Off to the Cotton Patch, Days 2 & 3: A Journey of Ups, Downs, & Mistaken Identity

After that bracing breakfast, I hit the road.  Little did I know that this was going to be one long, agonizing drive.

West Dundee is only 34 miles away from Chicago and I made the astonishing discovery that Chicago area drivers are apparently training for NASCAR.  Illinois is doing a ton of construction on the interstate and the speed limit was only supposed to be 55 miles an hour.  Based on my observations, I came to the conclusion that the speed limit was apparently just a suggestion because I was the only person who seemed to be obeying the limit.  Every other car was just blitzing by me.

To say I was nervous was an understatement.  The combination of the heavy construction, massive traffic, and battalion of speedsters actually caused me to feel knuckle whitening, heart palpitating, panic.  I had to take a couple of deep breaths to actually bring my nerves back under control.  This may be the norm for big city drivers, but this was my first experience driving through a really big metro area and it was a bit of a shock.

My frustrations were further fueled by the fact that I had to watch out for the toll booths.  I accidentally missed my first toll booth on Halsted Street.  The signs had said to keep to the right so I did.  Right before the booth, the road opened up even further to the right.  It happened so suddenly that I wasn’t able to change lanes and soared right through the I-Pass.  Fortunately, I was able to go online later that night and pay the fee I missed.

After I got out of the Chicago area, the traffic slowed to more normal speeds, but the speed limit stayed at 55 miles an hour.  Even worse, when I finally crossed the border into Indiana, I found that they were still doing the construction being done when I last passed through in 2008.  Traffic was so congested that it ground to a halt and I plodded along at a rate that had snails making fun of me.

It took 3.5 hours to make the journey from West Dundee to the Michigan border where I finally was able to resume the normal speed limit of 70 miles an hour.  The drive became a lot more pleasant after that. . .until I reached Holland, MI.

Traffic was going along pretty well and I saw a Wal-Mart Supercenter in the distance.  I needed a few toiletries and decided I’d just get them now.  After buying my supplies, I got back on the road and traffic ground to a halt again!  Apparently the road I was on was the main thoroughfare for a few cities and it was now rush hour.

What should have been a four hour journey ended up being a 6.5 hour drudgery and I arrived in Whitehall, MI much, much later than intended.  I was tired, frazzled, and starved when I finally pulled up to the White Swan Bed and Breakfast.

Then things began looking up.

The first break I caught that day was that the Howmet Playhouse where I would watch and review Cotton Patch Gospel was literally right across the street from the bed and breakfast.  The second break was that I met Cathy Russell, the sweet and kindly owner of the White Swan.

The White Swan

Cathy showed me to my home away from home, the Jasmine Room.  The soft white of the room and the plush looking bed seemed to scream comfort and I felt myself begin to loosen up.  I think Cathy noticed my weariness as she asked if I had eaten and I told her that my journey woes prevented me from having anything since breakfast.  She prepared a plate of Michigan blueberries, cheese, and sweet potato Triscuits along with a glass of white wine.  I stepped onto the screened in porch and began to read and munch.  I felt better almost all at once.

The Jasmine Room

Living Room

After getting some much needed food into my stomach I began my explorations.  The White Swan is a circa 1884 Queen Anne house.  It’s very homey and has a pleasant lived-in quality well suited to an inn.  After I finished taking pictures, I freshened up and walked across the street to enjoy Cotton Patch Gospel.

Howmet Playhouse

And enjoy it, I did.  In fact, you can read the review right here.

After the show, I returned to the inn and darn near collapsed into bed and didn’t wake until the next day.

***

When I awoke today, I was ravenous and ready for a rousing meal.  Cathy served up a dish of mixed fruit and cream, a vegetable quiche, homemade sausage, and orange juice.  With my stomach full, I was ready to begin exploring the area.

Mixed fruit and cream

Vegetable quiche and homemade sausage

My first stop of the day was at the Country Dairy.  This family owned dairy farm has been in the Van Gunst family for 5 generations and it credits their great dairy products to their happy cows.  No, that isn’t a joke.  The Van Gunsts take pride that their 1,400 head of cattle have great lives.  Their lives consist of milking, birthing, sleeping, and eating 100 pounds of food a day which is the secret to great milk.

The Country Dairy

Happy cows happily eating lunch to produce happy milk

It was a very interesting tour as I watched how milk goes from the cow to the carton, went into a cheese locker, visited a bovine maternity ward, and saw a group of newborn calves (even petted a few).  I even learned about the value of good breeding.  The number one rated polled Hereford was born at Country Dairy and he and another cow sold for a combined $1.2 million dollars.

Inside the calf barn

When the tour ended, we were treated to free samples of cheddar cheese (the best I’ve ever tasted) and chocolate milk.  This milk is farm fresh which means no fat has been skimmed from it.  Whole milk has got nothing on farm fresh milk.  This moo juice was so tasty and rich that I actually bought a pint for myself.

