The sky was clear and the sun bright. Only an occasional stretched-cotton wisp of a cloud interrupted an ocean of royal blue overhead.. The air was spring-like and the sun felt warm through the car glass. We avoided the interstates, and took tree lined country roads on a winding path to the Mississippi River. We stopped short of the state line at the little town of Summer Hill in Pike County, IL.
The town is so small that there is only one sign saying ”Welcome to Summer Hill” and it says the same thing on both sides. All kidding aside, there are scant few houses and even fewer buildings in this little burg, but it does offer an antique shop and the Route 54 Drive-in. This movie stop is literally in a pasture. No concrete, no gravel, just speaker poles in the grass and big yellow and white screen. People come from miles around in the warm season to watch a flick in the field. They ain’t so far back that they don’t have a web site, however. You can check them out at www.clark54drivein.com/. Our interest was in the antique shop today though.
We entered the 150 year old store through ancient metal and glass doors. The ring-a-ling of bells announced our entrance. The old wooden floor complained under our feet as we traveled aisle after aisle of shelves, looking at everything and looking for nothing in particular. There was, as you would expect, every kind of item from lanterns to quilt pieces. Books to wash boards,. Dishes of blue , green, red, and a combination thereof. I was surprised to see recent things such as lunch boxes from the time when I was a boy. Hardly antiques. Are they? Anyway, I stumbled on some “old” roadmaps from the 60’s for a great price and picked up a couple postcards from the 30’s and 40’s. Neat stuff to add to the den. Then, like Willie sang “On the Road Again”.
We ambled along and crossed the Mississippi at Louisiana, Missouri. The mighty river was low due to below average rainfall, but her wide waters pushed south on the long journey to the Gulf. The water reflected the blue sky as it passed the stony outcroppings along the shore, in no hurry today, but content to just ebb along. A flock of Sand Hill Cranes stood one-legged nearby, resting between flights and fish suppers. Cattle Egrets circled slowly below the bridge in search of a handout. A lazy day on the river it seemed as we crossed the bridge, then turned right to take Route 79 north along the west rivers edge.
Route 79 is a picturesque roller coaster ride through river bottoms and mighty hills. The black ribbon of road curves and dips, winds and climbs, on a beautiful path of travel along the Mississippi. It crosses creeks and lesser rivers that are intent on joining themselves with the boss of waters nearby. Even in Winter the wooded hills and flowing pastures, that are dotted here and there with gray weathered barns and farms, offer a striking, peaceful journey toward Mark Twains hometown. High on the top of the hills several scenic overlooks give you great photographic view of the wind river and its earthen surroundings.
On a our travel north we stop at a cemetery. There we quietly reflect on the life of a dear friend who left us too soon. We continue north and after a couple of scenic stops we find our way to Hannibal.
In Sam Clemmons’ hometown we locate a restaurant suggested by Verna Bowen, Patty’s sister. Drakes is tucked in the hillside along Route 61 and is a BBQ lovers dream. Their homemade sauce is sweet and tangy and pork is a specialty. We feast there and back across the river and home. Two hundred ad twenty three miles later we arrive back at the Chicken Ranch. Stomachs full of good food and minds full of beautiful pictures and good memories. We’ll do it again soon, but this time Patty’s drivin.
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