SALT OF THE EARTH

As I said in the last post, our RV park in Hutchinson, Kansas, Melody Acres, wasn’t much to look at, and I’m not too sure about the wisdom of taking shelter from a tornado in that clapboard office (maybe it’s got a basement?),

but it did have the virtue of being located a mere 2 miles from our first touristy destination of the trip, the Kansas Underground Salt Museum – the salt mines!  This is the largest salt mine in the Americas, and lies 650 feet under the surface.  It is a remnant of an ancient Permian sea, and part of a vein of salt formed 275 million years ago that runs from Kansas all the way to New Mexico! 

During most of the Permian Period, shallow seas covered what is now Kansas. Sea level fluctuated -- sometimes the land was exposed and a terrestrial environment existed; at other times, mudstones (shale) and limestone were deposited in a normal marine setting.

When the Hutchinson Salt Member formed, however, the climate was hot and dry, and the sea was restricted to central Kansas -- probably an isolated arm of the main ocean to the south, or cut off entirely. The rate of evaporation exceeded the inflow of water, and as evaporation continued and the salt content of the water increased, thick layers of salt built up on the sea bottom. It takes about 80 feet of sea water to produce a foot of salt, so it took thousands of years to accumulate the thick salt deposits of central Kansas. Over time, the salt layer was covered by younger rocks.

They started working this mine back in 1923, and today it covers thousands of acres.  They take out about 500 tons a day.  Roughly 13 trillion tons of salt reserves, about 1,100 cubic miles, underlie Kansas.  Underground mines in Kansas range in depth from 600 to 1,000 feet. They use the room-and-pillar method of mining, which begins with a shaft sunk through the overlying rock to the salt deposit. The salt is removed in a checkerboard pattern, in which large square caverns alternate with square pillars of salt that serve as support for the rock above. Approximately 75 percent of the salt is mined, while 25 percent is left for pillars. Blasting breaks the salt into manageable pieces, which are conveyed to crushers and removed to the surface through the shaft with large buckets. Because of the impurities (mostly shale and anhydrite), rock salt is used mostly as road salt for melting ice. 

It was our (tongue firmly in cheek) good fortune to hit it on school visit day.  We waited while this group of junior highers took off,

then it was our turn to don the hard hats and queue up with the high school bunch to enter the no-frills elevator, which descended the 650 feet in total darkness, much clanking and banging, and a rush of bodies to exit as soon as it hit bottom.

The museum portion of the mines occupies only a small part of the excavations, but even it seems to stretch on and on through long corridors and rooms.  The floor here has been paved with a mixture of Portland cement and salt dust.

The excavations are remarkably uniform in height.  They accomplished this by following four dark vein lines that extend throughout the salt deposit.  Loni is pointing to the lower single line, with the three line group above it.  These four were used as horizontal plumb lines to keep the digging even.

 

The excavating is done by using huge cutting tools and dynamite.  To cut into a wall, like the one Loni is standing in front of, they first use a giant chain saw with huge blades that look like a sawtoothed shark.  This is used to undercut the wall with a kerf slice (about 8 feet in, and then cut along the wall level with the floor for about 20 feet) in order to provide a small underneath space to permit the stone to drop and, when pulled out, leave a smooth floor.  They then drill 26 holes, no more, no less, and fill each one with explosives.  All are connected to a single fuse, which has a four minute burn time – enough to allow everyone to get about 300 feet back from the explosion.  It all goes kaboom and is scooped up and loaded on big skips to be hauled back to the lifts.

One of the mantras of the mines is that anything that goes down into the mine, stays there. Everything that went down had to be disassembled above and then rebuilt below.  They didn’t bother to reverse the process.  After all, they have plenty of empty space.  The above right is an old car belonging to the mine superintendent.  It was used for decades before giving up the ghost and being entombed as an “attraction.”

Most of the museum can be done on your own by following the rooms around and viewing/reading the exhibits.  Here’s a six-ton pinch of salt.

