Second Day Slump (Annawan, Illinois Post)

We got off to a bit of a slow start today, but we also made a pit stop to Lake Erie, which was right down the road in the State Park where we stayed last night.  The lake was ginormous, to the point where it was hard to believe it was a lake and not an ocean.

Not much happened next, I did more biology, and I took a bit of a nap.  However, when napping it is generally a good idea to ask what state you're in when you wake up.  (Indiana).  We also came to the realization that we would be headed right into Chicago during rush hour. Based on previous knowledge, the game, "Let's drive through a major city during rush hour in an RV" is not a fun one, especially after driving for hours already.  However, we hit the time zone change at some earlier point, and so we were an hour earlier than we thought.

This about sums up our day -
Driving toward Chicago with many tractor trailer trucks on the road under a sky of puffy fluffy clouds.  

Yes, I know puffy fluffy is a very technical term for those clouds, so here is my handy cheat sheet for identifying types of clouds.

Stratus clouds are the low wispy ones.
Altostratus clouds are a little higher, but have the same wispy appearance.
Cirrus clouds are the highest up, and are as well wispy.
Cumulus clouds are those which I called puffy fluffy, they have depth to them.
If the prefix nimbo- or the word nimbus are added to any of the names, it simply is referring to a rain cloud.

After we had cleared Chicago, we found a place to stay.  I gleefully discovered it was near the Spoon River.  Spoon River is a tributary of the Illinois River.  I have wanted to see the Spoon River since I was in a production of Spoon River Anthology, a gathering of monologues from Edgar Lee Masters' collection of poems, by the same name.  These monologues tell the individual stories of residents of a fictional town, Spoon River, which is based off of Masters' hometown on a more southern part of the river.  The residents are all dead and are sharing their insights about their life from the grave, some bitter and scornful and some joyful.  I begged Dad to take me to see the river, and I got him to crack by pointing out that it was otherwise a slow blog day.  There was one condition, I had to navigate, which is not one of my strongpoints, especially when using a paper map, but I navigated us to a fishing preserve because the name looked near the head of the river, but alas, it was not so.

Here instead is a picture of Boss Lake, which was the actual water source of the fishing preserve. It was pretty, but it was not my Spoon River.

Although I was up for more searching for my river, Dad was tired from driving all day and Karen was slightly annoyed with the detour.  So, in the wise words of Karen, "Maybe the rivers fictional too."

Following the Wild River Goose-chase, I was temporarily banned from co-piloting.   

Dad did remark that it was nice to get off the highway, and that these backroads were pretty.  They also proved we are in corn country again!  

When we got to the campground we were entertained by the trees, which were vaguely like the Dr. Seuss Truffula Trees.  

Walking Timber was the task pawned off to me while Dad and Karen cooked dinner.  She dragged me all over in the campground, and we discovered the lake, hunted wabbits, and dashed between those trees above.  This lake was pretty big, but no where near the size of the last lake we camped at. (You could see to the other side of this one.)

Just one section of the lake

I got Timber to stop hunting for just a minute to pose for a selfie with me!

That's all folks! Don't forget to leave a comment, they always brighten my day! 

Buonanotte!

Amy