Unwelcome Centers

As you pass by state borders and important metropolitan areas in any given state, you often see blue signs touting "Tourist Information." If you get lucky, you also see brown signs promising "Welcome Centers" at the next exit. If you've never been to one of these centers, clearinghouses for tourist information across the state, chances are you're missing out on that one unique museum or scenic byway that could turn a good trip into a great one.

States that operate these centers do so using a variety of different methods. I can write fairly knowledgeably about Welcome Centers in Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Missouri, Utah, and Nevada, but nearly every state's tourism bureau uses some kind of similar mechanism to market its various travel opportunities. They do this with a varying degree of success.

I feel spoiled here in Colorado. So far I have traveled to the Welcome Center in Julesburg (NE), Fort Collins (N), Lamar (SE), Burlington (E), and Morrison (Central). Our Welcome Centers are paired with either a Chamber of Commerce or some nonprofit museum or education center, a practice also used by Utah. This has a dual purpose. One, it's cheaper for the state's tourism office to partner with some other community endeavor; and two, it makes the staff or volunteers feel more invested in getting tourists to enjoy a wide variety of experiences. In Colorado, volunteers usually greet you upon walking in the door, offer coffee, direct you to the restrooms, and guide you to numerous walls of brochure upon brochure. They are happy to talk about the different kinds of people they see all day and take the time to ask what travel experiences you are interested in having. The decor even matches the history of the local area.

In Utah they give directions and offer hunting and camping advice, and compare the various merits of nearby states with a touch of competitiveness, but mostly as a way of contrasting different states' guides and funding. If a site isn't receiving its due attention, they will lament it as a treasure not to be missed even though more glamorous or popular options steal away the tourists.

In Nevada's nondescript, solitary outposts (those that haven't closed, anyway), the staff will stay behind the desk, greet no one, yell at you for taking "hard to find" brochures (whatever that means), glare at you for using the restroom, and offer nothing by way of amenities or conversation. Decor tends away from informative and interesting crafts or exhibits and towards signs prohibiting many of the same activities the other states encourage. And why is this? Because Las Vegas, and chiefly casino interests, dictate what does and does not get promoted.

Bitter? Maybe. But it's because I care about how tourism is marketed. Sure, it benefits Colorado if the people in Nevada don't make a convincing case for actually wanting to travel the state beyond Las Vegas. Gambling revenues, home prices, and nearly everything else indicating the health of the Las Vegas area has declined and shows no signs of stopping. This is natural, of course; the economy contracts, making people less inclined to blow their paychecks at the blackjack tables. Taxable revenue statewide was down by more than 10% in the last year. While this is utterly predictable, this is also not good; Nevada is one of the states most dependent on tourism revenue. It lives and dies by how other people view it, and enhancing the pragmatic view that Nevada is a big fat waste of money is only going to hurt it more.

So why so unfriendly, Nevada? Why allow a limping industry to dictate the whole of its tourist strategy? Even worse, ticking off one tourist results in blog posts like this and spread bad word-of-mouth. Now, I had a good time in Vegas, even though it was a costly trip. I believe I got my money's worth. If I were finance-conscious, however, I'd be interested not just in Vegas's casinos, but in its poorly-marketed inexpensive options. While the Welcome Center staff accused me of not looking for the museums and non-casino options, of all people I should be noticing that stuff if it's at all publicized - and the average group staying in the Strip would be hard-pressed to find a mention of anything other than $30/person private exhibits run by casinos and resorts. State-run institutions? After poring through walls of brochures touting gambling, Star Trek, and Cher, I found a few things located on the old Strip that the average visitor would never even come close to seeing.

Why is this important? Other than allowing tourists to get a more varied experience, tourists who feel as though they're getting value for their trip spend more than tourists who grow resentful of Vegas prices and the private casino emphasis on glitz as opposed to substance. A knowledgeable Department of Tourism kiosk in the Strip, as opposed to the glorified casino boosters who currently run the show, would go a long way towards boosting tourist economy statewide and halting the decline that comes from putting all your eggs in one basket. Even in this contracting economy, Colorado's tourism economy is skyrocketing, and it is due in large part to our ability to get people to see a wide variety of activities as worthwhile. And in turn, they spend more money than if we depended on the skiing industry to see us through the drought years.

