Waning Gibbous Moon
I’m playing catch-up here after spending yesterday asleep in Room 50 of Ken’s Motel in Aurora NE. Ken’s is the nicest, cheapest, quietest motel ever. I love that place. Outside it was like 99 billion degrees and I totally dodged consciousness for a day in my ice cold AC refuge. Thank you, Ken.
Aurora is one of a series of towns I have enjoyed along Hwy 34. It has a sweet little town square with one of those classic county courthouses and the no nonsense Grandview Bar & Grill. Free advice: if you want breakfast, get there before 10 a.m. After 10, you can’t even get coffee. Coffee ain’t on the lunch menu and if you want some, tough noogies.
Aurora also has a couple of nice parks. This is Cole Park on the west end of town.
On the previous day, I passed through Bradshaw NE, where I met Lloyd, who strongly suggested I hightail it down to the railroad tracks and catch a burger at the Bulldog Roadhouse. And I did, a completely scrumptious jalepeno burger with fries dirt cheap.
The folks in the Bulldog Roadhouse treated me like I was kin. In five minutes I learned all the skinny on who the deadbeats were in town and who was alright. By all accounts, Lloyd is a walking saint.
By chance, I met another cross country walker, Martin from Switzerland. Martin is a nice, smart young teacher/social worker who has also walked the Camino de Santiago.
He said he had been reading this blog, and since his young buck pace is much faster than my old dude stroll, he knew he would overtake me soon. We had a nice conversation at Ken’s Motel where perchance he was staying two doors down from me. An international serendipitous coincidence!
If you would like to read about Martin’s journey, you can follow him here:
This morning, as I was leaving Aurora on my way to Grand Island NE, a nice couple intercepted me near a parking lot of a business on Hwy 34. They were Steve and Pat Martin from Kentucky, on their way up to Canada on a driving tour.
Steve crossed the US on foot in 2014 as part of the Great Climate March that received quite a bit of press where I live. It was fun to meet both of them. I could sense Steve’s lasting enjoyment of and pride in his experience. Pat took a picture of the two walking gents.
Steve also has a web site from his Climate March across the country. He hopes to one day write a book about his travels.
The rest of the day was windblown cornfield after windblown cornfield for 19 miles into Grand Island.
Legend has it that Grand Island used to be surrounded by water supplied by the Platte River and a couple of other lesser waterways. But dang if the crazy busy Europioneer freaking nature-tamers didn’t engineer the island out of existence. Those nutty engineers!
This place is still Grand, though, even if it isn’t an island. Try Pam’s Pub and Grub on Locust Street. The cherry pie is Grandioso.
Peace, Love, and All Caught Up,