Little RV on the Prairie

Part I

10/14/2020

I have barely slept. At one point in the night I thought there was a crowd of townies outside with pitchforks and flaming torches, rocking our camper back and forth trying to upend us for intruding on their land. Did that happen? Was it a dream, or my mind playing tricks on me? Might it have just been streetlamps glaring through the windows, and the relentless wind tossing the trailer around? I can’t say for sure, but it’s time to get out of here…. before there IS a confrontation regarding our squatting outside of this campground. I take a minute to tune in to my body and acknowledge that I do not feel super, as a matter of fact I feel like absolute doo- doo…… but the only option is to put my big girl panties on, and get this show on the road…..literally.

       “How would you like to live out your farm fantasy?” Matt says cheerily… Oh wow, he must really be feeling guilty for how yesterday ended…… Its barely 7:00 am and we have a reservation for an Airbnb tonight; evidently, he couldn’t sleep either. “It’s a 1500 acre working farm with an original farmhouse in Kanorado, KS, how does that sound?”   Well, that sounds remarkable, and totally worth burying the animosity regarding how the previous day ended. This guy knows what he’s doing, am I right?  Kanorado is right before the Colorado state line, so today’s drive will take us across the entirety of Kansas. I am oddly excited for this portion of the journey. I don’t know if the intrigue stems from childhood Wizard of Oz obsessions, permanently ingrained scenes from Laura Ingles Wilders’ books, the unfamiliarity of flat, never-ending farmland, a curiosity around tumbleweeds… or just the foreign idea of such rural living…  whatever may be the culprit, my interest is peaked.  We manage to pack up and get away unnoticed from this random campground where we spent a few midnight hours trespassing, Phew.  Its back to the highway…. 70 West…. We traded out 64 W back in St. Louis.

  For the first time on this voyage, I recognize that I am beginning to grow weary of the road. My body aches, I’m dehydrated, my head throbs, I’m exhausted, my GI system is so upset with me about my road diet… the days are so long and full of highs and lows….. a constant vacillation between adventure and banal… night after night of light and restless sleep, always in a state of fight or flight.  I am not willing to admit to this out loud, but I can feel it simmering under the surface. It’s all starting to catch up to me, but for now, I’m going to bury it.

         The scenery does not disappoint. It is exactly as I imagined… wide open, flat farmland as far as the eye can see. The wind is vicious and is tossing the Shadow Cruiser all over the road. The worst is going under an overpass…. The twerk from the wind funneling under the bridge nearly pushes the whole rig right off the road. Matt makes the same guttural noise every time it happens, a reverberation of dread bubbling up from his inner depths. He experiments with different methods as each bridge approaches, trying figure what counter action produces the best result in keeping the car on the road. We have about 100 chances to try different tactics.  It feels a little like we are riding a tilta-whirl at the local pop up fair. The wind is undoubtedly a force to be reconned with here. I find myself scanning the horizon for the dreadful tentacle of a tornado reaching down from the hazy gray sky above…..surely these are the right conditions for such an event. At any moment Dorothy’s house is going to drop from the heavens….

Everything we pass is tattered and torn to shreds. There are barbed wire fences lining the highways… I think to keep the tumbleweeds off the road, and possibly to delineate the endless farmland from the highway. Not only are there tumble weeds piled high on the interior side of the fence, but sadly, trash and plastic hung up in the wire and dismally flailing in the persistent wind.  The lady who owns the farmhouse we are headed to said that a crazy dust storm had just come through the area several days prior, with winds gusting 60-70mph, covering everything in a thick layer of dust and causing major destruction…. I imagine it’s the aftermath of this storm that we are witnessing.  Wide open land; no trees or hills, nothing to provide shelter from the blaring sun or unremitting wind.  It seems to me you must be made of stone to survive in this environment, or at least be wearing thick, leather skin. I can’t believe Pa gave up life at the little house in the big woods, in exchange for pioneering these brutal prairies with his young family. I wonder what all the brave souls that came out to settle the great west thought when they hit these severe conditions…. traversing the wild, sweeping prairies in their simple wagons. Like wtf did we get ourselves into?

