Eighty on I-80, Part 1

Hello all, it's not quite the weekend, but I don't think I'll be posting over the weekend. So here we go!

With school around the corner, I haven't been able to delay on a decision any longer. Except I still kind of am. Graduate school is a heck of an investment, but the jobs that I'm interested in pursuing would not be attainable without a professional degree. Even so, I'm doing what I can to drive the costs down. I'm still waiting on a few things, but I'm running out the days as I sprint across the country.

So to all my friends in Hawaii, I miss you all already!

To all my friends in Colorado, I'm sorry to have missed you these last couple of days as I've been plotting out trip stops and shopping for yet another 1200 mile road trip. Because what kind of summer would it be if I didn't travel 10,000+ miles? This time I'm ripping eastward from Denver.

Packing up this morning, I said good-bye to my father and brother at our old house in Colorado (which is a freaky story in and of itself) and ran down to I-70 before boarding I-76 for the long haul out of Colorado. Once you get out of the Denver cityscape, the plains get, well, plain. There's not a whole lot to see out east.

I've driven to California from Colorado/New Mexico multiple times and the corridors through the American Southwest are breathtaking--every rest stop is an overlook into a dramatic canyon or sprawling desert brush. Painted Desert, Sonoran Desert, Monument Valley. I mean, stunning. Middle America is very much about farmland--be them corn or cows; which I have no problem with, but I predict another 400 miles of plain plains.

Denver to York, Nebraska is about 430 miles on an I-76 to I-80 route. The interstate dances with the Platte River in crossings north to south and back again several times. You'll mostly share the road with semis and other wanderlust-ridden adventurers. I got caught in five or six construction areas which slowed the 75 mph hurtle to 55. Nothing too awful, but it does take a bite out of time when you're running a 400-mile (6-7 hr) day.

Lunch in Colorado at Julesburg.

Since I'm rolling on my own, I have to entertain myself--either by belting out to my favorite songs or counting how many semis I pass. Today, I ate on the Coloradoan border of Julesburg and passed into Nebraska in some surprise I was already out of the first state in line.

I stopped off at a rest stop in mid-Nebraska (Cozad) and chatted with the tourist guide there who told me a little about Nebraska's history. Carol pointed out the pioneers' trail to the south of the Platte and the Mormon trail north of it. The Cheyenne Indians weren't too happy about the pioneer expansion and a tribe of them attacked a caravan near Cozad as well as the trains that were coming through. Lots of death and fighting over Nebraska.

The Cozad rest stop off I-80 E, Nebraska.

I have a deep love of maps and I'll pore over them every chance I get. Especially in transit. This map positioned outside of the rest stop building indicates where we are along I-80.

When I mentioned I was surprised at all the lakes I'd been passing since crossing the stateline, Carol also told me Nebraska sits on the Ogallala aquifer--the high water table is perfect for irrigation and farming. Makes a lot of sense. Armed with this knowledge, Nebraska became a little more than a flat stretch of cornhusk.

The Great Platte River Road Archway near Kearney, Nebraska, I loved the metal-worked wings.

I hurtled quickly through the thick waist of Nebraska until I reached York and its blessed hot air balloon signaling I was done for the day.

The Yorkshire Motel had rooms available and I booked a $57 'basement' room that included free wifi and a continental breakfast. My staples for most of my travels. The motel clerks, whom I assumed were a husband and wife (owners), told me if I skipped over to The Kitchen and flashed my room key, I would get 15% off my meal. Sweet! They handed me a menu and I settled on the chicken tenders.

Unloading and checking the vehicle fluid levels (since it hasn't been driven in awhile and my family and I had had problems the day just prior to leaving), I lugged my things down to the room and rested about an hour before surfacing to eat.

The colorful mural outside my basement bedroom window of the Yorkshire Motel in York, NE.

The Kitchen had a contemplative menu with plenty of bang for your buck delights. I did order the chicken tenders and ate one of the four, intending to save the remainder for a cold lunch tomorrow. I had a lovely salad, vegetables and mashed potatoes with a great biscuit gravy. All very good!

