Category: Route 66 (2017)

The next morning we woke up to something quite unusual – the blue sky!  So far, every morning greeted us with rain and shit, so not having to put on the waterproofs was a welcome change.  Hoping it would stay like this for at least a couple of hours, we defiantly packed the waterproofs in our side bags, said good bye to our unwelcoming digs in Galena, eat breakfast in the only town’s diner that we could not locate on the map for love or money, but that was pointed out by several friendly locals the night before, and continued on our way.

Ed Galloway Totem Pole Park

With the weather continuing in the non-rainy mode, we actually stood a chance of doing the sightseeing plan for the day.  Our first stop, just an hour away out of Galena, was the Ed Galloway totem pole park.  A wacky collection of concrete totem poles, decorated with elaborate and colorful wood carvings was set on a green field off the road. Lit by the rays of the morning sun, with a backdrop of piercing blue sky, the poles looked absolutely magnificent in their grandeur.  Built by a retired manual crafts teacher, the totem pole park quickly became one of Oklahoma’s landmarks and a Route 66 icon.

It’s a tribute to Native American culture, and the imagination of its creator.  The center piece of the park is a giant Totem Pole building, built on top of a huge concrete turtle that seems almost squashed by the weight and size of the main building.  The place was not overrun by tourists – together with us only two other visitors were walking around – a retired couple that tried to park their car as far away from our bikes as the tiny parking lot would allow, and kept shooting us worried looks from across the field.  The looks were totally unprovoked – even though we skipped the shower for purely hygienic reasons this morning (an oxymoron in itself, I know, but the Galena motel did not really call for a more intimate acquaintance with its facilities…), I don’t think we started smelling just yet.  We were also friendly, and smiled reassuringly across the field at the old couple, but maybe just the size of our bikes, and predominantly black clothing made them cautious…  We did not test their nerves, and having taken a couple of obligatory tourist photos went on our way, waving the couple good-bye.  Despite the loud pipes of our bikes I could almost hear their sighs of relief…

Iconic as it became, the Ed Galloway totem pole park can rather be attributed to the lesser-known sights of the Mother Road, known only to the initiated individuals.  Our next stop definitely made it to each and every book about the Main Street of America, and became one of the most recognizable attractions on Route 66.

The Blue Whale of Catoosa

The famous Blue Whale of Catoosa was part of a recreational park, built by Hugh Davis, a wildlife photographer and curator of the Mohawk Zoo in Tulsa between 1970 and 1972, and together with canoe rentals and a small zoo served the entertainment needs of the people of Catoosa.  Initially an anniversary present of Hugh to his wife Zelda, and built on their private property in a small pond, the whale became so popular with the locals, that the Davises opened the place to the public, and adorned it with picnic tables, said little zoo, and other entertainment options.  They only managed to keep it running till late 1980-ies, when it closed to the general public and after the death of first Hugh and then Zelda, fell into disrepair and abandon.

The whale was too good (and famous) to let it disappear into oblivion, though, and at the beginning of the 21^st century the local community restored the blue giant to its original glory.  It is now open daily, “from 8am till dark”, has a tiny gift shop, and welcomes visitors and Route 66 enthusiasts from all over the world.  The pond has not been cleaned since 1970-ies and grew over with algae and grass, so even the big “No swimming” signs aside, one would hardly think of dipping into the brownish-green waters, and the whale’s slides have not been used for a long time, you can still imagine how much fun the place was back in the day!

The Blue Whale of Catoosa also got forever engraved in our memories for the best tacos in the world we got from a colorful little shed with the name of “Molly’s Taqueria” perched on the side of the Whale’s car park.  We ordered two helpings, and were so impressed with the amazingly flavorful and beautiful food that forgave the owners for the blatantly pro-Trump stickers decorating the shed and the car parked next to it.  Which was the second oxymoron of the day – considering the man’s views and politics, the last people you would imagine supporting him would be the taco food truck owners…  Yet, here we were – America, the land of contrasts… 
But anyway – fuck politics!  We were just here for the tacos.