This is all fairly pie-in-the-sky, as the current arrangement in Nevada indicates that the casino industry is more important than the interests of everyone else in the state. One visit to a decently- and politely-staffed center can turn a quick Vegas jaunt into a more lucrative tour of Nevada history. It can change someone's view of the state radically - which is why I'll be visiting Utah again, even though I had no plans to do anything other than drive through. And I suppose that Nevada has changed my view of the state, but unfortunately not for the better.

More Oregon Trail Goodness!

I swear I did not intend to capture a Wal-Mart truck going underneath the Platte River Archway Monument, but I'm glad I did. They have twin approaches to culture, in a way. The Monument isn't, well, inaccurate, but it does consciously appeal to the element that is oversaturated with accessible histories and unwilling to seek anything out for themselves.



However, it does fill a vital need. That's our culture, like it or not, and at least when the kids pile out of the SUV, go to the snack bar and wash down their ADD medication, and load into the Trails equivalent of It's A Small World, they're still getting a dose of history. They're getting something. It also appeals to logistics. The Overland Trails sites, by and large, are not accessible or feasible for the disabled, for people with small children. Sure, there are a few ramps here and there; but often, there aren't even roads graded for sedans. Going along the Trail is also an expensive undertaking, even if you camp out in your car every night. Wal-Mart recognizes that not everyone can go to the local market and dress in environmentall-friendly non-sweatshop clothing. The Monument recognizes that the basic important element here is the basic history, not "authenticity." They're not trying to supplant the experience of standing in the Guernsey Ruts or exploring Alcove Springs. They're trying to make it fun, and judging by the enthusiasm of most of the visitors there, they've succeeded.



I would more harshly criticize the Monument if it made no effort to try to whet its visitors' curiosity. To be sure, some of the elements had me scratching my head. The music on the lead-in walkway is public-domain Christmas carols with the lyrics changed to reflect Trails life. I did not need to hear "Away on the (pause) range, with buffalo there, the little pioneer girl lay down her sweet head..." at any time in my life. But they do try to get people to visit the Trails sites, and music aside, this is probably the best way to get kids interested in the ancestry of the West.

Just west of Kearney, the Dawson County Historical Museum in Lexington, NE, has everything from paleontology to modern history - and that, of course, includes the Overland Trails. Unfortunately, when I was there they were setting up for the summer season with a nice and HUGE expansion. But they were nice enough to let me in anyway.



A spot near Lexington called Plum Creek is the site of one of the more famous massacres on the Overland Trails. On August 8, 1864, a group of Cheyenne dog soldiers attacked a wagon train and killed 13, then took 2 women hostage. One went insane from the experience and died soon after her ransom; the other, 19-year-old Nancy Morton, would write about her experience and lecture to avid crowds. One ardent follower was a man named John Chivington, who months later would attack a peaceful and government-protected band of Cheyenne and Arapaho on the Sand Creek Massacre.

Now for something unrelated: Apologies for the crappy photo, but Pioneer Village in Minden, NE, has a virtuoso. What is a virtuoso, you ask? Well, often when a museum just collects a whole bunch of crap and shoves it all into fifty thousand exhibit cases, odds are they'll get an automated nightmare of classical music. I didn't bother to find out what this one plays because even if it were playable I guarantee it would be out of tune. The SECOND I stepped into Pioneer Village I knew they had to have a virtuoso, and I found this one in about the fifth building I searched. Because, you see, I've been to the House on the Rock. And they have about fifty horribly out-of-tune virtuosos, some with thirty out-of-tune instruments on them, playing everything from horribly out-of-tune "Bolero" to horribly out of tune "Under the Sea" (that one has a flaking twenty-foot ceramic octopus "playing" eight instruments!). They all sound like someone took the soul of a drum machine and jammed it into Jack Benny's left nostril. You can insert a coin and hear them all until your ears bleed and all you want to do is kill yourself.

Anyway, so Pioneer Village has one.



So yeah, that.

