I’ve you’ve ever driven to California from the Midwest, you probably remember driving across Kansas. I-70 bisects the the state in a merciless dead flat, arrow straight line of pavement. Hours of boredom before you can reach Denver or Kansas City is the way most travelers think about the Sunflower State, and I was no exception. This is my account of the trip that changed my mind about this “space between”.
Colorado transit
Ordinarily Colorado is a destination, a place to enjoy the spectacular Rocky Mountains after crossing trackless expanses of desert to the West or equally flat grain fields to the East. On this occasion circumstances were different. A Canadian Clipper was swiping down from the North, and the forecast was for significant snow. While this was great news for the ski resorts like Vail, Loveland and Copper Mountain ahead of me, I had no intention of being caught on the wrong side of the mountains in a snowstorm.
Accordingly, I got an early start out of Thompson Springs Utah and put my rig on Interstate 70 at the full speed limit, a rarity for me.
I made good time (at the expense of fuel economy), putting in a full day behind the wheel with just one stop at Fruita for Chinese food and diesel. That stop cost me however, as it put me into Denver during the drive-home traffic. Navigating an unfamiliar city at rush hour is never fun, even less so in an eight foot wide, fifty foot long truck/trailer combo.
A word of advice for future Eastbound travelers: civilization breaks off sharply east of Denver. I suppose everybody wants to live in the foothills, so there is practically no suburban sprawl to the East of the city. This makes for a sudden transition between full concentration urban freeway driving and being in the middle of nowhere. Not the best time to realize you need to find a gas station and a place to spend the night.
It was after dark before I pulled into a tiny private RV park in the farming town of Siebert near the state line. There were no street lights and the office was locked up, so I just put the trailer into the first site I could see, ate some cold cuts and went to bed.
Welcome to Kansas
I was awakened early by my old friend Leg Cramp since I’d slept cold without hooking up the electric. After rousing somebody at the office to pay for my stay it was back on the road in search of a fast food biscuit and a hot cup of coffee.
I left I-70 as soon as possible for the much more interesting US Highway 24. US 24 is one of those roads like Route 66 that was once the main artery through northern Kansas until the Interstates came through. My target was the Rooks County seat, a town of 1,200 named Stockton. The map showed it as a straight shot up US 24, but a bridge that was out near Nicodemus forced a looping detour to the South.
Once I made it to Stockton I settled in at a campsite at their fine city park for the ridiculously low price of $13 a night, including electric. After my headlong flight from Utah I was ready to settle for a while, and Stockton looked pretty good. Stockton offered everything I needed: a couple gas stations, a local grocery, restaurant/pub, post office and even a car wash to knock the remnants of Sego Canyon of my truck. Perfect!
The Post Rock Country
This section of the Solomon River valley is known as the Post Rock Country, as it’s an area of open prairie that is without trees for many miles. This is the land of the Little House stories, where European settlers built with the only materials available: sod and stone.
Using Stockton as my base, I made a few day trips to the South and East, where I discovered a string of nice little parks in every town along US 24. Unlike the one in Stockton, most were for day use only, but it made for an appealing way to linger in these little communities and take in the local vibe. Roadside Attractions figure prominently as well; a Kansas specialty I’ll explore in depth in the next post.
By the time I left Stockton, I’d met the barber, the grocer and the postmaster. I’d washed the truck, restocked the camper and donated to the NPR radio station. I learned a lot about local history and enjoyed a good meal and a beer. I would have visited the old theater to see the weekly movie too, but it happened to be a cartoon flick for little kids about talking animals.
Just like Fortuna North Dakota, I’d really come to appreciate Stockton. The warm welcome you receive in small towns that rarely see any tourists is refreshing, and they really appreciate every dollar you put into their economy. Next time you’re crossing Kansas on the way to someplace you think is more interesting, take a moment for a good hard look at The Space Between. There’s more here than meets the eye.