They also have a couple of optional items:  a train ride through a portion of the mine still in its worked state, and a “dark” ride.  We figured the dark elevator was sufficient blackness, but opted for the train.  It’s a Casey Junior operation, complete with a seemingly Jungle Cruise-type guide (he later dropped the “aw shucks” demeanor and proved to be quite knowledgeable and articulate).  The, er, highlight of the ride was this trash pile with items at least as far back as a 1953 calendar.  I’ll spare you the low point, which was the impromptu toilet area for those workers who couldn’t wait.

Because of the constant temperature (about 66 degrees) and humidity, and of course its rather impregnable location, a portion of the mines has been long leased ( 50+ years) by a storage company that includes as clients the major movie studios for safekeeping of the original prints of movies and tapes of t.v. shows.  The original copy of The Wizard of Oz is down here,

as well as animation cels and costumes from various flics.

Time to quit playing mole people and return to the surface.  We had to get on the road and go 90 miles to Abilene (still Kansas), the boyhood home of Dwight Eisenhower and the site of his museum, library, and mausoleum.  We have enjoyed extraordinary luck so far on this trip.  The usual rule of thumb is that whatever direction we are heading, the wind will be in our face.  Headwinds are a disaster for a boxlike RV’s gas mileage.  But ever since we set out, we’ve either had calm weather or tailwinds.  We even managed 11.1 mpg on one stretch – woohoo!  But on the brief run up to Abilene from Hutchinson, we returned to form and started bucking (and rocking, and swaying, and wandering) with the head and cross winds.  Mileages since then have gone as low as 8.6.  Thank goodness that Kansas has some of the lowest gas prices.  We found $3.27 in one spot.

We had to haul butt, as the Eisenhower complex closed at 4:45 and we didn’t get out of Hutchinson until after noon.  We did a quick stop at our RV park to check in, then pulled right out and went up the road to the museum.  I think Ike is an undervalued president, but he appears to be rising in historians’ opinion as more files and papers are released.  Regardless, his was quite a journey from a pacifist religious family with no indoor plumbing until he was 18, to Supreme Allied Commander and President.  And not once did he prematurely preen “mission accomplished” on the deck of an aircraft carrier.

The first stop on the grounds was his boyhood home, from about age 1 to 20.  This has been preserved on the same site, and contains all original items from his family’s living there, including quilts and throws hand-made by his mother and grandfather.  He lived here with four brothers, his parents, and his grandfather (for a while).  It may look spacious from the outside, but the rooms are small and cramped.

The piano was his mother’s.  In an era when most of them sold for $400 or so, she paid $650 for this one – a fortune!  It wasn’t explained how this happened, but the family was not wealthly.  I mean, c’mon, they didn’t have indoor plumbing!

The museum was pretty interesting, with a lot of stuff on the war years.  One of the nifty items for me was the table on which Operation Overlord – DDay – was planned.

The painting that looks like a medieval religious scene was actually depicting a service that took place several years after the war in which the American military dead were being eulogized by the British, with Ike standing in for them.  Curiously, or perhaps not so after all, there was absolutely no mention of Kay Summersbee (sp?), Ike’s alleged paramour during his separation from Mamie during the war.

There is a presidential library housing his papers, etc., and a chapel where Ike, Mamie, and their died-at-age-four first son are buried.  Their second son, John, is still alive.

They closed the doors promptly at 4:45, so we split.  When we were at the salt mine, one of the docents asked where we were headed next.  When he heard “Abilene,” he said we HAD to try a restaurant up there that specialized in fried chicken.  We got the name, but not the address.  Fortunately, the park map that we picked up from the RV  park here had advertisements which included this restaurant.  We GPS’d it and took off.  It turns out to have been turning out the same menu for 97 years, and they did it well.  That’s a whole fried chicken for the two of us!

Needless to say, we took a lot of chicken with us in a baggie.

We were up early the next morning to get in a constitutional before getting on the road.  The Covered Wagon RV park was folksy, but clean and handy to town.

