Chapter 4

Just so you'll know ... trips are boring unless it's your turn to do the driving. There's lots to see ... at first. But mostly it's miles and miles of the same thing ... with little wide spots in the road to catch your interest for a couple of seconds. I fully understand, "are we there yet?" I also understand, "we get there when we get there!"

Imagine walking the 882 miles if you really want boring. Twenty miles and set up camp ... twenty miles and set up camp ... day after day after day. But you might find something ... driving? ... you look at the road.

But it's 55 miles per until you come up behind a farmer on a tractor or an old lady going to the sewing circle ... and then it's 55 again. Although it's not mentioned ... the Huntly's stopped a lot and sometimes it was just because there was a roadside table. It's flat farm from Saint Johns to Cincinnati and there's not a lot to see. They gassed up every time the gauge dropped below a half tank. It was something to do that was different. The Dodge averaged 22 mpg over the trip ... and that's not bad.

Ed hated Interstates with a passion and that's why they went south on the old roads.

Monday June 14th:

They left St Johns, Michigan and headed south through Lansing, to Jackson and then across the Ohio border and on to Bryan, Ohio. From Bryan they continued south to Van Wert, Eaton and on into Cincinnati. They crossed the river into Kentucky and drove another half hour to 914 Camel Crossing, Alexandria, KY.

They stayed at the Claryville Inn, a bed and breakfast just off old US 27. The local restaurant down the street was filling and tasty. Some cooks know how to bake a meatloaf ... and some don't. This one was delicious.

Welcome to the land of sweet tea.

The walk around the inn's gardens relieved seat-butt tension.

The shower was roomy and hot, the bed was well received, breakfast was southern style, and their hosts were unpretentious folks. No fancy and high priced chain hotel with moldy chinese wallboard and thin walls. The Claryville was built by craftsman and lovingly restored.

They couldn't tear themselves away from the interesting history of the river.

Riverboats hauling the treasure of the inland Indians ... furs ... with the attendant pirates. Then came the shallow draft paddlewheel steamers and boiler explosions. Cincinnati was a major shipping point during the War of Northern Aggression. In case you don't know what that is ... it started in 1860.

In the very early 1800's, Cincinnati was the first American town in the heart of the country to rival the larger coastal cities in size and wealth. As the first major inland city in the country, it is sometimes thought of as the first purely American city. It developed initially without as much recent European immigration or the foreign influence that took place in eastern cities.

The inhabitants were Americans ... they thought like free Americans and objected strenuously at the term 'colonials.'

The railroads and improving commerce on the Great Lakes ended the expansion as Chicago took over first place among inland American cities. (WIKI)

Tuesday, June 15th:

The original plan had been to be on the road by 8am ... they left at 11. Seph needed a potty break in Cynthiana, KY. The Shell was well placed for relief, a candy bar and a bottled water. Increasingly southern attitudes and questions about the poles were answered with a standard line.

"We weren't sure if you folks had bridges so we brought a raft."

For some folks the answer was as funny as Ed and Seph had intended, others were insulted. Ed always ended up explaining that they were poles for their tipi ... and that brought out questions about having a trailer when they had a tent. The standard answer was, "just making sure."

The land had become more interesting south of Cinci, but after a while hills are as boring as the flat.

Sweet tea in bottles? Farce!

Cynthiana south, around Paris, straight through downtown Frankfort and south to Oneida Tennessee. From there to Harriman ... staying on 127 South they reached Rockwood, Spring City, Dayton, Sale Creek and a town with the improbable name of Soddy-Daisy. Soddy-Daisy created several ribald jokes about Daisy and who might be sodding her. They crossed into Georgia south of Chattanooga switching roads to US 27.

When in Rome do as the visitors do. Claremont House had room and it was just a hop, skip and jump away from their chosen route. Persephone was fairly exhausted ... they stayed two nights. She was sick to her stomach the first night.

Ed babied his baby ... she needed it. She cried a lot and the stress of the bank robbery was telling. She hadn't let it out and now it was a flood. For once, their story was king. For as often as it happens, there's not a lot of people who have met the victims of armed robbery.

Friday, June 18th:

Persephone insisted that they "get a move on, Ed," so they left the good people of Rome and continued south on US 27/411 ... when did 411 get added in the mix? Oh well.

They were now at the point where the lunch breaks were chosen by the restaurant with the gallon sun tea jugs on the windowsill.

Late Friday afternoon, 27/411 finally led them to La Grange ... there they turned west and and left US 27. They jumped on Interstate 85, smuggled their way into Alabama and stopped at the University Airfield. If anybody would know how to get to Sharpe Field, an airport would be the place to ask. They pulled off the highway and drove around the fence following the signs until they came to the Terminal Road.

They hated to do it, but they paid for parking. Looking for a knowledgeable person they entered the terminal and saw a beautiful young lady holding a sign that said "Gathering."

"Hi," said Seph.

"Hi ... are you here for the Summer Solstice?"

Ed said, "Actually ... yes ... and no. We're trying to find Sharpe Field so we can talk to Harold about our aircraft and then we want to go to the Solstice."

"I'm Megan Fox." She offered her hand.

"I'm Edmond Huntly. This is my wife, Persephone." Hand shaking all around.

"Pleased to meet you, Edmond. Persephone, you look tired. Hold on ... there's some folks I'm sure are heading out to the house."

There were several Japanese people dressed in hooded robes coming down the ramp. Megan held up the other side of her sign ... it was in Japanese. Relief was evident on the newcomers faces. Megan greeted them in excellent Japanese.

She led the entire group including the Huntly's out to a small bus. A second bus was pulling in behind the first. The driver of the waiting bus collected baggage stubs and went to gather luggage while Megan gave a little talk ... in Japanese ... about where this group was going and a brief synopsis of events. Everyone was smiles and bows.