In life, there are some things that you dream about doing, you know, those "someday" schemes. Many refer to them as their "bucket list." I am a reader and have loved reading since I was a very young girl. Ever since reading Jack Kerouac's "On The Road" and "The Grapes of Wrath" when Steinbeck talks about the "Mother Road", Route 66, driving across the wondrous country called the United States of America is something I've always wanted to do.
So, finally an opportunity to do just that, drive across America, sort of dropped into my lap and an idea that had been germinating for years suddenly came to life. I did not do the Kerouac meandering from Atlantic to Pacific oceans across middle America. As a Canadian, I chose to go the border to border route, driving from Canada and onward through to Mexico.
What's your road, man? -- holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
Dipping my toes in Lake Ontario
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Starting my journey in Toronto, I dipped my toes into Lake Ontario, believing that on the trip, I'd be able to dip them into four of the five Great Lakes. Lakes Ontario, Huron and Michigan on the way down south, and Lake Erie on the way home.
Wayne Gretzky Parkway near Brantford, Ontario
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On my way to the border I pondered what I would miss the most about Canada. At the top of the list would surely be hockey. There is a decided lack of hockey coverage on TV in most states, especially the southern ones. So, what's a hockey-mad, Torontonian girl on her way to America's southern border to do?
Curbing the desire to take a quick side trip, get on Gretzky's Parkway and drive, I carried on with my appointed route. It was no time at all before I neared my launching point into the United States at the border between Sarnia, Ontario, Canada and Port Huron, Michigan, USA. I was also nearing my second Great Lake, Huron. Little did I know that when I would get to Lake Huron that I'd be greeted by this:
Ice build-up at southern-most end of Lake Huron, March 2010
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Obviously, no Lake Huron toe-dipping was going to occur! Whatever possessed me to believe that in mid-to-end March the waters of any of these lakes would be openly accessible, I'll never know, so "onward ho!" it was.
Toll booth at US/Canada border, Sarnia, Ontario.
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Bridge @ Sarnia, On / Port Huron, MI.
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Why think about that when all the golden land's ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you're alive to see?, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
Michigan was my first U.S. state with quaint small towns lining my route, all waiting to be seen, as long as the weather cooperated. At the time, it kind of struck me as being a bit ironic that on this first day of Spring in 2010, I found myself driving over Summers Road in mid-Michigan only to see snowflakes gently begin to fall.
Only the day before, had I been basking in 19 degree C (68 degree F) weather and dipping my toes in Lake Ontario and today, a snowstorm! I had left Toronto after 2 and a half weeks of beautiful sunshine (excluding a horrendously wet weekend in the midst of that 2 1/2 week period) and gradually rising temperatures. I was determined to head south in search of even more of those delectable Vitamin D rays and ever increasing temperatures, not less of both.
The wildlife in Michigan appeared to be plentiful and the roads were not overly full of crazy Canadian drivers, so I carried on.
Herd of deer crossing a newly snow laden field in Michigan.
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The most surprising aspect of Michigan was the fact that they have what appears to be a flourishing winery region with several thriving wineries. Quite honestly, I had never heard of wine from Michigan and will have to make a concerted effort to look for some to sample next time I'm at a liquor store.
Dipping my "toes" in Lake Michigan, March 2010.
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Around mid-afternoon, as I neared the shores of Lake Michigan, I girded myself to the possibility of another ice floe fiasco. However, this time, I was greeted by howling winds, two foot waves crashing onto the beach, sand blowing all over the place, and freezing temps. Under no circumstances was I taking my shoes and socks off for a dip in the lake so quite frankly, this will just have to do:
Waves crashing the beach on Lake Michigan, March 2010.
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At this point, I suddenly realized that I was on the border of Illinois, and had actually been driving through the state of Indiana without realizing it. I had sort of skirted across the top of it in less than an hour and resolved that on my return trip, I would pay closer attention to the state.
After dipping my shoe in Lake Michigan, I carried on through to Illinois, lots of concrete and pavement surrounding Chicago, so I headed south through the flat lands, in search of a place to stay for the night. As I tweeted that day: "Just where the 'ef is Effingham?" Look it up! I asked the lady at the front desk of the Motel I was staying in for directions to the nearest Truck Stop (they serve what I call "simple" food, easy to eat) and then off I went, ate my supper with road-weary truckers, all of our eyes glued to the television, catching up with March Madness basketball.
