Historic Route 66 in Missouri

Our excursion of Route 66 began in the heart of the Ozarks on Roubidoux Creek.
 
The rain had persisted through much of the day and everything had dampened. The water that flowed beneath the arches of the bridge had swollen higher than normal. Although the limbs on the trees had yet to render their leaves, the foliage on the ground grew lush.
 
The Cherokee camped here in 1839 on their long march to Oklahoma, otherwise known as the Trail of Tears.  Nearby Roubidoux Spring discharges a large amount of fresh water, making the site ideal for camping.  Reverend Daniel Butrick, who traveled with the group, recorded: “We traveled about 12 miles to a settlement . . . on the banks of a beautiful stream, named Rubedoo. Here we had a delightful place, on the bank of the river convenient to wood and water.”
 
We were here with may daughter, Kaitlyn, who had just graduated Basic Training at nearby Fort Leonard Wood. She was still attired in her dress blues and was very careful as to where she placed her finely polished shoes. We spent an hour here, walking on a trail to the springs and then downriver to the bridge where we crossed beneath and found a fisherman with his three-legged dog.
 

Route 66 passes over Roubidoux Creek in the Ozarks of Missouri.

Route 66 continues east through Waynesville and past a sculpture of a frog on the hillside, created from an existing boulder. It enters St. Robert where it crosses Interstate 44 and draws close to the military base of Fort Leonard Wood.
 
The Uranus Fudge Factory is located on the east side of St. Robert and is one of the most bizarre places I have ever been. The entire lot is filled with old cars and structures painted in bright colors to attract the passerby, typical of many Route 66 stops in the country. What is not typical—although memorable—is the general store at the west end of the lot.
 

As soon as you walk in, your are welcomed by a chorus of, “Welcome to Uranus!” echoed three times, in high-pitched tones by the three ladies behind the cashier's desk. In front of the desk is a short replica of an alien. The entire store is full of merchandise that seems out-of-this-world. Immediately you realize that here they take the term “Uranus”seriously, and everything in the store revolves around butt-puns.
 
They sell t-shirts, hoodies, taffy in two-dozen flavors, Trump figurines, Jesus mugs, postcards, candy made of bugs. And, of course, it is no accident that Uranus is a fudge factory.
 
Jenelle couldn't stop laughing while in the store. She was insistent on buying herself a hoodie with print on the front: “Union Fudge Packers Union. Local #2. Proudly packing fudge in Uranus since 2015.”
 
When we had paid for our goods and were leaving the store, the lady gave me my receipt and asked, “How did you like Uranus?”
 
“I liked it quite a bit,” I replied.
 
“Everyone else likes Uranus, too” she shot back without blinking an eye. I didn't know how to respond. As we walked out the door I heard her chime out, “Thanks for picking Uranus!”
 

Uranus Fudge Factory.

Back in the real world we continued on Route 66 for a couple more miles where we crossed the Big Piney River (which flows north and soon empties into the Gasconade River, which empties into the Missouri). We took a dirt road on our right that brought us to a tight bend in the river known as the Devil's Elbow. Here there is a small tavern and a picturesque bridge that crosses the river. There are houses scattered throughout the dense growth of trees. Everything was green and lush.
 
The road makes a loop and eventually connects back with the highway. We pulled over at a small lookout point where one can see a railroad bridge that crosses the river. We had the view to ourselves and admired the daffodils that grew along the stone railing that flanked the road.
 

Bridge over the Big Piney River.

BBQ pit at the Devil's Elbow.

This was as far as we could travel with Kaitlyn. Jenelle and I continued the next morning east through the steep rolling hills of the Ozarks. The route traverses several communities and occasionally passes from one side of Interstate 44 to the other. Near Rolla the steep hills give way to gentler slopes. After passing through St. James we found several vineyards. Nearby is a winery museum. The name of the town is Rosati.
 
I pulled over to get a picture of one of the vineyards. Being early April, none of the vines were growing leaves, let alone grapes. I got out of the car and finessed my way around the muddy road that led into the vineyard when a man in a minivan pulled alongside and rolled down his window. He was the owner and was baffled as to why anyone would be out here taking pictures of barren vines.
 
We had a little conversation and he explained that the original settlers to this particular area were Italian and they are the ones who planted the vineyards. Later, the Welch company came in and bought them out and replaced many of the vines with concord grapes. But in the 1990's the Welch company decided it was too far out of the way and sold it back to the locals. Now, they have a hard time making a living on it. The man will wholesale some of the grapes, but also sells a lot from a street-stand up the road. Harvest time is between August and November.
 

Vineyard near Rosati, Missouri.

Just a few miles down the road is another inconspicuous town-site. There isn't much here other than farmhouses, and of course, Fanning Outpost. This is a smaller version of the Uranus Fudge Factory. They have a modest collection of souvenirs, with food up front and animal feed in back. Outside is the world's second largest rocking chair.
 
Jenellle and I were the only people in the store. They offered us a sample of fudge. We enjoyed perusing their selection of soda, which came in about 100 different flavors such as apple pie, peanut butter and jelly, bacon with chocolate, butter, worm ooze, Martian poop, monster mucus, buffalo wings, Stalinade, and Fidel Castro's Havana Banana.
 

Fanning Outpost is home to the second largest rocking chair in the world (shown on the left side).

One thing I enjoyed on our drive was unexpectedly coming upon a cemetery. We saw several cemeteries as we drove Route 66, but the smaller ones caught my eye. We stopped at three of them, each unique in character. Meramec Hills Memorial in Fanning was distinguished by a large cross in the center of the cemetery. All the headstones were flat and I noticed that the font on many of them was of a Gothic nature. It was an interesting place that deserved much more than the five minutes we gave it.
 

St. James Veteran's Cemetery.

Meramec Hills Memorial in Fanning, Missouri.

Hill Cemetery in Bourbon, Missouri.

Just down the road we entered the quaint town of Cuba. We parked the car and spent time strolling around the block. Cuba is famous for the murals that are painted on many of the buildings. They depict scenes of old fashioned street peddlers, pedestrians, shop-fronts, and Cuba's role in the Civil War.
 

The small town of Cuba is famous for having many murals.

Stone walls of Holy Cross Catholic Church in Cuba.

We stopped in St. Clair to grab a bite to eat. We were told that we had to try BBQ in Missouri, so we figured that now was our chance. On the corner of Main Street and Kitchell Avenue is a small eatery by the name of Bootheel BBQ and Diner. We walked in and found we were the only ones there. I think the waitress was the daughter of the owner and she kindly let us choose any table we wanted. With her suggestion I chose the pork steak, which ended up being by far the biggest pork steak I'd ever eaten. The meat came with two choices of sides and a slice of bread that appeared to come from a store-bought bag.
 
All the food was really good, but nothing over the top. The family was very friendly and soon they all sat down at another table and ate their lunch. We had a small conversation and learned that they didn't know much at all about Utah.
 

Pork steak at Bootheel BBQ in St. Clair.

Time was running low and we had to get to St. Louis. Our final experience with Route 66 came in the form of a detour near the Bourbeuse River (which empties into the Meremec, which empties into the Mississippi). We drove a few miles onto “Highway O”, and then onto “Old Highway O.” There was nothing special here to report, other than it was the rural atmosphere that typified our entire experience on Route 66. We saw modular homes, an old broken down school bus and a stone quarry. A thickly wooded forest grew from the houses down to the river. ♠

Someone's dream home during another era on Route 66 in Missouri.