Emmett

Emmett is a small town with an old post office. While we didn't spend much time there, we did notice a quaint little place called the Dry Creekbed Saloon that has occasional bluegrass nights. Maybe Mom and Dad will go back and visit there sometime...

Saint Marys

Some good friends recommended that we visit Saint Marys for the annual Flint Hills Shakespeare Festival, and we're glad they did!

We started our trip by visiting the Chinese Restaurant that was closed last time we went through Silver Lake. We were pleased with the food and service -- they were quick, friendly, and very good. A few pro tips for eating here: Come early, bring cash, and if you want takeout, call it in at 3:30.

After dinner, it was time to head west for the play, which, as Myrick says, "is where a lot of people go on a stage and tell a story." Since today was Talk Like a Pirate Day, I read aloud from Treasure Island on the road from Silver Lake to St. Marys.

The festival was wonderful! There were many booths in the shady grove where it took place: Food, drinks, handmade crafts, and more. It had a very family-friendly feel, and the play (As You Like It) was great.

We left a bit early because we were tired, but not before buying the boys some bows and arrows (in keeping with the hunting theme of the play).

We would definitely like to return often in the future... this was a fantastic event.

Olsburg

Olsburg was a wonderful surprise. The city park was nice and new, with bathrooms and a wooden train. The pool looked very inviting, too. It was a great place to get out and play. It's really impressive what they have accomplished in this little town of just over 200 people.

This is probably the second most Swedish town I have ever seen, right after Lindsborg. (Let's face it -- it's hard think of anything more Swedish than a Dala Horse factory.) The people of Olsburg seem to be very proud of their Swedish heritage, and it's nice to see a community come together through shared history.

One of our favorite features at the park was the sand digger. Our 4-year-old was pretty good at working this device, and the 2-year-old showed some real promise, too.

We liked the park's soft recycled rubber tire mulch quite a bit. Our 2-year-old falls sometimes falls down when he gets over-excited, so the soft rubber was great for him.

Magen tried out the monkey bars. Here she is being awesome, swinging from bar to bar through sheer upper body strength...

Or not.

Olsburg was a great place to visit. The park would be a terrific venue for a family reunion or picnic.

Fostoria

I had never been to Fostoria before, but not for lack of trying. 

Right after I got my driver's license, I got lost trying to find this unincorporated community northeast of Manhattan. It was May Day, and I had been selected to drive my younger siblings around so they could leave May baskets on our friends' porches. Our final stop for the day was in Fostoria, about 20 miles from our home. 

I remember driving up and down Highway 13 for what seemed like ages. I'm honestly not sure how I could have missed Fostoria. My best guess is that the change from Highway 13 into Highway 16 must have made me think I'd already passed it, so I'd turn around and drive south again.

However it happened, though, it worried me so much that my stomach tied itself in a double knot. My state of mind was not helped any by the ceaseless refrain of "Are we LOST?!" from the back seat. 

About the third time I turned around, I noticed that the fuel level was very low in our old blue Chevy Cavalier. There were a few gas stations around, but none was open.

Worried about running out of gas, I finally gave up on Fostoria and found my way back to Manhattan. We rolled into the parking lot of a corner gas station right as the engine sputtered and died. I had to coast to the pump to fill 'er up.

This most recent trip to Fostoria was less eventful. We drove around the town, got out to look at this old church building, and then hurried back to the van because an enormous Rottweiler had chewed through his rope at the trucking operation next door and was showing some interest in us.

Other than that, not much to report. After 16 years, I can finally say I've been to Fostoria. Mission accomplished.

Louisville

On the road from Newbury to Louisville, we crossed Correction Road not once, not twice, but three times. I guess whatever they were trying to "Correct" was not cooperating with their efforts.


Soybean fields lined the road, peppered with occasional dried-out cornstalks left over from the last harvest. The young bean plants reached up eagerly toward the intermittent raindrops, keen to drink all they could before the long, hot July ahead.

Louisville, like so many small Kansas towns, seems a bit rundown and is losing residents. However, a few things made me think they are doing their best in the face of the grim future.

Downtown, an old school building has been transformed into a thrift shop. It's a great way to repurpose the space, and it seemed to be pretty well-stocked (though it wasn't open while we were in town).

Outside the thrift shop, there was a little park with lots of big tractor tires. It also had a dilapidated old slide in a grievous state of disrepair, but someone cared enough to block it off with orange safety fencing so adventurous children wouldn't hurt themselves on it.

And in the cemetery just outside of town, we were both impressed and amused by the number of trash barrels and signs admonishing visitors not to litter. It has to be some kind of cemetery record for number of trash barrels per square foot. Of course, the cemetery was not without its problems -- someone apparently took liberties with the orientation of a gravestone in the not-too-distant past.

All in all, Louisville wasn't in bad shape. Not too much going on, but the folks there seem to take some pride in their community.

Belvue

With a wedding and several town visits behind us, we were starting to tire as we pulled into Belvue.

As we poked around the town, I realized that I had been through it dozens of times without even knowing its name. It's funny how much you can miss when you're not really paying attention.

The best things we saw here were the boat ramp and fishing area down at the riverside, at the end of an especially bumpy dirt road. From this bluff, we could see for miles upriver and down. It was a gorgeous afternoon with a nice breeze blowing and low-hanging clouds shielding us from the sun's heat.

It was, in short, the perfect time and place for throwing rocks into the river before heading home.

Total distance today: 92.9 miles.

Westmoreland

We drove north out of Manhattan on Highway 13, over the Tuttle Creek Dam. The usually beautiful view of the lake was obscured by a thick blanket of smoke. The sun was probably probably on its way down, but we couldn't see it through the haze. Off to the northeast, a few scattered blazes still survived, nourished by dry prairie and high winds.

As we traveled, we marveled at the resilience of the grasslands. We knew that in just a few short days, the ash-covered fields around us would give way to green shoots, and that by the end of the summer, they would provide enough sustenance for the scattered herds of cattle that would roam these hills.

On our way down Highway 99 toward I-70 and home, we stopped in Westmoreland. It's the Pottawatomie County seat and was a stop on the Oregon trail. It was late, so Myrick and Matt took just a few moments to scamper around on the monument near Scott Spring. We weren't around during visiting hours at the museum complex, so we'd like to go back sometime.

Total distance today: 136 miles.