The most surprising discovery that I made about the state of Illinois was that people drill for oil there. I was expecting that in Oklahoma, Texas and perhaps even New Mexico, but Illinois?
Illinois is also the state with tons of roadside signage, one of the more clever ones I saw was a two parter; a stark black writing on a white background, the first one said: "If you're looking for peace ..." and the second one: "... Better prepare for war!" And evidence of war preparations were everywhere, as far as I could see.
Military train carrying trucks ready for war.
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The next morning, I started my day with more rain and drove toward the beautiful city of St. Louis, Missouri.
Welcoming Arch in St. Louis, MI.
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St. Louis is a very widely spread out city that has an excellent ground transportation network, if only there was not so much construction! Got turned about a few times, but was able to see Busch Stadium and finally locate a Starbucks I'd pegged on the map before leaving, an absolute must for a latte loving sort like me.
Busch Stadium, St. Louis, MI
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Whilst looking for the above mentioned Starbucks, driving along Olive Street, I was scanning back and forth for that familiar green when I saw that Missourans preferred their coffee shops in brown.
"Brown" Starbucks in St. Louis, Missouri.
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The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
And so, on the second day of Spring, I carried on through Missouri in my rain/sleet/snow battered car through a late-Winter/early-Spring storm that sent cars (and I'm talking many, many cars) and even transport trucks careening off the roads.
View out my passenger window driving through Missouri, March 2010.
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The most surprising thing that I discovered about Missouri, even though it was pouring rain with sheets of sleet coming at me for most of my trip, was that the countryside was absolutely beautiful. The scenery was incredible, rolling hills and forests abounded, and it kind of reminded me of the Eastern Townships in Quebec. Another fascinating fact was the number of Hospitals I saw there ... hmmm perhaps Missouri is a state with mandatory health coverage? Something to look into.
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As I thought when I took off on this border to border journey, it was reminiscent of Steinbeck's Mother Road and at long last, I finally got to meander down the famous highway when I arrived in historic Cuba. What you may be saying, is Route 66 doing in Cuba? Well, it was in historic Cuba, Missouri where I finally linked up with Route 66 and was able to follow it's winding path for many many miles.
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It was at this point that I wished I was driving a convertible, with the top down wind blowing through my hair ... Oh wait, that's right, it's freezing rain out right now and I don't have any hair to speak of so scratch that part of the dream!
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
As the day grew late, I approached my next destination, Oklahoma City. Although I'd been travelling through dark skies and storms for most of the past two days, as I approached OC, it was as if Mother Nature knew I was coming and the skies cleared up for what was to be the highlight and the most poignant moments of my trip.
I decided to make the trip downtown to where the Alfred P. Murrah Building once stood, that was before domestic terrorist Timothy McVeigh blew it to smithereens that awful day fifteen years ago in April, 1995.
West Entrance to Alfred P. Murrah Site, Oklahoma City.
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As I approached the site, a makeshift memorial appeared before me, attached to the chain link fence were small tokens, pictures, license plates, etc. Every 30 days or so, all items (excluding the ones left by family members) are removed. I read somewhere that over the years, there have been close to 60,000 items left on this fence, all saved and preserved at the Memorial Museum.
Fence surrounding Oklahoma City Memorial site.
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I stopped, parked the car and got out looking around and trying to take in the scene that presented itself to me. All around I could feel a sense of sadness in the air. Across the street from where I stood, on the site where St. Josephs Catholic Church's Parish House stood before the bombing, was a beautiful memorial entitled "And Jesus Wept."
You don't die enough to cry, Jack Kerouac from On the Road.
And Jesus Wept, Oklahoma City.
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And Jesus Wept, Oklahoma City Memorial.
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A statue of Jesus stood before me with his back to the bombing site, head bowed down and held in his hands, weeping for those affected by the tragedy. The statue faces a granite wall in which 171 niches are carved, each niche representing a person known to have been killed that fateful day and the three unborn children that were also killed.