Abilene is a small town, but doesn’t have that dying-on-life-support feeling that so many midwestern places have.  It’s old --- it seems almost everything was built in 1885 --- but well tended, with few vacant storefronts, and lots of interesting architecture.  Ike said once that he was proudest to be able to call Abilene his home.

On our return to the park we came upon this home with the wagon wheel fence.

Adios, Abilene.  From here we are just humping it to Indy in a pair of 326 mile days.  Oye.  Please stop, wind.  Please!

Postscript:  we made it to Indy in two 326-mile days.  Albatross is now ensconced behind Mom’s house and we’re packing for our bus tour of Toronto-Ottawa-Montreal-Quebec City-Niagara Falls.  Our birthday present to Mom for her 89th.  We leave tomorrow.  Posting this from the local library, as Mom has no internet.  Allons-y!

HIGH PLAINS DRIFTERS, REDUX

LA to Indy: Days 2-5.  Since we’re just slogging our way east, without any sightseeing, this is a pretty boring section of the country.  We pulled out of the Avi at about 9:00am, crossed the muddy (at this point) Colorado, and headed north on the “Bullhead Highway” towards Laughlin.  At this point, we’re in Arizona, and looking across the river there is the Nevada side lined with all the casinos.  It’s amazing how much development has taken place in the last 20 years.  You’d think with Vegas so close, this area wouldn’t stand a chance, but maybe the river is the allure.  Past Bullhead City we turned east on SR68 and began a 3000+ climb up the Kingman grade.  It felt like it would never end.  Every time we thought we were at the top, we turned a corner and there was more grade.  Finally, the summit.

This was just the beginning of the climbing.  I am always amused by Denver touting itself as the “Mile-High City.”  The next couple of days driving – hundreds of miles – would be almost all above Denver’s altitude.  We entertained ourselves by checking elevation markers and GPS readings.  (OK, this is a really boring part of the trip, one we’ve made several times.)

Our destination on this day 2 was Holbrook, AZ, about 90 miles east of Flagstaff.  That 7234 reading above was on the approach to Flagstaff, which puts Denver to shame.  There is some nice terrain going through AZ on I-40.  We think that is Humphreys Peak, with the snow, the highest point in Arizona at 12,623 ft.  It’s just north of Flagstaff, with skiing there at the Arizona Snowbowl.

At Holbrook, we stayed at an old familiar park, the OK RV Park.  Decent wifi, very good bathrooms and showers, level sites.  Not much to look at, but it does the job.  Loni set to work making our first road dinner.  Pork medallions with onions, sweet potato/apple compote, and mixed squashes.  Yes, yum!  This calls for an IPA.

Unfortunately, during the night, someone tripped the main breaker for the power to our section of the park, and we woke up to no juice.  As it was Sunday morning, no one was about.  Not a biggie, except Loni wanted to wash her hair and needed her dryer.  They eventually got it sorted out just as we were leaving.  Next stop, day 3, was to be Albuquerque.  Again, no sightseeing.  We spent 10 days there a few years back at the balloon festival, so we had pretty much covered the scene then.  Our first sight of the Sandias as we pulled in included a long line of trucks on their way West through another construction slowdown.  Once again, the Economic Recovery Act is in full evidence in the Mountain States.

We opted for the American RV Park at the west entrance to Albuquerque (actually, about 9 miles west of downtown.  It’s just ahead on the right in the pic above (but not visible).  I have to rate this as one of the best RV parks we’ve ever stayed in.  Cost us $33, but every site was paved with a concrete pad, everything is new, the bathrooms are spotless and modern, great wifi, full cable, and very nice folks.  Highly recommended for our RV friends.

Since we weren’t going to break out the scoot to head into town for dinner, Loni made her own Mexican fare for dinner.  No pics, but yes, the soft tacos were excellent. 