The dairy also boasts a small restaurant which feeds more people than any other eatery in the region.  Trucks come three times a week to restock the food items not produced by the dairy itself.

After my tour, I drove around a bit to see what there was to see.  After viewing a few sights, I returned to the inn and took a long walk around the area and stopped to enjoy a vanilla shake at Dairy Treat (supplied by Country Dairy products).  I then returned to my room to relax for a little bit.

I had intended to attend worship services at St James Catholic Church, but my travel woes returned when Mapquest epically failed me.  The directions I got brought me to downtown Muskegon where I found no church.  I went to a nearby hotel where the desk clerk informed me that the church was actually in Montague.  Another clerk informed me there was another church three blocks up the road.  I dashed off to it, but found they did not hold Saturday night services.

I returned to the White Swan and found that St James was a mere two miles from the inn.  I could have walked there and back several times in the time I spent driving to and from Muskegon.  Thankfully, they have an 8:30am service tomorrow so I can worship in the morning, have breakfast, and hit the road.

I decided to go Montague and have dinner at the Old Channel Inn.  This restaurant is very popular and was jammed to capacity when I arrived.  After a short wait, I was led to a table when I decided to have the charbroiled Alaskan salmon with a side of Creole corn and salad.  Now I was wearing a suit which is crucial to the story.

Old Channel Inn

I took off my coat so I could prepare a salad for myself.  When I returned to my table, I said grace and started eating.  A few minutes later a gentleman came over to my table and said, “I have an embarrassing question to ask you.  Are you a priest?”

“No,” I replied, somewhat baffled.

“I’ll tell you why I asked that in a moment,” said the man as he walked away.

He returned a few minutes later and said, “You’re probably wondering why I asked if you were a priest.”

“Was it because you saw me praying?”

“No.  I’m the owner of this place and there was a woman who saw you, asked for me and said, ‘I saw that young man cross himself.  I think he’s a priest and I want to buy his meal.”

A gentle poke would have felled me at that point.  This is where my suit comes into play.  I was wearing a black dress shirt under my sport coat and my arms would have been blocking my yellow tie while I prayed.  The generous stranger mistook my dress shirt for clerical garb.

I don’t even know what this mysterious woman looks like, but I’d certainly like to thank her for paying for my supper.  It made the rough day I’d had yesterday and my travel woes today vanish in the breeze.

I returned to the White Swan to sip a 7-Up while I wrote this story.  Now it’s about time to hit the hay before I hit the road tomorrow.

McNeill Stone Mansion: Oskaloosa’s Fortress of Solitude

My eyes fell upon this bed and breakfast while I was preparing my hunt list and once they did, I immediately moved it to the top of my visitation list and I certainly am glad I did so.  My stay at the McNeill Stone Mansion has proved to be one of my most enjoyable visits to date.

This trip was blessed from the start.  On a day that was supposed to be cloudy and cool, I ended up getting a proper spring day, full of sunshine and warmth.  I arrived in Oskaloosa a little earlier than I intended, but found that they had a college (William Penn University) nearby.  I wandered around the tiny campus for a little bit and even managed to get a small workout in as I did two miles on the indoor track in the school’s fitness center.

From there I attended worship services at St Mary’s.  I was fortunate to be attending the school’s First Communion service and it warmed my heart to see these children begin another step on their journey with God.  Most interesting, the children actually prepared the communion wafers used at this service.  They were just made out of wheat and water and Father Jeff said they would be different from traditional wafers.

He was quite right in that aspect, but I liked the message he tied it to after Communion.  Father Jeff said that people’s faces seemed to indicate, “Whoa!  That was different” and he said people are just like that when they allow Jesus into their hearts.  And he hoped that people would see us and say, “Whoa!  He or she is different.”  I’ve never heard the message of salvation so simply and aptly put.  Right on, Father Jeff!!

After church, I headed over to the McNeill Stone Mansion which is an imposing edifice at the end of a block.  I was heartily greeted by Ginny Walker who gave me a tour of the inn.  Ginny really knew her history, showing me articles and photos from when the mansion was originally built up until the present day.  At one point, the home had been abandoned for 18 years and was buried beneath an overgrowth of trees until Ginny and her husband, Gary, bought it and spent 7 years restoring it to its original splendor as pictured below.

Dining Room

Foyer

Living Room

 

I stayed in the Far East Room which was the mansion’s guest room when originally built.

This room was a palace.  By far, the biggest room I have ever stayed at a bed and breakfast and one of the nicest, as well.

Once I had settled in and relaxed for a few hours, I headed into town and enjoyed a meal at Tasos’ Steakhouse.  This must be a popular restaurant as it was jammed to the rafters.  Fortunately, I was able to be seated very quickly.  I decided to try Tasos’ House Ribeye sautéed with onions, mushrooms, and green peppers.  It was one of the best cuts of meat I have had in a while.  It was cooked to absolute perfection and I took most of it to go for my lunch today.

