Cowboy Country

June 6, 2025 steveboilard7 Comments

In all my jaunts along the various blue highways criss-crossing the map, it never ceases to amaze me how varied this country is. Just over the past week I’ve gone from coastal New England, through the green hills of the Berkshires, into lighthouses on the Great Lakes, through the rust belt of South Bend and Chicago, between the manicured fields of Iowa farms, and under the leaden skies of the Great Plains.

In all honesty, there hasn’t been a single segment that I haven’t enjoyed, that I haven’t experienced beauty, that I haven’t met wonderful people. And yet, today’s segment was characterized by lots of long, straight stretches at freeway speeds across the plains of Nebraska. Faithful reader Brian W. had encouraged me to “enjoy the unique look and solitude” of western Nebraska. And I did. The sheer scale of its open space forces one to relax, and the solitude is conducive to contemplation.

US 20 is the only major east-west route in the northern half of Nebraska. (Interstate 80 runs along the lowest third, through Lincoln and Omaha. For this reason, there has historically been a good amount of services along US 20. I encountered a surprising number of old garages and gas stations that have been preserved or restored to their vintage look. I peeked in the garages and saw walls lined with fan belts, racks of oil, piles of tires, and other evidence that these places still do business.

But what I appreciate more than the restored buildings are the historic roadside attractions that have just kept going, year after year, with just enough maintenance to stay in the game. That seems to be more the rule out in this part of the country. I’m sure part of the reason is that the local economy can’t support the wholesale replacement of infrastructure unless there’s a good reason. And there’s not enough population to entice national chain stores to locate their businesses here. The result is a “time warp” situation in many of these towns. Here are a few examples:

“Big John’s” had been a local burger chain in the 1960s that never caught on. This is evidently the only remaining sign–some sixty years old. The current business is an independent cafe in Ainsworth, Nebraska (pop: 1,600).

In the town of Lusk, Wyoming (pop: 1,500) a redwood water tower still stands next to the railroad tracks. It dates to 1886, and used to provide water to the steam locomotives. They moved it once, in 1919, in line with changes in the railroad. The Tower is now something of an icon for the town, but it’s authentic and as you can see in the photo, the whole scene could be from a century ago.

The Lusk Light and Power Plant also looks to be a historical relic, but I couldn’t find any information on it

The Plains theater in Rushville, Nebraska (pop: 784) dates back to 1914. It’s gone through a number of different iterations, including a movie theater and a church. Today it is a live theater venue.

But let’s get back to US 20 itself. For the first 250 miles of today’s drive, the Cowboy Trail (that I mentioned in yesterday’s blog) runs alongside the highway. You’ll recall that the Cowboy Trail used to be a railroad line that’s been replaced with a hiking/biking path. I was surprised that I didn’t see a single person on the trail, but it’s still pretty new and maybe word hasn’t gotten around. But it’s interesting to see how all the old railroad bridges have been replaced with pedestrian bridges.

The lower pilings are left over from the railroad; the new wood slats on the upper sides were added for the Cowboy Trail.

*The old railroad roadbed has been covered with crushed granite.*

The reassuring monotony of the plains and the cloudy sky, with the Cowboy Trail close by at my right, had something of a lulling effect that required periodic infusions of coffee. But suddenly, in the mid-afternoon, I spotted some sharp buttes rising from the plains. These were most welcome after The Unbearable Flatness of Being that characterized most of the day’s drive.

I stopped at the nearby town of Crawford, Nebraska (pop: 1,000) to see if I could learn more about the buttes. My first stop was to get a refreshing beverage from a young entrepreneur named Case.

Then, in the center of town, I found the local tourist bureau/museum. The door was open wide, and as I entered I was greeted by a docent named Cathy. She didn’t have a lot to say about the buttes, but she did encourage me to visit Fort Robinson, just a couple of miles up the road. Her father had been stationed there once upon a time, and a couple of family heirlooms are in the lodge.