A storm rolled in during the evening and shut off the power briefly, I worried my car would suffer hail damage, but it got a shower instead which sluiced a number of bug casualties from the front. Works for me.

Tomorrow, Iowa and Illinois.

Rapids vs. Whitecaps

Hello all, it's the weekend!

Yes, I apologize for the hideous delay in posting this, but this summer has been a hurricane inside a tornado beneath an impending tidal wave. And I'm in the center of all that...somewhere. It's been nonstop.

So several weeks ago in late June (which the date will reflect, even though I'm writing this mid-July), my dear former journalism professor at my final degree-issuing college for undergrad offered to catch the Colorado Rapids game against Vancouver's Whitecaps. 

My ticket to the game!

    

I am absolutely one of those geeks who guns to befriend teachers who have a particularly meaningful impact on my life, even if I feel like I can never 'repay' them for their caring and guidance. (I actually had the pleasure of playing tour guide for this professor and another journalism professor of mine when they came to Hawaii for a conference. Talk about planets aligning. I may have come close to that payback running them both into the ground with my style of typhoon touring.)

Shaun, the man I still refer to as my professor in certain circles and whom I will forever look to as a mentor, invited me to this soccer game for a warm Saturday evening, June 28. This would be the second game we've attended together in non-consecutive summers as I flit in and out of the state between escapades. 

I don't follow soccer. I don't really follow sports in general because I get all bothered that I'm not dribbling, spiking, lobbing, another verb-ing the ball in question around. Sure, I'll watch the Superbowl as much for the ads as the game and I did witness the FIFA U.S. vs. Belgium match in Tommyknocker Brewery in Idaho Springs. Congrats Germany and better luck next cup, U.S. The short of it is I would rather play than spectate. (But there's no way I could keep up with the gents on the soccer field. No way.)

Shaun was extremely patient with me both games when I asked questions about a play or call I didn't understand--always the teacher even outside of school. I learned any errantly kicked soccer balls had to be returned. Sitting down by the goal, I seriously wanted to have a ball kicked at me. What a rush!--but no such luck this time around.

I drove to Dick's Sporting Goods Park out in Stapleton, a growing suburb of Denver's eastern side, and met up with Shaun and a former classmate of mine from my beginning reporting class. Which feels like ages ago in retrospect. He and I have a similar school-jumping history; although he easily outranks me for higher education institutions, I might have him if we count preschool onward. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we were happy to wedge Shaun between us for the game. (I apologize Joe if I chatted Shaun's ear off at your expense.)

Shaun came up all smiles because he not only delivered a game ticket, but vouchers for a baseball cap and beer! WOO! I'm still growing on beer or it's growing on me, but I drained what I was allotted and sat subsequently buzzed the rest of the game. (Altitude, cut me some slack.) Shaun, knowing my propensity to eat little but hunger large, checked in often as stadium foods floated by, but having dipped into his fries (without shame) I felt fine. Buzzed, but fine. Nothing quite says you've arrived when you can sit and have a beer with your professor, you know? I don't normally wear hats either because I strongly believe there is some fundamental fault in the shape of my head, but I did this time! In any case, I felt spoiled all around.

As I recall, the Rapids scored an early goal and then again in the second half of the game. They went on to win the match. The Whitecaps kept the pressure on for the first half--a lot of action on our side of the field with several near goals for the opposing team, but I could see the Canadians struggling in the second half. Again, altitude, for which I could empathize. I jumped out of my seat several times when the Whitecaps ran the ball to our side of the field and then again whenever the Rapids scored. Their victory jam is just so darn catchy. 

It was a fun game and Shaun's soccer fever infectious. I was happy to see the Rapids win on their home turf. Better luck next time, Canada. 

--Shaun, thank you for your boundless generosity! I always look forward to seeing you whenever I visit and writing it out leaves no question why. I had a blast!!

Happy Saturday.