Tuesday 14th July – Bastille Day on the Oregon Trail

It was the All-Stars baseball game tonight.  It was talking place in St Louis (they pronounce the last 's'), in Missouri, the state I'm presently in.  The American League beat the National League, but then they always do. 

What was really interesting was that they all wore their own uniforms, so just about every team in America (and the Toronto BlueJays) had there names out there.  Had I paid more attention, I would finally have discovered which teams play in which league.

President Obama pitched the first (ceremonial) ball.  He managed to pitch it all the way to the catcher, which is some sort of achievement.  He also wore his own uniform, a White Sox (Chicago) jacket.  It's not usual for politicians to do that sort of thing.  (Although, come to think of it, I do recall a British Cabinet Minister declaring his affections for, among other things, Chelsea Football Club).

What was even more surprising was that he sat and commented for some time in the Fox TV commentary box.  I suppose he can't choose his friends anymore, but he wanted to show he could still choose his clothes.

 

I was staying in Westport, which was where the migrants heading out on the four trails west in the middle of the nineteenth century got to choose their clothes.  I've now been to the other end of the Lewis and Clarke Trail, at Glasgow in Montana (OK, I went on to Seattle), and the Oregon Trail, at Glasgow Oregon (OK, North Bend). 

Can I claim to have been at the end of the California Trail in the Mohave?  After all, it was the Mormon settlers back then who named those funny trees "Joshua" trees.

Given the date, perhaps we ought, grudgingly, to mention the French, who developed all these trails.

Westport is now a part of Kansas City.  I chose it fairly arbitrarily on the Internet.  But it is now one of the nightspots, perhaps the nightspot of KC.  Needless to say, all these historic outfitters stores are now bars.  One of them is a bar and a brewery.  And all within crawling distance of bed.  Even a cowboy in a Stetson and riding heels could manage that.