The Songs Of The River
A non-driving day! We want to have lunch overlooking the ‘finest view in the midwest’ so we ask some Grafton Power Co guys the way to the ‘finest view in the midwest’ and they offer us a lift. Strangely and confusingly for them we decide to walk up the hill to the famous view – and I know we’ll be the only two-legged creatures moving. People actually applaud us on summiting the one mile high tump. They drive to the toilet here, but they put us to shame with politeness and laughing at virtually all my jokes. Oh yeah, and a four bedroom house in five acres of land costs around £100,000. We burn watching the river and enjoy every moment of Grafton IL before starting the inevitable pub-crawl… there are very few bars in Grafton and I’m breaking all my own pompous rules about not getting fantastically drunk before a driving day; but in our defence tomorrow is only 100 miles so off we jolly-well go. It’ll be fine!
Our laser-guided beer radar helps us to find the right bar. We are bloody good at this, having travelled a lot in the last 25 years both of us know exactly what to do.
We find the bar. It has no name, it is the size of most people’s bathrooms and the barmaid is (initially) spectacularly unfriendly. This must be the the place. Within one hour I am hugging the barmaid whilst we take pictures of each other, and the only other client is waltzing with Ashly as I shout about guns and healthcare. It’s going well. Ashly and I take turns in staggering outside to fall over – never at the same time as we must attempt to keep our dignity. “Remember Garberville” we shout meaninglessly; a reference to the fateful night when we purchased huge amounts of opium, lost it all, then danced with large breasted women and radical Native Americans. (See Trips)
We get back to the hotel. As usual I stand outside and listen to the river.