Passing through the Gates of Time that frame the infamous site, (the bomb went off at 9:02 a.m. on April 19th and the East gate represents 9:01, the West one represents 9:03) a glimmering Reflecting Pool, which covers the area where Fifth Street used to be located, lies in between.
9:01 am east gate at Oklahoma City Memorial.
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9:03 am west gate at Oklahoma City Memorial.
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Off to one side is the Survivor Tree and off to the other is the Field of Empty Chairs. The Field of Empty Chairs, an awesome yet awful site to behold. There are large chairs which represent all of the adults who were killed and then there are the smaller chairs, depicting each of the nineteen children killed that day.
Field of Empty Chairs, Oklahoma City.
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There are nine rows of chairs, representing the nine floors of the Murrah building. Each chair was placed in the row and represents the floor each individual was on at the time the bomb went off. There are five chairs at the western-most part of the field that represent the five people who were killed but were not in the building at the time of the bombing.
Each chair seat is made of glass and has a person's name etched onto it. Every night at dusk, the chairs (and the archways) light up. At the very eastern-most end of the Memorial the only surviving wall from the Murrah Building stands and on it, more than 600 names are inscribed, identifying all those who survived the bombing.
Field of Empty Chairs with names etched on each one, Oklahoma City.
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Symbolism is huge at this site, from the pieces of reclaimed granite that line the walkways to the promontory surrounding the Survivor Tree. Each year, nursery's all around Oklahoma receive cuttings and seeds from the 80-year-old American Elm that withstood the blast. Today, it is reported that "
thousands of of Survivor Trees are growing in public and private places all over the United States."
Survivor Tree, Oklahoma City.
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Survivor Wall, Oklahoma City.
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Reflecting Pool, Oklahoma City.
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That night, while dining at a local restaurant, I was shown the true faith of Americans, and saw a couple, after their soup was delivered to their table by the wait staff, they joined hands and said grace, in a public restaurant. As the inscription around the Survivor Tree says "
The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us.”
On the third day, I woke to beautiful blue skies and ever warming temperatures. Finally, what I had been searching for. I took off, heading toward the very top of Texas and then on through to New Mexico. I always knew that New Mexico was an artistic, free spirit kind of place and when I stopped at the Welcome Center, all my thoughts were confirmed when I saw this:
The peacock and the cat, Welcome Center, New Mexico.
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What would a trip to New Mexico be without going to see Roswell? And, I might add, some excellent coffee was procured to boot!
UFO Museum, Rosell, New Mexico.
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Signage at "Not of this World" espresso joint in Roswell, New Mexico.
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Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached heaven, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
Some of the stranger things I saw? Still trying to figure out this one from Oklahoma, ideas anyone?
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Or, if you are really into "fried pies", Oklahoma is where it's at! Somehow, and quite honestly I can't understand why as McDonald's continually advertised along the highway, you can apparently buy "
Happiness for a $1." All you have to do is purchase a 32 oz drink for a dollar! I could only think that only equates to happiness for Mickie D's because certainly you'd be forced to stop at the next one you see along the road, just to relieve yourself of that 32 oz, $1 drink!
Maybe I have a more salacious imagination than most, but I am still trying to figure out if this sign meant there was a gas station/snack stop ahead or perhaps a bawdy house:
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How 'bout seeing something like this, does it make you want to stay the night in this motel?:
Quirky rodside sign near Amarillo, Texas.
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Of course, there's always Amarillo's stonehenge of cadillac's:
Cadillac "Stonehenge", Amarillo,TX.
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Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached heaven, Jack Kerouac, On the Road.
And so it seemed fitting for this trip, that on the final day of my odyssey across America, I would arrive in the southern Arizonan desert, in the rain.
Rain over the Catalina Mountains and Arizona desert.
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And at long last, there it was, the crossing over to Mexico in the small town of Douglas, AZ and my journey's final destination.
Douglas, AZ border with Mexico.
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Unbelievable as it may seem, somehow I was able to drive the 3,500 km. or so in three and a half days (3 hours time change included, so really 4 days) without ever getting a speeding ticket! I had wonderful time, saw many sites, met many wonderful people, and finally was able to actually finish one of my dreams.
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