Roadkill Musings…

When travelling through the United States on the road, the easiest way to observe the change in landscape and climate zones is through the roadkill.  Somewhere around Tulsa, the possums and raccoons of Illinois and Missouri started getting mixed up with the armadillos of Oklahoma and by the time we hit Texas, this was the predominant species decorating the sides of the road in a variety of ran over and squashed forms.  But I am getting ahead of myself – Texas was still at least a day ahead, the stop for this night was planned in Oklahoma City.

Rock Cafe

Not before stopping for yet another roadside attraction – the Rock Café in Stroud, Oklahoma, known to general public by the Pixar Animation Studios movie “Cars”.  Here we blended right in!  A group of large rough-looking men on shiny giant motorcycles, more resembling motorized sofas than transportation vehicles, watched us park our own sofas next to theirs, offered compliments on my parking skills, and commented on how great it was to see a woman riding her own bike instead of being on the back.  Finally!!!!  The validation I’ve been craving!!!!  I was so glad I did not drop the bike, or did anything stupid in front of this appreciative audience! 🙂  While we definitely missed on the body size (it will [hopefully!] be a while till our general physique will fit in with the more mainstream biker crowd), we were accepted and recognized for the riding skills and engine size.  Well done, us!

With the beautiful Trump whale tacos still warming our stomachs, we weren’t particularly hungry, and stopped at the Rock Café for its memorabilia value, but once there, we decided that coffees were definitely on the menu.  Coffee in, we also got tempted by snacks – a chili hot dog for Nic and a portion of fried green tomatoes for me.  Why can’t you find the fried green tomatoes in Europe?…  Is it against some obscure EU rule to cook unripe vegetables?…  I have no clue, but state this fact with regret, as this simple and easy to prepare snack definitely deserves to headline European menus!  Snacks or no snacks, the portions of food we ordered were gigantic.  Nic braved his chili dog, but I barely made a dent in the pile of fried green tomatoes in front of me, and had to apologize profusely to the homey waitress, who was genuinely concerned with my lack of appetite.

By the time we waddled out of the cafe, our biker friends were long gone, and the weather changed.  It was still sunny, but strong winds were blowing at gale force, and we mentally thanked the giant portions that definitely contributed to us not being blown off the bikes on the way to Oklahoma City.

Oklahoma City

Traumatized with our Galena Motel experience and longing for a proper hot (and hygienic) shower, I scraped together the hotel points, hard-earned over the past dozen years, and booked us a night in the beautiful Skirvin Hilton in Oklahoma City.  In addition to the said hot shower, the hotel also advertised free parking, which cemented the deal in our choice of accommodation for the night.

The hotel was, indeed, beautiful, the parking spacious and free, the room grand and spotlessly clean (which was a welcome change from Galena, and did not necessitate sleeping in our riding gear), and the shower hot.  We were in heaven!

After enjoying the facilities and washing the road off our faces and bodies, we were ready to explore the neighborhood.  A quick walk through downtown, proved Oklahoma City to be a nice and agreeable place, full of wacky sculptures, and a huge botanical garden near our hotel, which was, regretfully, closed.  

The Sidecar Wine Bar

We consoled ourselves with searching out the nearest wine, bar, and promptly landed our asses in the middle of the local party and dining scene in the Sidecar Wine Bar.  The evening was spent nipping into Zinfandel, watching people and life go by, and later in the evening making friends with the locals.  A couple sitting at the bar next to us, somehow gravitated into the orbit of our conversation (or, maybe, we butted into theirs – after 2 bottles of wine, who remembers?…), and provided the entertainment for the evening.  The guy was chubby, puffy, quiet and paid for the drinks that the girl kept steadily ordering.  The girl was beautiful and loud, spending the better half of the evening (the one that was not dedicated to consuming endless cocktails), trying to prove to the surrounding world that she was not trash, achieving the absolutely opposite effect.  Together, they presented an odd couple, and we could not help but wonder what brought them together.  Even after 2 bottles of wine, we were too polite to ask, of course, but having compared notes the following morning, we agreed that they must have been a stripper and a client on an out of work date.  Good for them!

