neill has something called the Cowboy Trail. This is one of those “Rails to Trails” arrangements, where an abandoned railroad right-of-way is converted into a hiking and biking trail.

The Cowboy Trail runs 317 miles along the old Chicago & Northwestern railroad route from Norfolk, Nebraska to Chadron, Nebraska. There’s only one railroad station still standing on the route, and as luck would have it it’s here in O’Neill.

After visiting the station, I spent an hour walking along the trail. It’s a quiet and pleasant walk along a crushed limestone path, with plenty of trees and wildlife. Who knows what the other 300-plus miles look like, but I think it would make for an enjoyable mountain bike trip over a couple of weeks. Towns and sleeping facilities are located all along the route.

But that’s another trip. Tomorrow I’ll again be heading west on Route 20.

BRIDGE CORNER

At the suggestion of loyal reader Peter D, this morning I walked across the so-called Swinging Bridge of Iowa Falls. I say “so-called” because it doesn’t really swing. But then neither do I…

Anyway, it’s a pedestrian suspension bridge across the Iowa River. It was originally constructed in 1897, and then re-built in 1909, 1925, 1956, and 1989. In other words, the bridge has been rebuilt every 23 years (on average). It’s now been 36 years since the last rebuild. But why worry about these things?

I crossed the Iowa River on the bridge, and returned to my starting point without incident. It’s actually very pleasant out there in the morning. Here’s a video of the peaceful scene.

My only complaint is that the bridge barely flexes while you walk on it. It certainly doesn’t live up to its “Swinging Bridge” moniker.

Deep cut: Now here’s a real swinging bridge that I crossed in Montana in 2022. It’s the Kootenai Swinging Bridge. The full blog post is here.

BEER OF THE DAY

I really wanted to get the BOTD at Brioux City Brewery in Sioux City. The name alone makes the place worthy. Alas, they were not open when I got there. So instead the BOTD comes courtesy of Marto Brewing Company in Sioux City, Iowa. Though “courtesy” is probably not the right word, as will quickly become evident.

Sioux City actually has several craft breweries, but Marto was distinguished simply by dint of being open at 11:30 am when I came through town. Though “open” is probably not the right word, because they couldn’t be bothered to unlock their doors until well past opening time. At any rate, I eventually got inside and bellied up to the bar. I greeted the bartender behind the counter, though “bartender” is probably not the right word. He was occupied washing out a big plastic bucket in the sink behind the bar, and explained to me “I don’t work here.” He eventually disappeared. Meanwhile, there were approximately a half-dozen servers standing around a table where (I later learned) various new foods were laid out for them to sample so they could speak with authority to the customers. Which presumes, of course, that they actually bother to talk to a customer. The servers filled their plates and went to various corners of the (otherwise empty) restaurant to eat their free food.

Finally a young woman wandered behind the counter and I asked her for the barrel-aged stout. She disappeared and returned with a glass of water. Just when I was going to repeat my request she asked whether I wanted the “Art of Survival” or the “Maple Fluff.” Going against my better judgment, I chose the latter.

I tell you all this backstory because I want to acknowledge that I wasn’t in the best mood to review their beer. Anyway, here we go:

The Maple Fluff is billed as a chocolate stout made with peanuts and marshmallows and aged in Jim Beam barrels for over two years. It’s also billed as 13.5 percent alcohol, which is why it comes in a small, 5-ounce goblet. Sounds promising, no?

From the very first sip, it’s clear that this is a case of false advertising. I don’t taste any marshmallow or peanuts. Without exaggeration, this tastes like I’m drinking molasses diluted with Trader Joe’s teriyaki marinade. I can’t overstate how sickeningly sweet this is. There is no trace of hops to even slightly counterbalance the unfermented sugars. And while I like robust, meaty stouts, this has the consistency of Pennzoil. Even after I finished the glass, the sides remained coated with a thick layer of the high-viscosity beer. You know how old glass window panes in a Victorian mansion are thicker at the bottom due to the gradual “flow” of glass downward in the course of a century or two? I suspect that’s how long it would take for this beer to drain from the sides to the bottom of the goblet.

Now, to be fair, a tablespoon or two of this beer would be good over vanilla ice cream. It also might make a good additive to your car’s crankcase if the piston rings are worn. But under no circumstances would you ever want to drink a full glass of this sweet sludge. Actually, that would be a good name for it: Marto’s Sweet Sludge. 1 star.