Support Your Local Society

One of the cool things about belonging to your state's historical society is that sometimes it offers tours of local landmarks. Oh, sure, we could have independently toured Denver's City Park at any time. The Pavilion, Bible House, even the greenhouses are open to public access - but then, we wouldn't have seen fire-breathing gargoyles.



Wait, what?



The Colorado Historical Society arranged a City Park tour led by al all-star cast: Tom Noel, Colorado historian and author of most of the decent books about Colorado; Gary Douglas, the superintendent of the city's greenhouses; Mark Upshaw, the project planner for Denver Parks & Recreation; Carla Madison, city council for District 8; Dennis Gallagher, the City Auditor of Denver; and a host of historians and archivists preserving the park's legacy and historicity.



It's an exciting time for the park, as it is for Denver. One hundred years ago the city hosted the Democratic National Convention, and this summer it's rolling into town again. We've had a surfeit of 1908 revivalists showing up at the odd moment. Last week, in a tour of City Hall, an Emily Griffith impersonator and two floozies sang songs from the 1908 convention about being unable to resist the charms of cowboys. We even had a Mattie Silk impersonator talk about entrepreneurship. For the ladies out there who want a little money, you know.



The Park in 1908 had what Upshaw described as the antique equivalent of a laser light show. An office in the Pavilion connected with a fountain in the middle of Ferril Lake, and in time to music by none other than John Philip Sousa, water spires shot up up to 100 feet high amidst colored lights. The effect was like something out of the Bellagio, but after the convention the fountain was too expensive and time-consuming to run a great deal. In 1931, East High School students rowed to the middle of the lake, unscrewed the colorful balls that lit up the fountain, and dumped them all in the lake. Now, the city's spending $1 million - a generous amount for preservation - to completely reconstruct the fountain in time for the 2008 Democratic National Convention. It's well worth it; given how Denver wets itself when anything exciting happens here, now that we have an actual, important, history-altering event I would expect a proportional response. And hey, what would a political convention be without floozies, anyway?

Oh, and the fire-breathing gargoyles? There are some advantages to being a city councilwoman, and I suppose one of them is being able to decorate your house however you like. You should see it on Halloween.

Note: These photos were taken by me mother, Marianne Goodland, who's an excellent photojournalist.

Pictures!

The National Frontier Trails Center's covered wagon:



The interesting thing about this museum is that half of its space concerns the preparation for the trip, not the trip itself. This matches the time the settlers themselves put into each phase, so it's deliberate; if you didn't have great preparation and forethought, you were likely to either die or say screw it and go back home. FORESHADOWING.

Independence, MO:



This is the courthouse. They are crazy for history there - they have every trail ever conceived running through there from Lewis and Clark to I-70, like every place in Missouri (even the backwards ones) they have Civil War sites, and Harry Truman was born there and planted his library a few blocks away from the courthouse. Their historic budget is HUGE.



When you get started on the Auto Tour these are the signs you look for, depending on what leg you're on. It's a pity the auto tour gets sparse toward Wyoming, and stops entirely at its Western border. The Wyoming guide, in fact, is noticeably less put-together and cohesive than the Kansas/Missouri/Nebraska legs. Someone told me they went bankrupt and were going to stop putting these guides out, but then I actually looked at the damn booklet and, well, I don't think the National Park Service has quite gone belly-up yet. People researching sites have to chase down rumors today just as their forebears did, I guess. I would not be surprised, however, if government belt-tightening did stall the Idaho/Oregon edition, or caused the Wyoming version to be less robust.

This means there is plenty of room for a privately-sold guide to scout out sites, because the NPS guide is not by any means comprehensive, really go to town in the research and interpretation, and come out with something informative, easy to use, and updated with various research associations. And yes, I am seriously thinking about scouting it this summer.

Gravesites:



I spent a lot of time photographing gravesites. Now, I'm no ghoul or goth. Quite frankly I find the obsession over other people's relatives to be a bit odd, those who take rubbings and find great significance in reflecting over the immaterial remains of the corpses of complete strangers just because they're dead. I've stayed in the Ozarks, I do not fear death and it has no mystery for me. In the case of the Oregon Trail, however, gravesites like this one become quite significant. (It was also Easter Sunday, so someone put fake flowers on everything.)

