Indeed it was easy, as last night's camp was only a few miles from the Archives building. Fearing rush-hour traffic, we took our time getting out of camp this morning. So by the time we had left camp, gassed up the rig, and headed downtown, traffic was not an issue at all.
In fact, we had feared that the location of the Library and Archives building in what we thought would be the downtown area would preclude the parking of our RV. But as the GPS directed us to the streets leading to our target address, we began to see that the Library and Archives location was out in the country. In short order we found the parking lot, parked the rig, and began looking for the entrance. On all sides of the building much of the parking spaces were vacant.
When we finally found the door after making a 300 degree clockwise circle around the building, we entered to find an older security guard who greeted us in the typical Kentucky-friendly fashion. He did ask that we leave my genealogy notebook and, of all things, my hat outside the library when I went in to talk to the librarians. "Too many things going missing," he said. "We're just being cautious."
Once in the library, I was greeted at the front desk by a cheerful redhead who asked me to brief her on the search I intended to make. When I told her I needed to know just one thing today, who might be the parents of my great, great grandfather John Heath Preston Jones who was born in Louisville in 1811, she immediately looked apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said, "but our birth records begin with the year 1858."
"Ah," I said. "I was afraid of that."
"Perhaps on the census," she began, but then stopped short. "Well, I guess the early census documents don't include that information."
"No," I told her. "Births were most often recorded at the family's church. I don't suppose you have those records here."
She shook her head, and got up from her desk to come around to my side of the counter. "Some births can be found at the Historical Society," she said. She reached down and pulled a pamphlet off a nearby rack and handed it to me. "The only problem is that they're not open until Wednesday."
Concetta and I said goodbye to the friendly guard and wished him good luck in the pursuit of the police force job he had told us about, then we walked back up the hill toward the rig. I was disappointed for sure, but not very surprised. Pursuing information on someone who was born more than 200 years ago is never easy, and sometimes it's just flat impossible. But I don't intend to give up, not by a long shot.
Leaving the Frankfort Kentucky area was easy enough, and soon we were motoring north in the general direction of Louisville. We didn't intend to actually drive through Louisville, as that wouldn't be pleasant, but we intended to cross the Ohio River further to the east at the Indiana town of Madison. Photos two and three here are taken at our lunch spot on the Kentucky side of the river crossing to Madison.
After re-provisioning at the Madison Walmart (which is well north of the cute part of town), we hit the road for the town of Columbus, Indiana, where we had found a nice-sounding camp. Here began one of our more strange and exasperating afternoons.
The first thing that happened as we motored north out of Madison was when we came upon a "Road Closed 10 Miles Ahead" sign that decorated our route to Columbus. Okay, we said, we'll just take the detour. But after we took the short detour, our GPS insisted that we keep following a non-existent detour route west instead of rejoining Route 7 north.
With the GPS shouting at us to "Make a U-Turn," I instead headed northeast on Route 3 that, according to the map, rejoined our original Route 7 at the appropriate point to avoid the construction. Not sure where the GPS would have had us go, I chose to just ignore her and move on.
Then, as we got close to Columbus, Concetta programed the GPS to take us to the camp supposedly located there. But the silly thing insisted that we turn around and head south in very nearly the same direction we had just come. It was complete pandemonium by now as I came dangerously close to tossing the fricking GPS out the window.
It didn't help that it was past 4:00 p.m., rush hour traffic AND road construction were beginning to hamper our progress, and yours truly was getting pretty hot even with the air conditioning on.
In the end we stopped to consult the KOA book to see if they had a camp somewhere nearby and luckily we found one in the unlikely town of Nashville, Indiana. The camp was supposed to be less than 25 miles east of Columbus. At that point we put away both squawking GPS unit, and I just navigated by map and by the seat of my pants. I have NEVER completely trusted ANY GPS unit and obviously today was not technology's finest hour.
So here we are in a very nice camp in Nashville. It was a tad on the pricey side, but I don't care a fig. The site was level, the utilities easy to access, and I still was able to enjoy a decent cocktail hour in spite of all the exasperation.
Tomorrow we're not sure whether to go northwest toward Terre Haute or southwest toward Vincennes. Each offer things to see that sound interesting, and each route us more or less toward St. Louis when we leave them. Not sure I would like to end up in St. Louis for any reason, but perhaps we can find a way to skirt the city somehow, whichever one we choose.
And when you head out on the two-lanes, be sure and take an up-to-date atlas and preserve your sanity. And while you're doing that, The Happy Wanderers wish you happy travels and exciting destinations.
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