*Cathy is retired and volunteers at several places in town.*

Fort Robinson has been around since the 1870s, playing a major role in the so-called Indian Wars, as well as the First and Second World Wars. The “Buffalo Soldiers” were stationed here, horses and mules were bred here, military canines were trained here, and it even served as a POW camp for German prisoners. The army decommissioned the fort in 1947, and it was converted into a state park in 1956.

1905 Headquarters Building, now repurposed as a visitors center.

*One of a number of large horse barns, from when Ft Robinson was a “remount depot.”*

Per Cathy’s suggestion I visited Fort Ross and tracked down the family heirlooms–these consisted of a “shadow box” with mementos from Cathy’s father, and a large art piece shaped like a buffalo, made entirely of buffalo nickels that Cathy’s family had collected from a bar they used to run.

Cathy’s father was on the camp’s polo team.

A small fortune in buffalo nickels. (Apologies for the unavoidable reflection in the glass.)

A kind lady at the lodge helped me locate these items…and she turned out to be Cathy’s sister Diana. The resemblance is obvious.

By now it should be pretty obvious that most of the towns along this stretch of Route 20 are quite small and spaced far apart. It’s certainly a big change from California, where I come from. The population density in California is 254 people per square mile. In Nebraska it is one tenth of that, at 25 people per square mile. In Wyoming it’s 6 people per square mile. You have to wonder what kind of impact these differences have on a person’s sense of self, sense of society, sense of independence.

The smallest town that I passed today was Lost Springs, Wyoming. For some reason that I can’t fathom, they really leaned into their smallness when they commemorated the country’s bicentennial in 1976. At that time they erected this marker (which to me looks like a tombstone) that declares they are the “smallest bicentennial town.” According to the US Bicentennial Commission, in 1976 Lost Springs –with a population of 7–was the smallest incorporated town in the entire country.

They’re even smaller now:

BRIDGE CORNER

Near the town of Valentine, NE (pop: 2,600) a roadside sign directed me to a “historical bridge.”

A marker explained that this is the Bryan Bridge, which is the country’s only “arched cantilever truss bridge connected by a single pin.” Whatever that means. It was also designated “the most beautiful steel bridge of 1932 in class C,” which sounds like it might be a narrow category, but what do I know?

To test the “most beautiful” claim, I scrambled down the embankment and risked life and limb and tick bites to take the below photo from the bank of the Niobrara River.

*Most beautiful of all the class Cs in 1932? You be the judge.*

BREW OF THE DAY

There aren’t many brew pubs along this stretch of US 20. But I did find a place called “Cowboy State Brewing Company” in Glenrock, Wyo (pop: 2,400). Long-time reader Peter D. had recommended the town to me, as it was his father’s and his grandmother’s home town.

Now, Cowboy State is not your typical California-style brew pub. It’s a bar that dates back to the mid-1970s, with dim lighting, pool tables, and a bar stocked with gin and vodka. The place reeks of cigarette smoke, which might be because Nebraska allows smoking in bars, or maybe because 50 years of smoke can’t be eradicated from the pores of the room.

*The 1970s called and they want their bar back.*

Now if you think this doesn’t sound like my kind of brew pub, you’re right. I asked the bartender, Billie, if this was really a place where they brewed their own beer. She said yes, but then admitted that they “had to let the brewer go,” and thus they aren’t making beer right now. Nevertheless, she still had some of the Cowboy Cream Ale that they had made for the State Fair last year. Did I want to try it? Now, I’m not sure what the shelf life is for beer, but I suspect it’s somewhat less than a year. Nevertheless, I told her to pour me one–I had a blog to write!

Before I get to the beer, let me just say that Billie is one of those people who make you feel welcome at a bar. She came here from Louisiana just about a year ago, and took over as the manager. She says she puts in about 70 hours a week, but she’s still all smiles and energy.