This person likely died of cholera. The area, outside of Willard, Kansas, seems lonely and desolate today. It wasn't much better in the heyday of Union Town, a trail stop run by Herbert Reinhard Green. It's worth noting that the Green cemetery is across the road and up a ways, but this person was likely planted right where they died. Cholera attacked the Oregon Trail tenaciously; diaries first mention the gravesites along the trail, then progress to counting them ("went 3 miles today; passed twenty graves" for example), then mention them only if there is a name attached to the marker, then mention only when the party does not pass a grave on their day's stretch. The Trail was paved with bodies. This person in the grave above is fairly lucky, as corpses go; we know his or her age, and where his or her body was buried. Many, many more are like this person, found in a children's cholera cemetery near Red Vermillion Crossing (marker replaced by a modern one):



More often than not, however, these graves are simply unknown to us entirely.

Honestly, the importance of cholera to the trails experience cannot be overstated. Not when there are cemeteries full of this:



Families often saw their children die of the disease one by one, and with no medical attention on most of the Trail there was nothing to do but try to make them comfortable and hope that "vigor" would pull them through it. The children in this cemetery - and there are a lot - do not die one at a time; they are clumped together by days. 50 people at this site died in the space of one week, but their stone is "Unknown" like the one above. In this case, they used a mass grave - there was no time for grieving or formalities, and in some cases with entire families wiped out they had no way of knowing who they were burying.

The founder of Red Vermillion Crossing himself, a Potawotami/French man named Louis Vieux, lived a long full life and died at the age of 37.

What's interesting about Louis Vieux is that, until the Sioux Uprising of 1862, Native Americans saved the lives of many travelers and helped guide them. After all, they were just passing through; tribes could understand a nomadic settlement. Travelers' fears of Native Americans were encouraged by stories of isolated incidents and racial uncertainty, and in some cases of attack these fears provoked settlers into committing what they thought was preventative defense. To be sure, there were hostile bands who robbed wagon trains and killed who they could; but even Cheyenne Dog Soldiers were under control by the more peacelike Cheyenne political society in the earliest decade of the Oregon Trail. Gradually, however, decimation due to disease (cholera!) and increased tensions brought by settlers who were not moving on caused the Dog Soldiers and warlike elements in other tribes to formally split and fight an armed conflict. The Plum Creek Massacre of August 1864, in which a now-fully formed and autonomous radical band of Dog Soldiers attacked and killed most of a wagon train on the Platte, increased hostilities across several states.

Among the most avid students of the Plum Creek Massacre was one Colonel John Chivington. He obsessively followed accounts of the survivors, whites who had been taken hostage and then ransomed. Nebraska's press called for swift action and lamented when it was not taken. Chivington, by now convinced that Dog Soldiers and peaceful Cheyenne societies were in collusion, decided that "nits make lice" - even Cheyenne and Arapaho children were not spared a few months later at Sand Creek. It did not matter to him that the band he attacked was not militaristic; that they had been explicitly promised safe camp by the government; that this was a different state, a different river, and in the case of the Arapaho a different tribe.

Days 2 and 3 of Epic Oregon: I understand the Donner Party.

03-21-08 noon, Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. I have just finished "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim" by David Sedaris, and am now looking for the "Holidays on Ice" CD. The juxtaposition of Kansas in-your-face religion with Sedaris's anecdotes about sweating through his ass seemed fitting.

"She prophesies falsely," said the man on the radio. "She reaches millions, Christians too." The radio interviewer asked, "What can be done? Can Christians denounce her?" "No," the man said. "She is too powerful, now. The risen Jesus will appear and battle her." His tone was not anxious or hateful, but smug and with a bit of cheer. He is the leader of a megachurch and a successful author, the inmate who discovered you can run your own aslyum as long as you build it yourself. Though the end of the world is generally regarded as a bad thing, a dedicated subset of radical Christians - many of whom live in Kansas, judging by the poorly-maintained billboards proclaiming "ABORTION STOPS A BEATING" - believe the impending battle foretold in Revelations is in fact good - not because they want the world to end, but because it will finally prove to everyone that they were right. Yes, there are entire swaths of the country laboring under the belief that there is no price too great to be able to say "I told you so" for all eternity.

