Wednesday 12th August 2009 – A Green Place

It is on American Highways that you get the real sense of the spaciousness of the place. If it's a divided highway, the central division is wide enough not to require crash barriers. And the shoulder has an emergency lane, and quite a bit of spare land along the side. Usually stretching off as far as the eye can see.

The surface is usually made of concrete. So driving along it has a similar feel to old railway lines, as the tires regularly slap the joins between the sections. Along Iowa 27, the road up from Mount Pleasant to Waterloo, a fair amount is being updated with asphalt.

You often hear, in books and films, Americans refer to the highway as the "blacktop", but where I've been, it's mostly been grey. I'm told the concrete is susceptible to serious damage in high temperatures (and I experienced that in Arizona), so perhaps further south they use more asphalt. Concrete roads certainly crack a lot.

One of the joys I find in travelling he highways is there's almost always a choice of public radio to listen to, with at least one talk and one classical station. FM stations only last twenty to fifty miles, but when one starts to fade away, another has usually appeared nearby.

I went straight through Waterloo, and on six miles up US 63 to get this Glasgow over with. From Multimap satellite pictures, it appears to be a notional point in the middle of a field.

You probably know that America, for the purposes of land ownership, is divided into mile squares. They're grouped into six-mile squares, known as 'congressional townships'. This township is known as Mount Vernon. The mile squares are known as 'sections'. I've told Dulcie the exact co-ordinates of this Glasgow. There are gravel roads around the sections here. When we get to the appropriate point on the gravel road, Dulcie silently mouths the words "Off Road".

It is a field of corn. I contemplate continuing on foot, but then I remember it's the Glorious Twelfth: I don't want some toff mistaking me for a partridge. Anyway, almost all the movies I've seen where someone goes into a cornfield, they end up regretting it.

So I just took a quick picture from the road:

[6304]

I think Glasgow used to be dead ahead, just about where that line of trees is. Not exactly 'dear', but certainly a 'green place'. ("Glasgow" is thought to be derived from Gaelic words meaning "a dear green place")

There is a house at the south end of the trees. I contemplated knocking and asking if I could walk up, but then I thought what I'd think if the roles were reversed, and decided against it.

I cruised round Waterloo for a bit, and sussed out an area of motels and bars: all my needs catered for. Well, there was also, I noticed later that night, a 'Gentlemen's Club'. But I'm old and wise enough to know that Gentlemen's Clubs are never worth the price, even when they're free. I passed it later, when it was emptying out, and there was not a gentleman in sight (or, for that matter, a lady, grown-up or otherwise).