However, the beer wasn’t very good. Maybe it’s because it was old. Maybe it’s because it’s a weird recipe. Maybe it’s because it’s just not my style. But to me it tasted like Budweiser–that kind of skunky, watery, feed-grainy, metallic taste that mystifyingly is popular with 32 percent of American beer drinkers. I can’t in good conscience give it any stars. But I do need to acknowledge that it was popular at the Nebraska State Fair and is a favorite with the locals. So maybe it’s just me.

I should point out, though, that the beer was only $2 (which is just 50 cents more than Case’s lemonade). And Billie gave me a branded beer cozy!

Breweries · bridges · cemeteries · Obelisks · Road trips · trains

Redenbacher’s Revenge

June 5, 2025 steveboilard1 Comment

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?

*A good place for the Billy Goats Gruff to cross.*

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.

*That faucet in the background is where the random worker was washing out his bucket.*

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.

Breweries · bridges · Movies · Road trips · trains · Yard art

Bridge-A-Palooza

June 2, 2025 steveboilard4 Comments

You’ll recall that yesterday I filmed myself crossing the US’s longest covered bridge, and then ended the day in Geneva OH where I encountered the country’s shortest covered bridge. Loyal reader Detlef K. asked why I didn’t include footage of crossing the Geneva span. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. So first thing this morning I returned to the Geneva bridge to correct my oversight. Here is the fruit of my labor:

Today actually turned out to be a bridge-filled day. Take, for example, this bridge that carries US Route 20 traffic over the Vermillion River in Wakeman, OH. It was built in 1933, and I’m told it’s an “open-spandrel, concrete-arch” design.

I’m no engineer, but I can appreciate how graceful that arch design is. And the fact it’s been there for almost a century is certainly impressive.

I took the picture from atop a pedestrian/bike bridge, and got to wondering what that bridge looks like from the side. So I moved over to the Wakeman (US 20) bridge and took this picture of the pedestrian bridge:

Is that impressive, or what?? It turns out the pedestrian/bike path was placed atop an 1872 railroad bridge. Trains haven’t come through here in decades, so about a decade ago the “rails to trails” people retrofitted it.

But then there’s Cleveland (pop: 363,000). US 20 cuts through the town on surface streets, and the experience of driving it is infinitely different from the peaceful cruise through innumerable small towns that I’d experienced the past few days. This morning’s drive through Cleveland was crowded, people were honking, blight was evident on both sides of the road. I did make a small detour to find the house that was used for the exterior shots of A Christmas Story (1983). But I got lost and found myself in a jungle of massive, looming bridges that cross the river at all angles. And that’s when the magic happened: I saw what makes Cleveland unique. I saw 200 years of history. Would it be going to far to say I saw its heart?

I took most of the following photos from a trail that was once the “towpath” along the Ohio and Erie Canal. Mules labored along these paths pulling boats and barges up the canal via ropes. The modern trail/historic towpath runs alongside the canal for about 100 miles. I walked less than a mile of this path, passing under and next to innumerable bridges–some still in service, and some decommissioned.

*I was wondering if the rusty old Nickel Plate Road High Level Bridge was still operational, and suddenly a Norfolk Southern train clattered over it.*

*Detail of one of the eight “Guardians of Traffic” on the 1932 Hope Memorial Bridge. Note that he’s holding a truck.*

*Railroad center-lift bridge, now decommissioned.*

Want to see one of these types of bridges in operation? Here I am waiting in traffic for an automobile bridge to return to earth:

*One of the modern spans. (Can one of my loyal readers identify it for me?)*

*A remnant of the 1888 Central Viaduct.*

*Rubble from the demolition of old bridges and associated structures, now used as ground cover next to the Towpath.*

*The modern towpath in foreground, with old and new bridges in background.*

Evidently Cleveland has over 300 bridges, many of which cross the Cuyahoga River. I’m not going to make you view them all. But you’ve got to admire the engineering and the grit that went into building these over the past two centuries. And you also have to admire how modern Clevelanders somehow navigate daily through this confusing labyrinth.

