Myron and Byron

Forest City, IA – It’s almost a giddy feeling having so much space to move around in, here at the Knights Inn Lodge in Forest City.  After three months in our compact little motor home, we have a two-room suite, and we can actually not see each other for several minutes at a time!

When we pulled away this morning, we headed north on Interstate 35 toward the Iowa state line, passing several construction crews at work. Most of the time this just meant we had to squeeze from two lanes to one for a certain distance, but at one point we actually had to make a detour along a secondary highway for several miles.

It was rather pleasant driving through small villages and past farms. At one intersection we saw a black carriage hitched to a frisky black horse and driven by an Amish girl, dressed in a long black skirt, cape and black bonnet.  She looked a bit stressed, trying to keep the horse under control as a large semi truck roared past along a road that doesn’t normally see vehicles that big.

By the time our detour got us back to the Interstate, we’d crossed the state line into Iowa. We were a bit anxious that we might have missed the state visitor center, but luckily we hadn’t. Inside, we found a state map and other good information, and struck up a conversation at the desk with Myron, who is a retired truck driver born and bred in Iowa.  It was interesting to hear him speak passionately about his state’s natural beauty.

On Myron’s computer screen was an online live video of an eagle’s nest. He said he’d been watching it all morning, waiting for the mother eagle to get up so he could see the babies, and just as he said it, mama eagle did just that.  It was delightful to see two fuzzy, wobbly eaglets and their shell-clad sibling as yet unhatched.  She tenderly ripped tiny bits of flesh from a fish that papa eagle had delivered to the nest and fed them to the hungry chicks.

Smoke was billowing into the sky across the way from the visitor center when we stepped outside after saying goodbye to Myron. A farmer was burning the dry grass from his field and we were close enough to see the orange flames eating away at the stubble. At least in this area, the land is not tinder-dry, so this practice is not as dangerous as it is in the drought-ridden areas where we’ve been.

As we approached Forest City, we passed a huge wind farm with dozens of enormous turbines spread over several acres. Val pulled over and got out of the RV so he could listen to the windmills; he’d heard people complain about their noise and wanted to find out what they were talking about. To us, there didn’t seem to be much noise at all, but they sure looked big up close.

We’re staying at the same inn we stayed at in 2011 when we flew down here to pick up our new RV.  The Winnebago factory where it was made is across the highway, and the dealer just down the road, so it’s a convenient spot. Byron, the owner, found our particulars in the computer database and welcomed us back. We’re looking forward to having a couple of small repairs done to the RV before we move on.