It was about 9pm when I got back to the inn so I drew a hot bath in one of the deepest bathtubs I have ever seen and nearly fell asleep as I was so relaxed.  As I prepared for bed, I realized I had forgotten the small fan I travel with for the white noise I use to help me fall asleep.  Fortunately, the room had an electric fireplace which I turned on and the illusory flames lulled me into a deep and restful slumber.

Upon awaking the next morning, I headed down to the dining room for one of the most enjoyable breakfast experiences I’ve had in a bit.  After three straight reviews where I was the only guest at the bed and breakfast, I actually had some company.  I had the privilege of meeting Dave and Monica Settle of St Charles, MO who were visiting the McNeill Stone Mansion for their 30th anniversary.  Happy Anniversary!!  So aside from the outstanding food, I also had the pleasure of some wonderful conversation.

Breakfast was a grand affair, beginning with a dish of fruit topped off with a yogurt.  I enjoyed several bites, but knew I had to save stomach capacity for the other courses.  After the fruit, was a cinnamon roll topped with almonds that was moist and delicious and practically melted in my mouth.  Afterwards was the main course of egg casserole which looked like a quiche stuffed with ham, cheese, and other tasty items along with some bacon for a side dish.

When breakfast had been eaten, Ginny surprised the Settles with a little yellow pudding cake she had made for their anniversary.  And if you’re wondering, yes, the Settles were kind enough to share a bit of their cake with me.  It was delicious, btw.

Before I knew it, 75 minutes had passed and I knew I  had to hurry if I were going to write up this adventure before I left.

If you find yourself in Oskaloosa, make a point of staying here.  You’ll be treated to a truly delightful pair of hosts, some excellent food, and brilliant conversation.  Even better, if you like classic cars, start up a conversation with Gary as he has a national reputation for restoring them.

Wayfarer to a Wedding–Day 4: Take the Long Way Home

Under the peaceful crackling of the electric fireplace and the soft glow of the Christmas lights, I slept the sleep of the peaceful and exhausted.  I awoke the next morning to a winter wonderland.  Belmond got a bit of the severe weather plaguing the southeastern part of Iowa.  It was only a few inches, but it certainly put me in the Christmas mood.

I spent the early morning hours organizing some photos on Facebook and then it was time for a hot, filling breakfast on this fine and frosty morning.  Along with my OJ and milk, Connie started my meal with a lemon roll.  I perused the morning paper as I savored each tasty mouthful.  A small dish of banana followed shortly thereafter and culminated in a plate of French Toast with a side of sausage links.  As usual, the breakfast was too much for my appetite, so I wrapped up some of the toast and returned to my room where I wrote yesterday’s article.

Soon it was time to head to church so I brushed the powdery snow off of my car, loaded my things, settled my bill, and headed over to St Francis Xavier Catholic Church.  I really enjoyed this church.  I was warmly welcomed inside and it had an older quality to it that reminded me of my old parish of Holy Rosary when I lived in Fort Dodge, IA.

After the service, it was time to make the journey home.  Since the weather wasn’t bad on my way home, I took an alternate route through Storm Lake, IA.  My grandparents lived in the little town of Storm Lake from before I was born until about 2000 when they moved to Papillion, NE.  Both have passed away and are buried in Storm Lake and I wanted to stop and pay my respects and wander around the place.

It was bitingly cold outside, but I walked around my grandparents’ old neighborhood and took some photos of their old parish of St Mary’s and their old home.  I meandered past a couple of old playgrounds that I often played at in my childhood.  The equipment had changed, but I still remembered the days when one of the playgrounds had a great jungle gym and pole where I often pretended to be Bruce Wayne getting the call from Commissioner Gordon about the latest villain infesting Gotham City.  To the Batpole!!  I would slide down the pole to my waiting Batcycle (OK, my grandfather’s old bicycle) and zoom off into the streets as Batman, the Caped Crusader!!

When I felt good and frozen, I hurried back to my car and drove up the city’s namesake, Storm Lake.  I wandered out onto the jetty and looked at solid sheet of ice that was the lake.  I walked down the halls of memory once more as I remembered all of the times I had been kicked off that jetty by my family members in my childhood.  I come from a family of fishermen on my mom’s side and I was a very energetic child who lacked the patience for fishing.  I often amused myself by tossing rocks into the lake, marveling at the splish and splash they made.  That’s when I’d get the boot because I was scaring the fish.  I always thought it was unfair because Grandpa always sneezed with the subtlety of a nuclear explosion and undoubtedly scared off every fish within a 10 mile radius.

After returning from my mental perambulations, I continued my drive home.  It was nearly 2pm and I was tired and hungry so I hoped to stop in Early, IA and have a late lunch at the Crossroads Restaurant.  I was in for a mild disappointment as the restaurant had closed at 1:30 that day to begin the Christmas holiday.  I drove for another hour and stopped in Denison, IA at Cronk’s Restaurant where a patty melt and a side of fries restored enough strength for me to finish my long drive home.

I’d like to take my moment to wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas.  I’ll be starting a new series of articles in a little over two weeks when I journey to the wilds of Arizona.