The false prophet, by the way, is Oprah. Oddly, I found myself agreeing with at least the premise that Oprah is now too powerful to stop excepting supernatural means.

The radio station segued into a woman who called in mocking secular parenting, namely, the habit of lending your child a Porsche and shrugging it off when they crash it into a tree. "No big deal," their caricatures say, "we can just get another one." I was about to ask my radio if MTV's "Super Sweet Sixteen" show was perhaps an inaccurate sample size for statistical purposes, but then she'd moved on to Bear Stearns in her own version of KKRAP: Bad Analogy Radio.

Then I got distracted by a car pulling over. The driver got out. He was wearing hipwaders. He picked up some unidentifiable roadkill. He took it back with him into his truck. The cab part. He did not have any markings that might indicate he works for the county, or even Greenpeace.

By then, like an evangelist with ADD, the radio station started talking about Christian responsibility to boycott Middle Eastern oil. Because it is run by Jews.

03-22-08: 2:00 am. Independence, MO.

I awoke at 2 in the morning to discover that cheap-as-hell motels are not always run by sweet Christian grandmothers who look out for your safety and congratulate you for the most mundane of virtues like not smoking, and would probably say "good for you!" with the same enthusiasm if you said "I'd like the non-ax-murderer rooms please." No, no. Sometimes cheap motels are run by evil masked with a pleasant Southern accent.

I had my trepidations about the Budget Host Inn when my "non-smoking" room smelled like feet. And not healthy feet. The refrigerator, for which I paid a small bonus, expressed a promise to keep things cool and failed to deliver. When the door closed and locked, I could see a half-inch of daylight between it and the door jamb. Oh, yeah. This was a good idea.

I got some air-freshener, because goddamn. Antibacterial air freshener. This was the kind of place where you worry about getting crabs in your nosehairs. There was nothing wrong with the people that I could see, so I didn't worry too much about theft as seedy as the area looked. People get down on their luck, and some of them lived here until they could find better credit or an apartment or a job. But every human being deserves better than to wake up at 2:00 am and find that the heater has stopped working, leaving the windswept room extremely cold.

Luckily I already had my thermal blanket, because I was afraid of catching crabs. Ah, I thought, perhaps I can remedy this by taking a hot shower? I turned on the water and the tub's faucet hesitated, then separated itself from the wall. This, after driving through the rest of Kansas to get here.

HELL, I tell you.

03-22-08, 9:00 am: The National Trails Museum, Independence, MO.

I'll spare you the details of why this is a fantastic museum. It serves the Lewis & Clark, Mormon, Oregon, and Santa Fe Trails on a shoestring budget, because Independence is one of the most historic towns in Missouri and can't give all the money it wants to all the sites that deserve it. The Auto Tour of the Oregon Trail is available for Kansas, Nebraska, and Wyoming - but sadly I hear the people who produce it have gone broke. If this is true, it will be a huge blow to road tourism for arguably this country's single greatest, longest, and first ultimate road trip. Tourists will still retrace the steps of their ancestors, but the Auto Tour makes sure they don't miss the best of the sites while preserving that sense of adventure these descendants are looking for.

Independence was a starting point for the most significant migrations in westward expansion; it is also the home of Harry Truman, the site of his presidential library, the closest thing to a religious mecca the United States has, and the site of several Civil War engagements. With so much history, it's no wonder the trails are a bit underplayed - and it takes a lot to make the Oregon Trail seem less significant by comparison.

03-28-08, 4:00 pm: Topeka, Kansas.

A stop on the Trail for many pioneers, Topeka is host to the Kansas History Museum, a huge sprawling complex with transplanted railroads, tipis, log cabins, and missions. They have an exhibit right now about natural disasters, and of course I was all over that. The Museum Shop sells tornados in bottles. Hee!

It's interesting to see how various sites in Kansas approach the interpretation of missions. Rather than mere places to convert unbelievers and perform public services, missions in Indian Territory were used as a weapon to forcibly remove Native American children from their parents, punish them for speaking their native tongues, teach the girls to be housewives and the boys to be farmers, and then turn them back out into a world that regarded them as neither Native American nor white but wholly unacceptable. Children subject to these missions committed suicide in droves, or died depressed and tubercular. In many cases, guided by leading anthropologists and religious leaders, those who ran the missions believed wholeheartedly that they were doing a service - if Native American tribes were to be wiped from the face of the earth by hardliners who collected bounties on scalps and herded the remaining tribes like cattle, the best thing they could do for their children was repatriate them into "civilized" society. "Kill the Indian, save the man" was the slogan.