We now move on to the non-bridge-related part of the day:

Here’s a different kind of engineering project, carried out by a high-school dropout who taught himself welding, electronics, power delivery, and a ton of other stuff:

This is all on a lot on a residential street. Let’s look a little closer:

It’s all the work of local artist Tim Willis. And those robots and dragons actually move with electric servos, and the trucks have powerful engines that presumably could get them into a monster truck show. My readers will recall that I have a soft spot for yard art; this is incredible. Spend a minute or two hearing from Tim himself:

Sadly, he wasn’t available when I dropped by.

Next up was the town of Kipton, OH. A new reader named Bob suggested I check out the site of the “Great Kipton Train Wreck of 1891.” There’s a marker at the site explaining how a head-on railroad collision occurred because the watch of one of the conductors was four minutes slow. Leaving aside the issue of whether it’s wise to create railroad schedules that have two trains occupying the same space just minutes apart, this accident prompted the railroads to adopt strict standards for railway timepieces.

*The marker sits in a park/bike trail that used to be the rail line where the accident occurred.*

Finally, can anyone identify the building below? (You already had a hint.)

Beer of the Day

I nabbed my BOTD at the Inside the Five Brewing Company, just west of Toledo, Ohio. It’s owned by two retired NFL players: Chris Morris (Oakland Raiders) and Brandon Fields (Miami Dolphins). They both retired in the Toledo area, and started this brew pub in 2018. I’m told “Inside the Five” is reference to the last 5 yards of the gridiron. But it’s all Greek to me.

Anyway, the place is evidently very popular–it was packed when I got there on a Monday evening. They have a big space, with comfortable outdoor seating on a deck that overlooks the street. They also have friendly servers, and the weather was perfect. What better place to get the BOTD?

I had a pint of their Deimos, which is an American Porter. As we all know (after consulting Wikipedia), in Greek mythology Deimos was the son of Ares (god of war) and Aphrodite (goddess of love). Somehow he turned out to be the god of dread and terror. Should I be worried for ordering this beer?

Deimos is made by brewing a traditional Porter and adding local coffee and vanilla. Both of these tastes are prominent in the beer, though the vanilla is more prominent on the nose than on the palate. The mouthfeel is incredibly smooth. It’s very lightly carbonated, and has no foam to speak of. The ABV is 6.5 percent. The color is quite light for a porter–it’s the color of honey, or maybe the color of coffee when you use the Kuerig pod a second time.

Speaking of coffee: The coffee flavor is not particular roasty; instead it reminds me of Coffee Nips (TM) candy. There’s also a sweetness to this beer that is just this side of cloying. The beer seems to have no bitterness at all, with just the slightest evidence of hops on the finish. I’d say this is more of a dessert beer, that wears out its welcome as you move through a full pint of it. I’d give the first half 4.5 stars, and the second half 3 stars. I guess that means the overall score is 3.75.

Breweries · bridges · cemeteries · Road trips · trains

Rain Man

May 31, 2025 steveboilardLeave a comment

This morning I awoke in Great Barrington to pouring rain. It lasted all day, which, to say the least, put a damper on the day. Har.

Because of the weather I didn’t get out of the car as much as I’d have liked. So allow me to finish up my story of yesterday’s travels:

Around 4 pm I was passing the town of Chester, Mass. (pop: 1,300). A sign advertised a historic railroad depot and museum just a few blocks away, so I figured I’d make a quick stop. Alas, the station–which is beautifully restored–was closed for the day. Disappointed, I sat on a bench on the station’s front porch and began to consult my map to figure out where I’d get dinner.

*Chester Depot, which dates back over 150 years.*

Then a man approached me from a house directly across the street. Dave (for that was his name) turns out to be a long-time volunteer at the station who frequently gives tours. Since he lives across the street, he’s able to come out and greet visitors even when the place is supposedly closed. And so, for the next hour or so, I got a private tour of the depot.

