Colorado 2024 Day Two

 Yoder, Kansas

I woke before the alarm sounded and before the sun showed itself. Last night after an incredible meal at the Bandana BBQ restaurant, walking distance from the Pear Tree Inn, St Louis, we all enjoyed brisket, turkey, burnt ends and whatever else our palates desired.  Since it was close to 9pm Ohio time I thought it prudent to restrain my own hearty appetite. It was an epic fail; my loaded baked potato and side-salad proved to be enough for two people and in spite of my best efforts and the mouth-watering fare, I left half of it on my plate.

The whole bus load was so tired we all disappeared into our very nice hotel rooms without delay.  No card games materialized, or if they did we weren’t awake to join.  I showered and collapsed on a very inviting mattress, falling asleep in minutes.  I woke shortly after to see a bare, hairy leg rising toward the ceiling from somewhere on the floor beside the bed.  It startled me into semi-alertness and I asked Paul what in the world he is doing.

“I thought you were asleep!” he said and I think I scared him too.  He said his sciatica was threatening so he was staving it off with therapist-recommended stretches.  I sank back into bed and was promptly asleep again, never finding out when Paul finished his calisthenics.  He looked pretty functional this morning so it must have worked.

After a continental breakfast in the hotel we boarded the bus for another travel day headed west.  We hope to arrive in Yoder, Kansas in time for supper.  Lunch was a pleasant affair at Red Robin in Olathe, KS.  After naps on the bus, all except for Laverne, our driver, and me who was writing this, we spent time passing around the mic, sharing stories about our lives.

An early arrival at our hotel with a half hour to freshen up and we re-boarded the bus for a tour of Yoder, Kansas.  We picked up Myron, our Amish tour guide, an auctioneer by trade, and he gave us an interesting history on the area as we drove slowly through the country roads and city streets. 

The first Amish moved into the area in the late 1800s and farmed the land until the US army moved in and took away much of the “ground” as Myron called it.  Four Amish church districts were decimated as they left their confiscated fields for other states in which to start over.  Years later the army abandoned the area moving to what is now Fort Riley. The practical Amish farmers who have returned to these plains make use of the cement airstrips crisscrossing their fields, a perfect place to keep the huge round bales of hay produced on these acres and acres of flat, uniform, unvarying landscape.

It’s easy to see why crop farmers would find these flatlands ideal for their purposes but the sameness, the wide open exposure, the unchanging view stretching for miles, make me feel like an exposed bug, vulnerable and unprotected.  I prefer the rolling hills of Holmes County or even the sheer mountain peaks of Appalachia but then I’m not dependant on the land to make my living.  We passed a herd of “Oreo cows” - black on both ends and white in the middle.  Fascinating and comical, they did indeed look like chocolate cookies filled with white cream frosting.

We passed through the streets of Yoder, a typical tiny town with neat-as-a-pin streets, a burger joint, a thrift store and several small retail shops.  A few blocks of residential buildings and we were suddenly in a different place where silos, granaries, and elevators dominated the landscape.  A collection of neat, nondescript buildings lay at the foot of a huge elevator, a wheel turning slowly at the top, methodically filling rail cars with salt, 24/7 our tour guide said.  One of the buildings housed the elevators that take the tourists down into the mines. We passed a huge cement structure called the Half-Mile Wheat Elevator.  As its name indicates it is a half mile long, a collection of over 1000 silos, filled with wheat.  18.2 million bushels.

Cargill, the turkey giant, has a massive elevator complex on the outskirts of town as well. We passed so many types of elevators and storage complexes I couldn’t write their descriptions fast enough.  Prairie dogs poked their heads out of grassy patches of “ground” and semis rolled past headed to their various pick-up places among all the granaries.  Railroad tracks, dozens of them side by side, led to and from the salt mines.  Forget Texas, it appears everything is big in Kansas too.  And the unending flatness!  One can see for miles in every direction with a constant wind blowing, no hills around to interfere with its course.  Scrubby grasses, lots of brown, the occasional wash, and very few trees.

Without warning a Walmart, a Lowes, and every chain restaurant and retail outlet normally present in any US midsize city sprang into view.  When we left Yoder and entered Hutchinson, I don’t know.  It almost felt like they were adjoining. With all the granaries and silos, it was impossible to determine where the country left off and the city began. In front of the Walmart, in a grassy strip between the parking lot and the four lane highway, hundreds of prairie dog mounds filled the area.  Myron told us the city of Hutchinson is very protective of its prairie dogs, although I fail to see why.  They looked like potential pests to me.  And the farmers feel no love for them either.  Their holes cause injury to cows and horses when they step into them unintentionally.

We crossed a river on the edge of Hutchinson and entered South Hutchinson.  The two cities run together except for the dividing river line but I noticed fewer elevators and granaries and more manufacturing in South Hutchinson.  Just as suddenly as we entered the urban sprawl we were back to grass covered land on both sides of the road.  To our left a massive refinery was visible with hundreds and hundreds of railcars on miles of parallel railroad tracks moving refined oil out and across the country.  Hutchinson has around 60,000 residents with a staggering amount of industry spread across the miles of flatlands in and around it.

Kansas is rated third in the nation for its crop farming acreage. As for dairy, one area farm alone milks 17,000 registered Holsteins. And then there’s the slaughter houses with thousands of cattle prepped for the freezer every day.  The sheer scale of all this made my head almost spin. 

Supper was waiting for us at the Amish Community Building in Yoder, Kansas.  Like a taste of home, the Swiss steaks drowning in gravy, creamy mashed potatoes, hot green beans, and fresh salad were followed with a selection of delicious cream pies, all of it made by the local Amish ladies and served with welcoming hospitality.  How in the world am I going to fit into my clothes for the next two weeks?