The one stop I want to make on this leg of the journey is the OZ Museum in Wamego, KS. This is a magical one for sure. Who doesn’t LOVE Wizard of OZ.?? I know it added some whimsy to my childhood. The big kids have only seen the movie a few times, but they love the characters and are elated by the idea of a visit. Wamego is a quintessential old west town, consisting of a main street, lined on either side with old buildings that house every business this little town needs to survive. Everything is the same shade as the gray sand and dust that surrounds it. Smack in the middle of all the dullness, is the vibrantly colored OZ museum. It is the familiar contrast also found in the movie.. things start off sepia toned and then transition into the vivacious, colorful land of OZ. The museum is splendid….exhibit after exhibit of all things Wizard of Oz…. AND all the other characters and stories written by L. Frank Baum. This man was a innovator of eccentric, enchanting, modernized fairytales. For 1900, he put some pretty wild stuff out there. He has a large anthology of literary creations, much of which I wasn’t aware of. It is astounding to see the likenesses of each character and original costumes up close. We have an exciting time visiting with the scarecrow, cowardly lion, Dorothy and ToTo, the munchkins, etc, etc,. It is tricky keeping Jack out of the décor, he wants to run in the poppy fields and hug on Glinda the Good Witch of the South. We obviously can’t leave without a pair of ruby red slippers for Isabelle, a magic broomstick for Henry (which ultimately became a sword), and a new book for Jack….I picked up a 100^th anniversary publication of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz which I am tickled about, and a DVD of Return to OZ. Now THAT movie really left an impression on my malleable young brain. I have seen flashes from the totally bizarre scenes of this movie play out in my conscious throughout my life, and I always have had a hard time identifying exactly where they came from….what movie WAS that? Well here it is before my eyes! I recognize the characters on the front immediately. Mystery solved, it’s Return to Oz.. and it really is a trippy movie…..I’m going to save it for Colorado. Wink, wink.

         With our museum visit complete, we pop in next door at Toto’s TacOZ… a Wizard of OZ bedazzled, Midwest, tex-mex taco joint.  Jack is finding himself in an unstable existence, being tired and hungry….and the whole lunch takes just a tad too long if ya know what I mean. To add to the misery, he has a massive poop that is disrupting everyone’s dining experience. So, we get everyone fed as quick as possible and back out on the street to see where the Yellow Brick Road might take us… The answer is nowhere really, just down a back ally, but it is worth the walk to be able to say we’ve been down the Yellow Brick Road! 

Our journey to the farm continues with pretty much the same scenery as described previously. Our timing in the year, is spot on to catch the farmers in the middle of harvest. Combine harvesters, tractors, and all types of supersized farm equipment are out in droves, rounding up the season’s crops. I find it poignant to observe the final component of such an involved, labored over process… these farmers finally getting to reap the benefits of their hard work over the past months or year of growing and maintaining their crops. Just managing my tiny garden outback gives me such an appreciation for what must go into operating a successful farm. I cannot help but wonder what kind of chemicals they tainted this precious food with in the process, but that’s a soapbox for another day. Very cool that we get to catch this region of America during harvest, just super awesome. Farmers are the real MVPs…….. Another favorite visual from the day are the farm trucks, miles off over yonder, speeding down dusty, dirt roads. It reminds me of road runner, kicking up a never ending trail of dust that hides it from view, nothing but a blurred streak in the distance.

        We are racing the clock, per usual. Where we are headed is in the middle of nowhere… it doesn’t even have an actual address.. just a “go straight when the road curves at about mile 13”…. and we do not want to be looking for this place in the dark. The wind starts whipping even harder as we approach our exit. This new road is unpaved and dusty, so it’s our turn to look like road runner kicking up a trail of earth particles behind us. We have about 14 miles to go, away from the highway,  pulling the topsy-turvey Shadow Cruiser, and dusk is setting in. The kids are right on schedule with their psychosis and so the tension in the car is inevitably rising. Matt is the one coming unhinged this time; I think the full day of white-knuckled driving and the impending darkness is pushing him over the edge. We drive for what seems like FOREVER…. at least it’s a gorgeous setting. A spectacular pastel sky takes over as the sun sets behind the far-reaching plains. The bulky farm machines are still hard at work in the fields, as the sun fades away, their lights starting to twinkle on. Other than that, there is absolutely NOTHING out here. Not ONE other house, no gas station, definitely no grocery store or hospital facilities anywhere nearby.  I take this as another opportunity to talk to the kids about safety. If y’all make a senseless mistake and get hurt out here, you are shit out of luck… the hospital is hours away. The words rattle my own cage as I say them out loud.