The evening was definitely memorable, and we were proud to have found the way back to the hotel well past midnight.

The following morning did not show much change in weather – it was still pissing down…  We impressed yet another Union Station doorman with our intent to ride out in such conditions, and were on our way, with fond memories of St. Louis and the beautiful hotel in our hearts.  The weather made some corrections to our thoroughly planned route – Interstate 44 was flooded over.  We saw lovely footage on the news of an Interstate bridge under water, and incorporated a detour, getting out of St. Louis through 64 and re-uniting with Route 66 at Ellisville.

Getting out of St. Louis could not have been easier – a straight road led us out of town, and we continued on the way with almost zero visibility.  This was a serious downside.  Generally, one prefers to see the road ahead along with the possible bends, hurdles, as well as other traffic participants.  Deprived of this basic motorists’ right, after riding just 50 miles in such inhumane conditions, we pulled over at the next gas station.  Dry environment with hot coffee were very much needed. 

Trying to thaw our sorry asses, I vaguely remembered riding past what seemed to be a herd of camels on the side of the road.  The camels were numerous, stoic, and were proudly chewing some shit within spitting distance from the traffic. Camels in Missouri?…  What the fuck?…  I shared my observation with Nic, but was met with a blank and mildly worried glance – he did not see anything of a kind.  Well, considering the almost zero visibility, the camels could have been a group of malnourished cows…  Or just a figment of my tired imagination.  I readily agreed with both options, but secretly stuck to my guns – those were camels all right!  A quick Internet search from the dry environment of a hotel several days later proved my point – camel farming was apparently quite popular in the state of Missouri, and several places were offering not only a variety of dairy produce made of camel milk, but also rides and other socializing activities.  Go figure…

But back to the gas station.  Coffee in America generally sucks (unless you are on the West coast, but that’s a whole different story), and the deeper you go into the continent, the less appealing the brew.  Moreover, gas stations employees have never been famous for their barista skills, so you normally don’t hold your breath for anything you get on the way, and appreciate the gas station coffee for what it is – a nondescript brown anti-freeze.  This time it was paired with a much-needed dry factor, and a friendly elderly lady working there, who commiserated with us and even offered some old newspapers to stick in our soaking wet boots in a futile attempt to dry them out.  Human attention and hot coffee helped, but unfortunately, we could not stay at the welcoming gas station forever chatting with the lady about her long-forgotten Irish roots…

The detour added another 120 miles of wet and miserable Missouri roads to our itinerary, but we had no choice but to brave them.  The rain stopped suddenly somewhere around Rolla, Missouri, but was immediately replaced by torrential side winds, threatening to either push us off the road, or under the wheels of gigantic trucks, overtaking us on all sides… Great!..  On the plus side, having first frozen our wet asses almost to the state of those shrunken fish fingers you sometimes find forgotten in the back of the freezer during annual cleanup, the winds then managed to almost dry our gear, so in the end we could not really complain.

Devil’s Elbow

Due to the lovely weather conditions we were forced to miss several sights on our list, but were absolutely intent on stopping by the Devil’s Elbow bridge near the town with a similar name.  The bridge opened in 1923 and served as the river crossing for Route 66 traffic from 1926 to 1943.  The name of the town (and consequently the bridge) came from a nearby bend in the Big Piney River that was so severe it caused massive logjams of railroad ties being floated downriver.  We could witness the jams first-hand, as by the time we reached the bridge, the town was almost swept over by the torrential rains, and piles of debris were stuck in the river bend.  The bridge itself was as picturesque as all the guidebooks promised it to be – with dramatic rain clouds in the backdrop and the storm debris in the fast waters underneath, the bridge stood picture-perfect in all its historic glory.  It looks quite big on the photo, but in reality was a narrow one-way road, and having ridden over it, we could not but marvel at how huge things have become in the modern day – next to the likes of the Astoria-Megler Bridge of similar shape on the West Coast, separated with the Devil’s Elbow by just 40 years, it was but a tiny little baby brother.  We admired the baby bridge, took the obligatory tourist photo, and moved on through the fields and pastures of Missouri.