There’s a long descent from the west into Albuquerque so, of course, there’s another long up grade heading east out of the city.  This gets you up onto a very high plain, which comes down a bit before settling down to straight line, high plains monotony.  The kink in the road in the below left pic was so welcome that I had to record it, but things mostly looked like the below right.

The destination for day 4 was Dalhart, in the Texas panhandle, the entirety of which looks like the two bottom photos above.  Flat and essentially lifeless.  We went as far as Tucumcari on I-40, where we stopped to have lunch.  Forgot to mention that before we left we stripped our avocado tree of nearly all its fruit, gave some away to friends and neighbors, and brought about ten with us.  They’re all ripening rather alarmingly rapidly, so we’ve been pigging out on them at every meal except breakfasts.  At Tucumcari, we stopped at a Love’s travel spot where we got the cheapest gas thus far, and feasted on open-faced tuna-avocado sammies.

From  there, we left I-40 and angled northeast on US54, mostly two-lane but fairly smooth going to Dalhart.  You might be scratching your head and wondering why we’re staying in places like Holbrook and Dalhart.  Simple.  Mileage.  I’m trying to keep each day’s travel reasonably manageable, somewhere in the high 200’s.  These places just happened to fall within the right range.

In Dalhart, we stayed at the Corral RV Park, a decent place with a homey feel to it.  It had nice, level gravel sites with all-new electric hookups and cable. 

But their free wifi was an awful service I’ve hated before at other parks – Tengo --, which has login nonsense that’s a PITA but, even worse, kept dropping out over and over again.  It was useless.  No posting from there!  What to do?  Why, eat, of course!  A chicken-corn-potato hash, with asparagus on the side.  The traveling gourmets.

Day 5 (today) had us off to do some grocery shopping in the morning, so we got on the road just after 9.  We continued on 54 out of the Texas panhandle and through Oklahoma’s, which is really skinny, only about 33 miles north-to-south.  The Oklahoma panhandle is just as flat an boring as Texas’, but there is some comic relief now and then.

 

In Kansas, the terrain was just about the same.  Lots of small towns, each with their minute claim to alleged fame, all of them with speed limits that slow you to a crawl.  Meade, KS, boasted it was the home of the hideout of the Dalton gang.  Wow!  From the lack of life in the city, the Daltons could probably still hide out in plain sight.

We’ve been through endless road work, but it mostly hasn’t slowed us down much.  We’ve been lucky twice at flag-controlled one-laners, arriving both times at the tail-end of the waiting cars just as they were waived on.  No wait for us!  However, there is a thing called Karma, and the third time is the charm.  Yes, the other side of the sign says STOP.  For a quarter hour.  Since we move along at 60mph, and the limit is 75, all those cars and trucks behind us were not happy chappies once we got rolling and clear of the construction zone.  Tough.

We’re now ensconced in Hutchinson, KS, at the inaptly named Melody Acres RV Park.  The only melodies we hear are the train whistles across the way.  The park is even more low key than last night’s;  grass pads, levelers needed, older systems, but clean bathrooms & showers.  And, surprise, surprise, a wifi that actually works!  Well, if you can read this post, it does.  Tomorrow, no more fun and games.  It’s back to the salt mines.  Literally.

SPRING BREAK 1: PIT STOP AT FACTORY

We’re off!  Our Spring outing will be a 2 1/2 month trip to D.C., via Indy and other points.  Our goal, after several days of prep (washing & waxing the rig, packing & loading, etc.), was to get up at 0-dark thirty and be on the road by 6am in order to beat the 40 miles of cross-LA commuting traffic.  The best-laid plans, etc.  We finally rolled out at 7:00, which is better than our usual effort.  Traffic wasn’t bad on the 10 heading east, but it sure was clogged on the westbound side.  Man, am I glad I’m through with that nonsense.  Our first stop was to be the factory in Montclair to buy a few things.  Best-laid plans once more.