We finally lay eyes on our home for the night, and from the outside it looks just precious.… exactly what it is advertised to be… an old farmhouse on acres and acres of land. The anarchy within the car has reached its climax. The wild and disorderly sensation conjured up in the truck cab is amplified as we jump out and immerse ourselves in the freezing temperatures and gale force winds. (The only thing I can relate the feeling of this wind too, is a cat. 1 or 2. storm back home on the east coast.) I grab the kids by their little hands, we put our heads down to the wind, and make a run for the house before a twister has time to reach down and snatch us up. The stimulation from the sounds, sights, and extreme feels is almost overwhelming. I am cautious with each step… making sure we don’t suddenly get swept up and carried away. We make it to the front door, and with the wind at our backs, burst in with an explosive force. The juxtaposition of the quiet, calm within the house, and the swirling chaos outside is instantly eerie. We pause, in a moment of eye watering silence, and take in our new surroundings. The kids then tear off to explore the house, poking their heads in to each room trying to see what mysterious scene there is to behold…. And I am right behind them… This place is OLD. There are two ancient furnaces on the main floor, a recently renovated kitchen, and a spine-chilling, old-fashioned set of stairs leading to the second floor. The kids and I skulk up the stairs to check out the bedrooms. Each is flawlessly antiqued with old furniture, quilted bedspreads, and with floors made of some type of floral patterned material that I’ve never seen before. There is a tiny room at the end of the hallway with a desk and old typewriter in it. The lights are all lightbulbs with a pull string… I mean it could certainly be argued we are on the set of a movie. I pride myself on loving old homes, I enjoy FEELING the history in a place… a sensation that registers deep in your soul….. but I can’t shake the inkling that this place is spooked. I am not going to give in to it, because I am desperate for a night in a bed, within a home that is solidly rooted to the ground. Not to mention we could all use a hot shower…… I put on a brave face so the kids don’t catch a whiff of my unease… that would be terrible. We head back downstairs right about the time Matt is coming through the back door. He has pulled the RV around back, close enough that we can plug it in and open things up. He does a once over of the house and immediately heads back outside……hmmmmm.

The kids and I chill inside a little longer, not willing to face the elements to reach the RV again. My plan is for showers, dinner prepared in the kitchen, and bedtime. When we do venture out of the house, we find that mother nature has hit the off switch for the wind…. Enough of that she says. It’s gone, and now things are unnaturally calm and quiet. Its like we are in another place entirely. What the hell happened? Did the wind run out of breath? I’m not going to complain, I wasn’t sure how we were going to manage going back and forth from the house and camper in those conditions. The kids head back to the RV, they are done with this old farmhouse….. they want to watch Wizard of Oz. Matt is busy setting up the trailer, so I decide to carry some stuff into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. I am not feeling great about being in this place alone, but I am not going to admit this to anyone. I am trying to keep my wits about me and get dinner made, so I offer up a little greeting of peaceful intentions to whomever might be listening…. or watching… and carry on. It’s a wonderful farmhouse kitchen, and I am enjoying preparing food in such a luxuriously large space. Matt finally sticks his head in the backdoor to inform me that this house, is in fact, haunted………. Now, I do not take that statement lightly….. Matt has a history of some convincing spirit encounters as a young lad, and he usually picks up on the feel of a place, houses in particular. What the @#$% man?? Don’t say that shit to me! I’m in here by myself cooking dinner?!?!?! AND I want to sleep in a damn bed tonight!!!