The depot has been lovingly restored since it was acquired from the railroad in quite rough condition. After the railroad stopped running passenger service, the station was used as a maintenance and storage facility, which means the walls and hardwood floor literally took a beating. But look at it today:

The railroad and depot are notable for a number of reasons (believe me, I heard them all!) but most notable is that the station is situated at the bottom of a mountain. The rail line had a steep grade, so trains would stop here while “helper” engines were added to push or pull the train over the mountain. Another notable aspect of the railroad is a series of 10 stunning keystone arch bridges, built in the 1840s, that still carry trains over the Westfield River. Oh, and the railroad was surveyed and/or engineered by George Washington Whistler…that is, the painter Whistler’s father. (Everyone only knows Whister’s mother.)

At Dave’s urging I visited one of these keystone arch bridges, only a few miles from the depot. It’s picturesque and impressive from an engineering perspective.

Finally, I got back onto Route 20 and headed up that self-same mountain that necessitated the helper engines years ago. An automobile road over the mountain was added in 1910, though it was a primitive, difficult drive. Modern Route 20 parallels that original road, and arrives at the same 1,775-foot summit. And so, when I arrived at the summit, I encountered a stone cairn monument that was originally placed there in 1910. It was made from stones collected from roadway infrastructure from all over the world.

So much for yesterday. Today, as I mentioned, I spent the day driving through rain. But I did manage to make a couple of worthwhile stops. One was The Tepee–a classic roadside attraction from the Golden Age of road trips.

The Tepee is a souvenir shop that dates back to 1950. It’s the kind of place that my brother and I always begged our parents to stop at, so we could get Big Hunk candy bars, “perpetual motion” drinking birds, paperweights with the name of the state we were visiting, and suchlike.

The Tepee is owned by sisters Dale and Donna, who bought it from their father over a decade ago. So it’s definitely a family operation. Dale is the friendliest person you’d ever want to meet, and exudes a love for her business and her customers. She also really knows her Route 20 trivia, which kept me entertained for quite awhile. This place embodies the reasons that I value these road trips.

At Dale’s urging I took the US 20 “scenic bypass” that was the original route 20 alignment. It’s a little narrower and hillier than the new alignment, but it’s also greener and it passes through the village of Cherry Valley (pop: 2,300).

Cherry Valley is a cozy little town, nestled amid trees and hills. I stopped in at a used bookstore that, to me, looks like it came out of a Dickens novel It was built in 1840, and the current owner told me Samuel Morse (inventor of the eponymous Morse Code) developed his telegraph here in the late 1840s.

The bookstore owner (whose name I failed to get) told me that Cherry Valley used to be a thriving community until US 20 was re-routed, taking all the drive-through traffic with it. He told me the highway was moved in order to satisfy a powerful state legislator whose own property would benefit from the change. I have been unable to corroborate this.

Before long I crossed the state line into New York. Driving through this part of the country feels like going back in time.

*Old farrier/blacksmith along the roadside, dating back before automobiles. The owner gave me an affogato, God bless her!*

*1893 Burrow Chapel in Lake View Cemetery, Skaneateles, NY.*

Finally, I arrived in Seneca Falls, NY (pop: 7,000). It’s a pleasant town situated on the shore of Seneca Lake (the largest of the Finger Lakes). Seneca Falls was the site of the first women’s rights convention (in 1848), and it continues to play up that role with a major Women’s Rights Museum. It also claims to be the inspiration for the fictional town of Bedford Falls from Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life. Among other things, the bridge where Jimmy Stewart’s character tried to kill himself was supposedly modeled on Seneca Fall’s Bridge Street Bridge (I’m not making up that name). I visited the bridge today, and I do see the resemblance…but I could say that about many other bridges as well.

*In the 1946 movie, George Bailey jumps off the bridge to save someone in the water. In 1917, real-life Antonio Varacalli jumped off the Seneca Falls bridge to save someone in the water.*

*“Bridge Street Bridge” in Seneca Falls.*

Finally, I stopped for the night in Geneva, NY (pop: 13,000). It is here I had my….