The stretch of road between Devil’s Elbow and Carthage got remembered by the abundance of pastures, all surrounded by fences with miles-long Bible quotes on them – if only the cows could read!…  They didn’t really seem to mind, and were grazing about with the sanguine looks so typical of the bovine family, without getting overly enlightened.  Although, on second thought, maybe the Bible quotes on the fences made their meat more tender, and the milk more nutritious…  Or just generally more kosher and attractive to the general God-abiding public…

Carthage, MI

The old Courthouse of the town of Carthage was listed in every single Route 66 guide book as a must-see.  2 hours through the Bible fields, and we were there!  It is, apparently, the 2^nd most photographed building in the state of Missouri after the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, and having been at (and photographed) the latter, we were not going to miss out on the 2^nd one!  The town of Carthage also happened to have been the sight of the first land battle of the American Civil War, aptly named “the Battle of Carthage” (my knowledge of American history is not that great – I read this all in a book long after we left the state of Missouri, but thought I’d mention it here for the benefit of others…)

Galena

The plan for that night was to stay in the town of Galena, not known or famous for anything in particular, apart from being the only town in Kansas that Route 66 went through.  Never ones to miss out on the opportunity to add an extra pin to the extensive world map on our wall, boasting places we’ve been to, as well as my personal list of the US states I visited, we were intent on spending the night there.  Despite the visible absence of places to stay, we managed to locate two lodging possibilities with the help of Google Maps and intensive search of the Internet in advance of our visit.  Upon close inspection, one of them turned out to have burned down a long time ago, which narrowed our choice down to one – The Galena Motel (no website, and having stayed at the place we know why…)  The establishment has definitely seen better days, but it being the only lodging option in town, we could not really complain.  I resolved to spending as little time in the room as possible, and sleeping in my clothes when the night-time came.  I still think this was a safe choice.

We threw our stuff into our questionable digs, and went on a walkabout.  After a lot of cheerful smiles, and the upfront payment for the room in cash, the gloomy motel proprietor reluctantly shared dinner recommendations: there was a Pizza hut, and two Mexican restaurants – one good, one bad.  After additional intensive questioning he coughed up the name of the good one – Mi Torito.

The town was easily walkable, with buildings and streets in varied state of decay, but trying its best to keep up the brave front.  Once a busy and prosperous mining community (the name Galena comes from the primary ore mineral of lead), during World War I it was among the largest producers of lead and zinc in the world, and a population close to 15,000.  The closure of the mines and the construction of Interstate 44 that replaced Route 66 as the main thoroughfare resulted in a downward spiral of Galena.  According to the 2000 census it had less than 4,000 inhabitants, and having seen the place up close and personal in 2017, we can bet the numbers must have at least halved over the last 17 years…  The town was fighting back, though – in addition to the Galena Mining & Historical Museum downtown boasted a series of murals and sights, carefully preserving the Route 66 spirit, and telling the story of the town and its people. 

We enjoyed the walk through town (you could literally walk from one side of it to the other in under 20 minutes), in the rays of the setting sun – it was so refreshing to not be drowning in the rain, and the blue sky was a welcome sight! 

The nice early dinner at Mi Torito warmed our stomachs in addition to our hearts, and after 320 miles on the road that day (we only counted those made on the bikes) happy and content we turned in for the night.  In full clothes and socks.