"I'm wandering down to the banks of the great big muddy, where the shotgun houses stand" -- the words are Mary Chapin Carpenter's, one of my very favorite singers and song writers. I used them here because we spent most of the day cruising the east bank of the "Great Big Muddy," otherwise known as the Missouri, just watching the beautiful green hills and dales roll by. We're closing in on Atchison County, Missouri, where my 2 times great grandfather, John Daley, was living in 1850, a fact that had somehow escaped everyone else who claims him in Ancestry.com for their personal trees, but one that I miraculously came up with last month.
The weird thing is, in the 1850 census for Atchison County the spelling of John's last name is "Dailey," which is why everyone else missed him. What gave it away was John had two women living with him, his wife Eliza, and his deceased brother's wife, Favoretta. John would later go on to name one of his daughters Favoretta.
But there's another perplexing problem with the 1850 Atchison County, Missouri, census -- there's no town or township listed. This makes it very, very hard to determine where in the county they were living. From my research I know that there were hardly any towns in the whole county in this time period, so my goal is to find the two or three oldest towns and maybe visit the town museums or libraries and try and narrow down my choices. I'd also like to wander through a few cemeteries if any exist.
Anyway, that's what we're doing here in Missouri. Last night we spent the evening with my long, lost buddy from my Naval Air Corp days, Thom C. He and I were roommates for a couple of years before we both mustered out in the summer of 1972. I've been sending Thom and his family Christmas letters virtually all the time we've been apart, but this is the first time we've been together in 44 years. It was just great! It was even nicer since Concetta and Thom's wife, Sally, hit it off right away and the four of us did a night on the town in Lawrence, Kansas.
Thom and Sally invited us to stay at their place but we begged off and asked if they minded if we stayed in the rig in the nearby state park. It was only a ten minute drive from their place and it allowed us to sleep in our own bed and not have to gather up things to move into their guest room, which almost always means we make endless trips, back and forth to the rig to get something we forgot. Then, when we leave we almost always forget a couple of items.
Anyway, our hosts were cool with us staying in the nearby park and they drove over after we'd had our showers and picked us up for dinner. After an extensive tour, both driving and walking, of their lovely college town of Lawrence, they took us to one of their favorite restaurants, which had a very eclectic menu. I had ravioli with a cauliflower filling and a light cream asparagus sauce, and Concetta had the Bison Burger and a side of asparagus.
After dinner we retreated to their very lovely house east of Lawrence and were offered a selection of Scotch. By the time 11:00 p.m. was approaching we were all very jovial and talkative. We even touched on politics, though with a great deal of caution. I scolded myself for forgetting to take my camera along, but such is life. We all had a simply wonderful evening.
This morning we set off for northwestern Missouri, but not before stopping on the Kansas side of the Big Muddy to tour the Amelia Earhart birthplace in the wonderful old town of Atchison. The house was built in 1860 and was actually the home of Amelia's grandparents. At the point in time when Amelia's mother, Amy was pregnant, the grandparents insisted that she come live with them until the baby (Amelia) arrived. The year was 1897.
The museum was a bit of a challenge since it sits atop a bluff overlooking the Missouri and the vintage brick street on which it fronts is about 14 feet wide. Parking (of very small cars) is allowed on only one side of the street, the side away from the bluff. Fortunately, I was able to squeeze the rig into an empty stretch of curb just to the north of the house and hoped that no large trucks would need to squeeze through. Then, when it was time to leave, I had to back up into the tiny street in front of the Earhart house, between the curb and the small cars, so that I could turn and go back down the hill the way I had come. There was no retreating in any other direction.
Let me just say, if you're ever in Atchison, Kansas, north of Kansas City, you should try and visit the Earhart Museum. The house is just simply wonderful, it's packed so full of Ameila memorabilia. Everything from newspaper clippings and photographs, to baby clothes and family furniture are wonderfully displayed there. AND, the docents don't seem to feel the need to nervously follow you around to make sure you don't touch anything. I even put one newspaper page (suitably encased in plastic, of course) on the carpeted floor so I could shoot it better.
The other attraction that I saw in Atchison -- and unfortunately I didn't try do any photographs -- was all the magnificent old mansions that we saw in the the original, very opulent part of town. Many, many of the grand old houses on the bluff near the Earhart house (see photo left) were in wonderful shape, sat beneath spreading century-old trees, and were just begging to be appreciated. Unfortunately, we would have had to find a level place to park the rig and then walk for the rest of the afternoon. It took us a full 15 minutes just to find a level place to eat lunch, and that turned out to be the parking lot for the Catholic Church. Still, I'd like to come back someday and spend an entire day just photographing those terrific Grand Dames.
After leaving Atchison, we crossed the River on Route 59 (photo right), and then headed up the east bank of the Missouri. We weren't sure just exactly how far we would get, but we were finding a complete dearth of campground choices anywhere short of Rock Port. Nothing in the KOA booket, and the Good Sam booklet had only one, which with some difficulty we were able to find at the end of a complicated series of roads amidst the rain-soaked fields just south of Mound City, Missouri.
Yes, it was some trouble to find the place, called "Big Lake Camp," but oh wow! When we finally did roll in, we discovered that there was only ONE other camper in the entire complex, and he had gone off somewhere in his pickup truck and left his fifth wheel behind. Of course there is a camp host here, a disabled veteran and his wife in a motor home about twice the size of ours. We had a nice chat with them when they rolled up in their golf cart to collect the $21.00 fee. I must warn you that only electric is available in the sites, which means no water and convenient sewer. We'll have to use the dump station when we leave. Still, we can't believe the peace and quite here. I think you could easily hear ice cubes clinking into cocktail glasses from five camps away.
After Concetta and I had paid our fee, we locked up the RV and set off to get a few steps on the ol' pedometer. We walked clear from one end of the camp to the other and the only living creatures we saw were a couple of woodpeckers. However, as we passed the camp hosts' rig the Vet hastened over to show me his IPhone. There on the tiny screen he pointed to a graphic representation of an incoming storm. "Great," we thought. "Just what we need, more rain!"
We did manage to get back to the rig before the sky opened up and dumped what would be a year's supply of rain for Nevada in a single, two-hour deluge. No matter, the pelting made nice company for our dinner. Now the rain has let up, the camp looks like the miniature lakes all around us may sink in or run off by morning, and we should be able move out to Rock Port, our intended destination tomorrow, and maybe for a day after that. AND, if we can't find a good camp tomorrow night, we'll just come on back here. I know there will be spaces.
So, until we have more adventures to write about, we wish you Happy Travels!
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