I can barely convince the family to come inside to eat dinner. There is a collective “no way” coming from the group. Absolutely all of them reject the notion of sleeping in this house, they are perfectly fine in the camper….. so…. No big beds…. No showers…. No solid shelter from the wind. Well, that’s fine with me really, I am not trying to wake up to some freaky shit going down in this haunted farmhouse. The place lit me up when I first walked in too, I just was trying to not let fear win. The owner had also told us that this was land that belonged to the natives, and that you can find arrowheads in the dried up riverbed right next to the house. This place just seems ripe for some paranormal activity. Naturally, I start chugging wine as I clean up dinner.

With the wind vanished, the dark has set in, motionless and quiet. The kids are happily watching Wizard of Oz, so Matt and I try to enjoy some adult outdoorsing. Just as we settle into our chairs to stare up at the glorious sky full of stars, Timber takes off and begins to ferociously bark somewhere in the near distance…. she charges off the way she does if something unknown is approaching the family. Its an alarming exodus into the dark, and I can feel my adrenaline start to pump… Matt charges into the camper and returns with a pistol. What the actual #$%$. I had no idea he had that thing with us all this time?!?!. I’m not really a gun person, but in this instance I don’t think its a bad idea to have protection with us. My already fragile nerves are completely shattered as he heads off into the darkness behind Timber. I stand alone in the cold and shadowy night, wondering what could possibly happen next. I just decide to keep guard in front of the camper until whatever is causing the disturbance is handled. From somewhere in the distance a loud pterodactyl sound pierces the quiet. Timber starts her barking again and at the same time a large bird of prey swoops down from a low tree branch to land on the well house about 30 feet from where I’m standing. Wow. You sure don’t see that every day. Matt and Timber reappear, Matt excitedly telling me about the hawk or owl that is flying around…. Yup, yup, saw it… it literally swooped in front of my face…my guess is its an owl.. but I can’t be sure because of the dark. Owls are spirit animals … I see you universe, this is freaking amazing, and again a little spooky….. We determine there is a nest of some sort built on this well structure by the house.. There are actually two birds that continue short, localized flights… each time accompanied by a prehistoric screech. It only goes on for about 15 more minutes … and then its silent, they are gone. I feel bad really that we have disturbed their habitat, but Matt and I appreciate the encounter so much.

With that drama settled, we next set our sights on the barns. There are at least 5 or 6 additional buildings on this property; old barns, garages, storage sheds. Timber seems to have spotted something, so we follow her over to the entrance of a shed. We catch a glimpse of movement in the back corner, and I shine my headlamp directly on a skunk disappearing into a wood pile. Doesn’t take long to figure out it gave us a little warning spray. I mean wow, swooped by a large bird of prey and sprayed by a skunk in a matter of minutes. We are on a role!!!! Call me crazy, but I love this, everything about it. Being this close to animal life of any kind is exhilarating.

At this point, Isabelle has joined us outside, realizing we were no longer sitting right next to the camper anymore. She wants in on the action, so we head to the next barn to creep around and see what might be hiding inside. Lurking around at night with flashlights is creepy no matter what age you are.. without a doubt. I expect Isabelle to balk as we start to nudge the barn door open, but she is right beside me every step of the way. I crack the door just a wee bit and teach her how to scan up down and all around with her flashlight before we go any further.. Nothing in this one but an old 4- wheeler… but it’s a spectacularly dilapidated, old, weathered barn with plenty to offer for observation. We take a couple minutes to look around, realize its getting quite cold, and decide to had back… Matt had already bailed and was back at the camper. The boys have also immerged, looking for reassurance that they are safe and protected in this wild, new place. Well, I guess that’s enough action for one night. We gaze at the stars a little longer and then head into the camper for the night. Between the haunted house, the fact that we are inhabiting ancient native territory, the exotic local wild life, and the extreme weather conditions…..I’m not thinking there will be a whole lot of sleep this night either.. But, I feel so alive in this instant, in this environment, and I am nothing but grateful for the experience. I am so happy to have our little RV on the prairie.

The exploration of our farm continues tomorrow with some really cool stuff. I will be back with Part II as soon as I can.  The pictures of the house were taken the next morning… I couldn’t muster the courage to go back upstairs to take pictures at night….