Continuing further East past California,MO U.S.Route 50 enters Missouri State Capital – Jefferson City. Only a lazy Missourian hasn’t visited Jefferson City or at least looked at its photos so I am not going to wear you out with my own.

Missouri State Capitol is similar to its sisters in Topeka,KS and Springfield,IL, but, unlike more hospitable Kansas, one cannot get to the top of the dome without a State Representative.

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Cue the soundtrack:

So I was driving around yesterday, getting some bugs embedded in my windshield on the rural highways of Kansas. Now is a time to do it: it’s not too hot to roll the windows down and let the smell of prairie spring fill the stuffy cabin of your car, turn the radio full-blast and hit full speed hoping that the local Barney Fife is relaxing after the church on Sunday. The sheer size of Kansas is hard to comprehend, several hours of driving is still a local trip and although it’s mostly endless farmland, there are many points of interest along the way.

But first things first – a Lawrence strip-club now features an Ed Hardy room. Gentlemen, start your engines!

Little further down the road there is an establishment called “Tee Pee”:

One of the “tee pees” is marked with flood marks from various years on the nearby Kansas River.

Turning North on Hwy 59 it’s a short drive to Oskaloosa, KS – home of the Old Jefferson Town – a collection of old buildings and structures moved to one place from all over Jefferson County.

There is a school and a church, a lonely bandstand replica…

…a rusty bridge…

…and a jail where a local Otis Campbell could’ve spent a night or two.

I had to take a second look at this work of art:

Turns out this sculpture commemorates a Wind Wagon builder from Oskaloosa – Sam Peppard.

This is how Sam Peppard sailed the prairie:

The ship hove in sight about 8 o’clock in the morning with a fresh breeze from east, northeast. It was running down in a westerly direction for the fort, under full sail, across the green prairie. The guard, astonished at such a sight, reported the matter to the officer on duty, and we all turned out to view the phenomenon. Gallantly she sailed, and at a distance …not unlike a ship at sea In front is & large coach lamp to travel by night when the wind is favorable … A crank and band wheels allow it to be propelled by hand when wind and tide are against them.

Today Sam Peppard would’ve been able to sail right to the next fence. Kansas ain’t what it used to be…
Oskaloosa City Square is not very different from other small Kansas towns like Burlingame or Ottawa.

People in the 19th century believed in stability so much that they didn’t hesitate to chisel the word “Bank” on the building. Bank wasn’t moving anywhere.

They would be surprised to see a “Chunkie Dunker’s” diving pig occupying one of the windows.

Although “lending with a heart” is still residing in the building.

An old water tower dominates every view.

Masons built this building in 1886.

HWY 92 is being guarded by the local post of the American Legion (brought to you by Coors).

Overlooking the shores of the Perry Lake , the city of Ozawkie,KS is mostly famous for its sign.

Nearby you can grab a monster burger…

… and get a New Kids on The Block -styled haircut from the stylist/owner Gail Dillenbeck.

HWY 4 takes you all the way up to Valley Falls.

Is it me or is it really the State of Texas hanging over the cowboy on the right?
Valley Falls turned out to be a neat little town, with its own downtown…

…where “Buy American!” turned into local “Shop Valley Falls 1st”.

No New Kids on The Block here, Punk cuts hair in this town.

Valley Falls has its share of historic buildings…

…but many are no longer in use…

…and wrenches are not clanging anymore behind the friendly window signs.

Here is a piece of unsolicited advice to the KC Star: you want people to buy your paper? Name it “The Vindicator”. You can’t not subscribe to “The Vindicator”.

Cows are peacefully grazing where the Battle of Hickory Point once raged.

Nowadays there is no time for battle, Kansas Farmers are busy feeding “128 people + you”, or did “Kansas Agri Women” figure this out when we were all still skinny?

And why fight if this is what you see out of your window every morning.

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Recently an old Soviet spy-identification aid has come to my attention. I don’t know if it’s authentic, but it looks, feels and reads as such. The surprising part is that according to this memo I would now be easily outed as a spy. Not because of quality work (god forbid!), good posture and neat clothes, but mostly due to the habit of putting my feet up and love of cocktails. If you read carefully, the text is not of the highest opinion about an average Soviet citizen – a slouchy impolite slob, with simple food tastes, who eats a lot of bread, slams his drinks and has inferior work ethic.

Free translation mine.

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Preface:

Hundreds of thousands of people with better cameras and better photography skills vacation at the same places as me.

Hundreds of thousands of people are better at travel writing than I am, better at writing in general, and are clearly better than me at speaking English.

Go read their damn blogs….

I love to travel. It helps me to relax; feel in charge when I am planning my next trip, buying tickets and making reservations; learn new things; change the scenery; feel better (or worse) about my hometown. Most importantly, it helps me not to raise a moron. This year we traveled to the Pacific Northwest, a place that until now remained a blank spot on my travel map. We visited Seattle, took an Amtrak train to San Francisco and drove 450 miles along the Pacific Coast on Highways 1 and 101, stopping for a night in Monterey. The trip turned out to be even better than I imagined.

The next several posts will be about these places illustrated with tons of photos (I brought back 1,214, which would probably weigh tons if I was using film).

Face:

If there was a god, the Pacific Northwest would have been his reward to the people who didn’t quit going West in the middle of Kansas, and, instead of making “Ad Astra Per Aspera” their motto and giving up, continued to endure and persevere for months and years, slowly consuming their mates on the way. When these people, exhausted and with little hope remaining, saw the water in front of them (after the rain stopped and the fog cleared 6 months later), they knew it was all worth it, and everyone they ate on the way would have wanted it that way. Over time they proceeded to cut and kill most of the things so abundant in the area, swindle the Indians, build depressing slums and fill the void with homeless people, Mexican radio stations, French-speaking tourists and a special breed of people who ride the Ducks.

Over time, people had an epiphany, and after multiple fires and earthquakes, the Pacific Northwest and Northern California (I have no idea if these are considered one geographical region) are an American jewel, a place where the nature, weather and landscape combined with the architecture, city planning, atmosphere and a number of Asian restaurants approaching infinity make one understand why people are willing to pay mind-blowing prices to live there.

If I had to summarize Seattle in one photo, it would probably be this shot of a redheaded, bearded guy in a cap, wearing sandals and smoking a pipe.

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