Brew of the Day

I got my BOTD Geneva’s Lake Drum Brewing. It’s one of the friendliest, most laid-back breweries I’ve been to. I ended up spending two hours chatting with the bartender(s) and a couple of regulars, while I worked my way through a flight of beers and the BOTD…which we’ll get to in a moment.

*Steve, Laura, Sam, and Aaron–my new friends at Lake Drum Brewing.*

But first let me describe this place. They brew their own beer (with about eight beers currently on tap), plus they brew their own cider, plus they even make a couple of wines. They have an extensive (and I mean massive) collection of vinyl records that they play on a turntable that resides in an old wine barrel.

They have patio seating for when it’s not raining, and endless free popcorn. But what’s most important is that they made me feel welcome, including me in a meandering conversation that touched on fishing, equine care, cross-breeding of cats, the best burger places in the region, music, foreign travel, and funding of the arts. Anyone in the food/drink business should take note: what gets people coming back is not what you’re serving, but how you treat your customers.

Anyway, speaking of serving drinks: today’s Brew of the Day was not a beer, but a kombucha. Now, I know kombucha has been popular for some years now, but I’d never tasted one until now. For those few of you (like me) that missed the kombucha train, it’s essentially fermented tea. Which maybe doesn’t sound that great, but this was refreshing and delicious. It was flavored with ginger and mint, and it’s just as refreshing as it sounds it would be. It’s got light carbonation, but almost no alcohol, so you could throw it back like iced tea on a hot day. I feel I have no standing to actually rate this drink, since it’s the only one I’ve ever had. But I enjoyed it immensely. I do worry, however, the Marianne’s Phenomenon could be at play. (I describe the Marianne’s Phenomenon in my memoir…but essentially it refers to one’s enthusiastic experience with a new food resulting in large part from being hungry or otherwise affected by the setting.)

Tomorrow’s BOTD will return to actual beer.

California history · Road trips · trains

Central Controversy

April 16, 2025 steveboilardLeave a comment

In a recent blog post, I asserted that Kingsburg, CA is “smack-dab in the middle of” California. I based this assertion on nothing more than a quick glance at a map.

Several alert readers called out my unsubstantiated claim. The reader with the best case was Jeff N., who wrote: “To go to the official center of the state, head a little North out of Fresno to a spot near the town of North Fork. There’s an official surveyors mark noting the exact center of the state.”

A quick search of various sources provided unanimous corroboration of Jeff’s claim. For instance, check out this newspaper article from the Desert Sun.

Coincidentally, I did stumble across a (sort of) competing claim in the town of Shafter, CA (pop: 22,000). Shafter is home to a 1917 Santa Fe railroad depot, which now serves as a railroad museum. I visited the station because the folks at the Kingsburg Depot meeting I attended the other evening told me that Shafter was their “sister depot”…whatever that means. So I made a quick visit.

Anyway, during my visit I noticed this marker, which proudly boasts “California 2010 Center of Population.” So while North Fork is the geographical center of California, Shafter is the population center…at least based on the 2010 census.

*“Center of Population” marker on the ground.*

But upon closer inspection, the plaque above the marker reads:

The survey monument below commemorates the geographic location of the center of population of the State of California for the 2010 Census. The actual location of the 2010 center lies in a farmer’s field on the south side of San Diego Street and 2,132 feet east of Wasco Avenue, four miles southwest of this point.

All of which raises the obvious question: Why couldn’t they put the marker any closer than 4 miles from the proper location???

Incidentally, the 2020 census still places California’s population center in the town of Shafter. Here’s a good article, for context.

As an aside: close to the Shafter depot is this historic middle school, the facade of which reminds me of a creepy Twilight Zone episode where the school messed with the students’ minds.

*…But aren’t these column-topping figures a little creepy?*

But to return to the competing claims as the “center” of California: I would be remiss if I didn’t reprise this 2022 photo I took in Glasgow, MT. Few could argue with their claim!