Tuesday, February 18, 2020

Westward


To read about Eastbound adventures, click here.

Our drive to Iowa via Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois was uneventful.  Well, other than paying a lot of money to wait in long toll lines and over an hour of crawling traffic near Chicago, it was pretty much just straight driving.  We reached Iowa as the sun was setting and drove the final few hours in peace and darkness.  Our stop for the night was the Stony Creek Lodge in Des Moines.  We checked in around 11 pm and quickly settled into the comfy bed and a few TV shows before calling it a night.  In the morning we enjoyed a decent breakfast before heading to the lodge pool indoor/ outdoor pool and hot tub, decked out in bear, elk, and woods motif.  It was kind of like Great Wolf without the water park and crowds.  









Drive, drive, drive down 1-80 we did for the next 400 + miles.  I did absolutely no planning for this stretch, and wondered if there was some hidden gems that I was missing right off the empty exits.  Unexpectedly, things did get a bit interesting when it was time to stop for dinner.  As we blazed through the empty fields of Western Nebraska, Jerry mentioned seeing an advertisement about 100 miles back for an Indian restaurant.  Lo and behold, there it was when we pulled off the interstate, attached to a truck stop and in the middle of nowhere… pretty much the least “Indian” looking place I could imagine up.  I was thinking- this will either be a really great or really terrible idea.  The truck stop was old and wearing, and while in the midst of doubting that it could possibly contain an actual Indian restaurant, the amazing and unmistakable smells of curry and spice hit me.  We all agreed it was a great sign, and took seats in a small awesomely vintage corner booth, likely made to fit a party of two.  And, can you believe, the food was great!  The menu was all Indian and all authentic, and we excitedly dined on spicy samosas, chicken tikka masala, chicken curry, and saag with potatoes.  It was actually heavenly, no doubt even more special as it was the last thing I’d expected we’d find for dinner.  You can read more about this immigrant’s American dream to own a truck stop restaurant here:

In addition to our cozy dinner, we found ourselves dining just as an impressive storm hit and temporarily flooded out the parking lot.  By the time we were ready to make a run for it to our car, even the toads were fleeing.  Back on the road we had an hour or so of gentle rain turn to dry roads, when another, possibly stronger, storm front posed ominously.  At one point our car was speeding close to 80 mph seemingly under towering curve of the thundercloud line, almost as if we were surfing under an epic wave.  It wasn’t long before the monsoon rains and lighting were dancing everywhere and we had to slow way down, now off the interstate, as our phone buzzed with flash flood warnings.  



Ominous views from Taste of India truck stop, Overton, Nebraska.

Wondering if that drop ceiling would hold during a tornado...

These vintage phone jacks were so cool!

Indian food after a long day on the road- come to mama!
I don't remember what was so funny, but I do remember feeling a bit delirious after the long drive and looming storm.


Incredible storm clouds leaving the restaurant.




And that was about it for excitement for the day… unless, of course, you consider a remote, deserted, lakeside cabin stay fit for a serial killer exciting.  Looking back, I did find it a bit strange when I called earlier in the day to confirm our reservation and the lady knew exactly who I was.  “Oh- you reserved a cabin with us for tonight?  You must be Mrs. Flax.”  While, in reality, the conversation really played like this in my head: “Oh, you are the crazy person that actually reserved one of our cabins for the night??  Good luck, sucker!”   The call ended with her instructions to look for “the last cabin on the left, oh and also by the way we won’t be there tonight”.  First off, hello did you not see that movie Last House on the Left, and second, why is the entire main lodge closed just days after July 4th during prime lake season?!  I mean, in hindsight it was odd that this so called lodge didn’t even have so much as a website, and I only found it after an overzealous Google maps search around Lake McConaughy turned up indication of maybe some lodging next to a defunct boat ramp.  I was innocently, merely looking for something a bit remote, and off the beaten path (followed by an inexplicable desire to search for true crime/ serial killer/ lakeside cabin podcasts).  So yes, I found the phone conversation a bit odd and concerning, and my fears were only even more justified as we arrived just prior to sunset, that the lodge was indeed closed, and we were the only party appearing to stay for the night.  No other cars, and no other inhabited cabins (which, to be fair, it seemed our “last cabin on the left” was the only one even fit for rental).  To put it mildly, this place is a bit scary.  Yes, I am using present tense as I sit at the kitchen table in our musty cabin, wondering how many gin and tonics it will take to muster the nerve to go to bed for the night.  Let me set the scene for you- no cell service or phone line?  Check.  Musty, old cabin with questionable window and door locks? Check.  No other lodgers in sight and owners left for the night?  Check.  Dark, secluded, woodsy lakeshore right out your door?  Check.  Creepy, old TV/ VCR set up with an ominous VHS tape hand titled “Watch Me”?  Check.  Okay, that last part didn’t really happen.  Are we acting irrationally, are we over reacting for no reason?  I don’t know, you tell me- is it normal to barricade the doors with furniture and stash a kitchen knife next to the bed?  Probably not, and probably we should bail, but this late at night, we have committed to staying, and hopefully this will be a memory that will be the start of many great laughs and stories in the future.  “Remember that time honey, you tried to get the whole family murdered at that dilapidated cabin on that remote section of Nebraska shoreline?  Well, at least our bellies were full with some good truck stop Indian…”  For now though, I’m arming with my gin.  Like ordering Indian from a truck stop, I’m getting the feeling this could either turn out really great (okay, probably not great at this point), or end up being a terrible idea.  

Honey, we're heeere!
Our cabin for the night... pictures don't do the creepiness justice.

Multiple flimsy windows looking out in the woods... that's just great!



Months later, in the safety of my house, I’m finally sitting here ready to get this posted.  As you might have guessed, no one was injured in the making of this blog.  When I awoke at first light in our cabin I felt an immediate rush of relief.  I counted heads to reaffirm, and then headed to the “kitchen” to fix some coffee.  The rest of our day and drive involved a little hike along the shore of Lake McConaughy, which we decided to save exploring of for another day and time (and cabin, for that matter!).
Another hike mini hike at Ash Hollow State Historical Park, and a couple of gas station/ fast food stops later, and we were home before sunset.  And after our last night on the road, my own bed never felt so good!

Shores of Lake McConaughy

Remy is digging up bones at the Ash Hollow visitor center.

Ash Hollow hike


Leaving Nebraska

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