On friday I left the Cincinnati area in the early afternoon, after writing and grabbing some groceries. I found it a little difficult to leave due to traffic on the holiday weekend, and also, as I was getting onto the highway, there was a huge accident. Ambulances had a motorcyclist on a stretcher (he still had his helmet on). When I got past the ambulances, I noticed the bike... it was sandwiched between 2 cars, absolutely smooshed, and looked horrific.

I headed west from the Cincinnati area, on I-74 through Indiana. Passing into Indiana, I am back on central time. On I-74, a mini van passed me on my left, and I wasn't paying much attention to them, but they seemed to be sticking next to me on purpose, so I gave them a look, and in the back, a little girl was holding up a poster of the UConn Huskies. They must have seen my Connecticut license plates, so I gave them the thumbs up and a big smile.

So far I have seen at least 5 Hawaii license plates. They are hard to miss, they contain a big rainbow. I just find it odd that I have seen so many thus far.

When I reach Indianapolis, I transfer to I-70 which will take me through Illinois to St. Louis. In the late afternoon, I passed into Illinois, Land of Lincoln. One thing you really notice is, each state has it's own particular smell, faint but distinctive. Southern Illinois smells of manure, and I am driving past corn fields and wheat fields. Southern Florida smells like wet, Virginia smells like tobacco, Tennessee smells like smoky air.

Driving on through, I come upon the junction of I-70 and I-57, where I spy a huge cross, at least 40-50 feet high, no signs or anything, just a huge cross. Shortly thereafter, I stop quickly at a rest stop to stretch my legs, throw out some trash, and check on my car. The weather is beautiful and cool, so I realize I must camp out tonight, for the first time. Thus far, when trying to camp, it has been too rainy, or I haven't been able to find a camp that has room or that allows tenting. So I check Woodall's guide, and find a spot just down the road in St. Elmo, Illinois that looks promising.

The camp is about 3 miles off the interstate, on a country road. I pull into the place and pay $8 to camp. The folks who own the camp are an older, retired couple, I'd say in their 70's, and you can tell they just love what they do, and just love talking to all the people that come through their camp. So I chatted with them for a while about my trip and what I do. The camp is by a little pond, and there is fishing, boating and swimming. I set up my tent by the pond and walked around and said hi to some other campers.

I settled in to sleep for the night, and enjoyed the sounds and smells of camping. Frogs croaking in the pond, echoing clacks from the other side, camp fire smoke, and the cool air of the trees.

Finally, I wanted to link to this article I found on Fark the other day, entitled The Worst Mistake in the History of the Human Race.