Most of the remaining missions take care to talk about the survivors. How they tried to find positions in white society, and could not because they were not white or black. How they had to change their names upon arrival. Coming back to the ever-smaller reservations and realizing they could not talk to their parents because they'd forgotten their native languages. These sites talk, too, about how even a horribly misguided, tragic policy was implemented out of what was then educated kindness and good intentions. But some missions gloss it over; like our view of missionaries in Africa, the directors are presented as kindly paternalistic religious pioneers who met with resistance but in the end helped those who accepted it. Which in and of itself is not a bad message, but presented with a lack of contrary (and realistic) testimonials and evidence it seems to continue the same patronizing outlook that caused the mission to be there in the first place. Most small museums have understood by now that one need not condemn the misguided, no matter how wrong they are, and that the presence of a contrary testimony does not negate good intentions. Some, however, have not yet gotten the message.

Day 1 of Epic Oregon: Not Yet Commenced.

3-20-08, 8:00 pm: Arriba, Colorado.

It's pronounced AIR-ri-bah, says the rest stop marker. I would like to design these things someday. This may be the only guide to "local color" the tourists get, and most people will (rightfully) pass by AIR-ri-bah without so much as a glance. The marker also contains an explanation of homesteading, almost anticipating the question of why anyone would settle in a place that's not only barren, but mispronounced.

AIR-ri-bah joins Buena Vista (BYOO-na Vista), Louisville (LOUISSSSville), and Salida (sal-EYE-dah) as a town with an unfortunate grasp of etymology and linguistics. I am not too sorrowful, however; as a Coloradan, I need not be terribly ashamed that I seem to have been mispronouncing Taliesin (tal-e-A-zin) for several years. We are as a people exempt from most rules of logic, and language should not be any different.

3-20-08, 11:00 pm: Oakley, Kansas.

I am bedding down for the night in the latest, and greatest, phenomenon of road travel: The Christian motel.

Unless they are secretly a band of thieves in disguise, Christian motels cater to the honest traveler on a budget. This particular one goes for $33/night, which is standard for the ones I have so far seen. They don't care what religion you are, really, but do have an inordinate amount of Jesus-fish and crucifixes in their advertising and are given to wishing you a good Sabbath or upcoming Easter. I just wish them a good whatever in return and take it as it is given: a general wish of good health and happiness.

Which is why I'm writing about Christian motels in general. Initially, I was unsure about the idea of staying in a place so heavily tied to religion. What would they be like? Were they awesome or judgmental? Then I saw the price, and then I realized - hey, I am staring down a barrel called Kansas-at-night, which is even more stultifyingly boring than Kansas-at-day. I can make any place interesting during the day, but not from 9 pm on. And I didn't particularly feel jazzed about sleeping in my car, which is normally quite comfortable but its lack of organization of new brochure acquisitions would get to me and I'd stay up all night sorting and that leads to studying. I'd really rather chill and watch Venture Bros. on my computer. For $33 and a lack of exposure-related death I can even suck up fire and brimstone. So I will get to Independence, MO, tomorrow, likely around noon.

And check this out: Christian motels are the absolute bomb. This one, the Free Breakfast Inn I think it's called, gives you free breakfast (natch) at a local steakhouse. There are two queen-sized beds in this room. A TV. A microwave. A refrigerator. Free phone if you ask them to turn it on. The room is clean and warm and the area is safe. In this case, anyway, the concept of a Christian motel becomes an endorsement because the owners try to evoke their duty to shelter travelers as part of their religion. I can't imagine that they're making much money off of this place, but that does not seem to be why they're doing it - and they all seem linked, by price, philosophy, and quality across the state. It's a pretty awesome way to exercise your religion that makes everyone happy and safe.

Epicness begins today!

