Day 4 – Tuesday : Carbondale to Big Lake State Park (717 km) Carbondale is well south of St Louis, so we are slightly behind schedule already. In theory we should rush out of Carbondale early in the morning to make up time. But the journey is about spending time with people, not just rushing from one tourist site to another. We spend a few precious hours extra in the morning enjoying a traditional breakfast with D and Jane before heading north.
D asks where we plan to camp tonight. Optimistically I suggest Omaha. D points out that this is one heck of a drive – he is undoubtedly right.
The other bonus of our detour to Carbondale is getting off the freeway and instead following the Mississippi north to St Louis on local roads – a much more pleasant experience. Plus, on the way we pass through Chester Illinois – the home of Popeye (or at least his creator).
Suddenly a nasty vibrating sound pierces the cab – coming from the top of the windshield. We have been driving into a headwind and something seems to have given way. Stopping at a mall we discover that Chet’s carefully designed aerofoil that deflects air from building up in the gap between the cab and camper, is now suffering from its thousands of miles of use. The lower edge has started to separate from the body of the aerofoil and is vibrating against the cab clearance lights. It is time to reach for the Duck tape Chet thoughtfully left in the camper.
We cross the Mississippi on I-255, on the southernmost edge of St Louis. The gateway arch is just about visible out of the side window, but only in profile.
Now in Missouri we head west on I-70, sitting at 60 mph in cruise control in the afternoon heat. Sally asks what all the strips of truck tire rubber are on the freeway shoulder. Five minutes after explaining, driving through Warrenton on I-70, there comes a thump, thump, bang and I see something fly off behind the truck. I assume something has come off the roof of the camper. We can’t investigate as it happened as the highway divides and by the time we can pull in we are in the no-man’s-land between the exit and entrance ramps – and I’m sure not going to cross the two exit lanes on foot to search for missing camper parts.
I walk around the truck, conscious of the big rigs passing us at 75 mph. I don’t initially spot anything and am about to assume we had simply driven over something when Sally points to the passenger-side inside rear tyre. All the tread has delaminated in one big strip, but the tyre is still at 80 PSI.
Chet has On-Star, but I don’t really want to sit around on the shoulder waiting for road service (or waiting to get hit by an 18-wheeler). I turn on the hazard lights and limp back onto the freeway, keeping the speed to 40 mph – a compromise between being so slow we risk being hit from behind, and being too fast that the remains of the tire explode. We limp onto the next junction, which seems half a continent away, and pull into a Flying J parking lot.
A quick tour on foot around the service area reveals no tyre shop, despite a large truck park. The lady in the gas station confirms this; pointing to the frame of a commercial building currently being erected – this is to be the tyre shop, but we are several months too early. However, across the freeway I can see another commercial building with a sign saying “Truck Tires” – so maybe I am in luck after all. I return to the camper and we crawl across the bridge and pull into the tyre shop. We are the only customers. I feel sorry for them. They will likely be out of business soon given the franchised competition across the freeway.
The guys in the tyre shop are very helpful. They check the spare tire, but it is starting to look past its best. Chet runs standard sized pickup truck tyres – nothing special, but they don’t have a new one in stock. They do however have a part warn available. $50 has that fitted, balanced and the old carcase disposed of. This also involves extra work because one of the supports for the fender had been torn away and need removing and a tailpipe bracket needs fixing. The fender itself is cracked, but the damage is superficial.
While there I ask them to tighten the tie-downs since we hadn’t checked them since Chet had recently re-mounted the camper and they have been rattling. I give them an extra $10 for a beer for their efforts.
This has lost us another 90 minutes, but it could easily have taken a lot longer. We definitely aren’t going to hit Omaha now.
We cruise on through the outskirts of Kansas City, now slightly worried about the state of the other tires. We refill with diesel on I-29. The GPS is clear that the campground I had selected in the morning will now be reached too late in the evening for comfort. I don’t like trying to find campgrounds and set-up camp after sunset. Time to drag out the Rand McNally road atlas and look for somewhere to camp. I look for a state park to our north, one with a tent symbol indicating camping is available. My intention is to put it into the GPS and then keep a look out for a boondocking spot along the way – we can use the campground as a backup if we don’t find somewhere free to camp. I see something that might be possible, but Sally doesn’t like the idea of camping right next to a railroad line. I like the sound of the train horn, but I would probably change my mind when woken for the third time in the middle of the night.
I needn’t have worried – as we home in on the state park – Big Lake State Park – it turns out to be a gem: Spacious, quiet, reasonably priced with a site available right next to the water and good showers close by. This is our first time dumping the tanks in Chet’s camper – not that we need to yet, but since there is water and dump facilities included in the price it makes sense to take advantage. The black tank knife valve apparently leaks a bit, so Chet has an extra screw-cap to drain it before removing the whole cover. My first time doing this I still manage to get my hands soaked. Later in the trip, after a couple more dumps, the knife valve seems to seat back further and I have less trouble with leakage. This first time using the dump station we find it takes a bit of practice to get the truck in position due to a shorter sewer hose than I am used to.
We deploy the slide and Sally gets the portable propane stove out to cook with on the provided picnic bench. In this case cooking al-fresco is the thing to do.
Chet and Janet found they no longer used their oven, so replaced it with an electric toaster oven which they do use. We on the other hand use our propane stove a lot, so Chet had kindly supplied a portable camping stove we could use inside or out.
On the site next to ours a couple camp in their car. This is one of the things I love about camping – the accessibility. You can camp in a triple-slide three-axle diesel pusher coach or in the back of your old Toyota – either way you are camping – if you can’t afford an RV, or even a decent tent, just throw some stuff from home into your car and go camping (I’ve camped in the back of a short wheelbase ex-army Land Rover, a Ford station wagon, an East German military pod on the back of a Soviet Ural truck and a curtain-side trailer from a big-rig).