We ended up buying a new CO detector, smoke detector, and propane detector as ours are all at replacement age.  Also a new fridge external display thermometer, some holding tank goop, more polyseal, and a new water filter.  Whew!  I also was convinced we were on borrowed time with our water pump.  It seems to be working fine after five years, but this is the model that has given nightmares of repeat replacements for other owners, so I didn’t want to push it.  We got a new Revolution pump, which seems to be pretty reliable according to the forum.  I was going to carry it until the old one failed, but head mechanic Vince hemmed and hawed until I got the point that it would be better to install it now and keep the old as a spare.  Easier to have him do it, anyway.  I also had him look at our air conditioner shroud.  I’ve been duct taping the multiple cracks that have appeared, without much success.  He said it was cracking all over and was very brittle.  Ok, another replacement.

We turned Vince loose on Albatross, and we wandered around, watching final decal work being done on a new rig, and inspecting the floor models.  Loni was getting ideas.  Hmmm.  Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

About two hours later, everything was ready, my checkbook was in flames, and Loni was mugging with Vince.

 

Yeah, sure.  SHE didn’t write the checks.  Finally, we were on the road for real, heading east on I-10, northeast on I-15, and then east on I-40.  Man, there is a lot of bad pavement on those roads.  I continually am amazed that the rig stays rattle-free after the pounding it gets.  Our new Michelin tires (last week’s expenditure at Costco) are pumped to the max 80 rear, 70 front, and it feels it.  I’m going to have to bleed them down tomorrow morning or we’ll have no fillings left.

Did I mention that today is Friday?  And that the yahoos are out in mass heading for Vegas?  Traffic slowed to a crawl going up the 15.  It didn’t help that a Chippie shot out from an on-ramp and started weaving across all lanes to create a traffic break.  Yup, we were first in line right behind him.  Just our luck.  He got us all slowed down to a crawl, then went full broadside across the highway to stop us completely.  Turned out a Class A motorhome had blown a left front tire, and it’s shredded carcass was a huge hazard in the middle of the highway, and the rig was over in the center divider.  While the Chippie got out and removed the tire remains, the big rig limped across the lanes into the right breakdown lane.  It’s that little white speck up ahead on the right.

The fun and games were not over.  The wind started to kick up, but not all that bad.  Once again, however, we saw flashing lights ahead and everything slowed to a crawl as cars started bailing from the right lane.  Here’s the reason:

Maybe we should have stayed home?  All of this was on the 15, which is the route to Vegas.  It was packed all the way, and we were happy to see our turnoff onto I-40 and to leave the Vegas traffic to crawl on its own.

The trip on 40 was less eventful, but still had plenty of bumps in the roadway.  We’re becoming a third world country, pothole by pothole.  At a rest stop I checked the tire pressures in all this heat.  Yikes!  94 rear, 79 fronts.  No wonder we’re jiggling along.  Just before 5:00, we pulled into the Avi Casino Resort,

which has a KOA-managed campground (center, right side in above) at a reasonable price ($26 with tax) for full hookups and cable, and a golf-course view out our front windows.  It was 96 degrees when we parked, so I got the power hooked up quickly and the air conditioner going.  We are now quite comfortable, but are about to go out in the heat in search of cheap eats at the casino.

We’re back.  The first restaurant we checked out featured Chateaubriand for two at $60.  Say what?  The next was a coffee shop place where the most sophisticated dinner was meat loaf.  The buffet had a line a mile long as it is seafood night and half the valley seems to be here.  Ah, but just next door was the Ristorante Aviano, looking just right:  not fancy, but cloth (ok, plastic, but it looked good) on the tables and a very reasonably priced pasta menu.  I had clams with angel hair, Loni had chicken with olives, mushrooms, artichokes, and peppers.  Each came with drink, salad, and spumoni ice cream;  Loni’s for 11.50, mine for 13.00.  And, surprisingly, it was all good!  At least as good as Olive Garden.  There were also warm bread-roll-sticks with two sauces to dip into, including a great garlic-oil-herb.  We are very happy campers.