Last year's epic Spring Break road trip was not a road trip at all, but a fantastic sojourn into Tuscany. As in Italy. I ate in wonderful little places with wild boar pappardelle and margherita pizza, and saw towns changed little since the medieval era, and went from never having been on a train before (except light rail) to traveling around Tuscany and briefly into Rome on a train and loving it.

One thing that I have trouble with is taking a vacation. An honest-to-God vacation with no planned intellectual activity, no sense of obligation. Last year I had to finish up my senior thesis on Dante's Divine Comedy, which explains the urgency to go to Florence. This year, I am studying historical tourism marketing along the Oregon Trail for a class in public history.

Which leads me to Spring Break 2008's most exotic local: Nebraska.

I've never run the Oregon Trail before, and never really had an inclination to. None of my relatives ever traveled it, and their contribution to westward expansion occurred back when this meant "move to Ohio/Indiana/Wisconsin and try not to kill yourself from boredom."

To tell the truth, I was a little scared of Nebraska. On some trip or another to Indiana, my mother and I wound up invariably behind some redneck's truck covered in decals expressing no less than five different kinds of misogyny. We went to a Village Inn and heard someone at the table next to us repeatedly justifying the moral righteousness of acquiring DUIs as Paris Hilton acquires gigantic shoes (girlfriend is a size 11, heehee) eventually saying in regards to her son's first at age 11, "DUIs don't matter if you're not old enough to have a license anyway." Had there been much fantasticness to recommend Nebraska aside from that, perhaps I wouldn't have made an entirely sensible vow to stay the hell out of there.

Then a couple of years ago I did a show with the City of Denver Pipe Band in Sidney, Nebraska, which is just inside the state enough to understand that it is barren, and moreso than Kansas. Kansas is what it is. It just shrugs its shoulders and says "OK, just get through as fast as you can." Nebraska is aggressively bland. But in my downtime between shows and playing concerts with bluegrass bands and all the other wierdness of that weekend, I started to drive around a bit. I visited the legendary Carhenge, a replica of Stonehenge made from old cars. And the nexus of this whole idea to someday run the Oregon Trail was the observation that, having little else, the state has focused its energies on a spectacular marketing program. It turned its aggressive blandness into an asset. This impresses me.

The plan here is to drive about 300 miles every day. My route is, roughly:

Englewood, CO to Independence, MO: 617 miles. I leave tonight and hope to be in Independence by Friday. I figure, do this stretch at night because it's inconsequential to the trip - though I will likely miss the A & W in Russell, Kansas, in which the employees have erected a shrine to Bob Dole. I will also miss seeing the billboards every ten miles or so that advertise, alternately, "The biggest groundhog in the world!!!" and "Next exit: Stuckey's! Three t-shirts for ten bucks!" (Note: There is never, ever a Stuckey's at the next exit. There was a gutted building that used to be a Stuckey's once. I suspect the World's Biggest Groundhog grew up and became Ali Larter.)

Many of the Oregon Trail migrants started in Independence, MO. The first leg, hopefully on Friday, is Independence to Lincoln, NE. Given the detours I'm planning this is roughly 300 miles.

Saturday is Lincoln to Fort Kearny, which has an amazing historical center. If it's really amazing, I may take my Alliance detour on Sunday and mostly stay in Fort Kearny Sunday as well.

Sunday/Monday is Fort Kearny to Scottsbluff with a detour to Alliance (can't pass up Carhenge).

Monday/Tuesday is Scottsbluff to Casper, WY, where they have a huge Oregon Trail museum. I'd wanted to be in Casper Wednesday, and I may yet do that if either end of this leg is extremely interesting.

Tuesday/Wednesday is Casper to Jeffrey City to Cheyenne, where I'm going to the Albany Steakhouse as is my custom and having a goddamn good steak. Then I may or may not either stay over in Cheyenne, or just drive back home at night because Cheyenne isn't that far away from Englewood.

I have a shitload of Oregon Trail guidebooks, though I need atlases and for some reason it's hard to find atlases for Nebraska, Kansas, and Wyoming here. I haven't really found a guidebook to Nebraska readily available either, which indicates that perhaps MTV will not be showing up to Lincoln with camera crew and several thousand screeching, nubile morons.