Beginning of the Westward Journey
The van packed and ready to takeoff from Alton
In the beginning hours of June 8th, we all meet at the Milnor’s house for a send off breakfast. The coffee and bagels from St. Louis Bread Co. was a perfect starting meal for the trip. As all of us gathered, even parents, we all discussed how happy and excited we were to be starting this trip. Around 8:45, we all said our goodbyes and departed Alton with the hopes of making it into central Nebraska for the night. We began the trek with Reed driving the first three hours, Sam the next three, and Ben for the last three. Going through the town of Columbia, Missouri, we finally figured out the trip song. “Going Up the Country,” by Canned Heat.
As Kansas City came into view, all of us were trying to get directions to The Little Blue Trace Trail. We thought we would come across a large trail head with a monument, but in turn got directed behind a Cold Stone Creamery. We found a small plaque that had the trail on it. We stopped for a quick photo op and continued on. As we were getting hungry, we decided to stop for some Kansas City barbecue. Reed asked for Joe Laughlin’s opinion on the best in town. He recommended Joe’s Barbecue in the gas station in Kansas. After a long morning of driving, Joe’s hit the spot.
Ben at the Little Blue Trace Trailhead in Independence, Missouri. This was the beginning of several westward trails utilized by pioneers, including the Oregon Trail.
Soon Kansas City was behind us and next on the list was St. Joseph, Missouri, where the Pony Express had begun. The short hour drive had brought us to the old stables that had been made into a museum. As we got there, we only had an hour to look around. The nice lady behind the counter started the thirteen minute documentary and told us we could stay after they closed. Once the short film was over we stepped into the day and the life of a Pony Express rider. As we walked through the museum, we learned more and more about the fastest way to send mail in 1860 and 1861.
As we left St. Joseph, the great state of Nebraska was going to be our stopping point for the night. With Ben driving and me navigating. We soon decided to stop in Gibbons, Nebraska, at a small state park called Windmill State Park just off the highway. Once we set up camp next to a small lake, we feasted our eyes on the swimming lake. We approached the lake at 9:30 and dove in for a quick dip after the long day of driving. Our trip motto was said the night before dunking our heading in to the cold Nebraska water. “No regrets!”
The historical designation plaque at our campsite in Gibbons, Nebraska.