The greening of the highway

SOMEWHERE in Kansas—The farther away we traveled from New Mexico, the greener it became.

Weeds taking over a highway

Our route out of the Land of Enchantment took us through Clayton, where we stopped briefly for a bite to eat at the old Hotel Eklund. Our former neighbors had taken ownership of the place a few years earlier, and they were surprised to see us stroll through the lobby. New Mexico legislator Sen. Tim Keller had scheduled a pre-election campaign stop there as well, so we enjoyed a final taste of New Mexico red chile as the Senator was courted by lobbyists seeking to change the economic development fortunes of the depressed and dry region.

A while later we traveled a stretch of some of the most decrepit and lonely road we’d ever seen in New Mexico. Despite the lack of moisture, healthy green weeds were encroaching on the shoulder of the highway as Mother Nature struggled to wrestle back what mankind had stolen from her. Soon the cardboard colored landscape began to soften somewhat. Wisps of green began to take hold among the stalks of dry brown failure, and we knew we had reached Kansas.

The house of the old Dalton Gang

Our travels in the Sunflower State took us along the path of the old Santa Fe Trail, the Mormon Trail and then later, the Lewis and Clark Trail. Out here in Meade, Kansas, we stumbled upon a fine little  barbecue joint called the Smoke Hoss.  With bellies full of smoked pig, we searched for the hideout of the old Dalton Gang—the fearsome train and bank robbers who swore they’d outdo Jesse James. Though the Dalton escape tunnel was closed for the day, we still managed to get a picture of the outlaw gang's house.

A little ways past that blood-streaked landmark, we came across a town unlike any other we had seen in Kansas so far.

Instead of being dotted with small square farm houses and a strip of drab main street, Greensburg, Kansas, was punctuated with new hip-looking houses with solar panels and energy producing windmills. The town’s main street was a redeveloped strip of tasteful shops and buildings. The modern stone-and-glass architecture was easy on the eyes and definitely incongruous to the rest of the Midwest.

We drove down the refurbished area with awe and wonder as we searched for the Big Well—the community’s tourist draw, and reportedly the largest hand-dug well in the United States. Across the street from the Big Well, we encountered a marvelous building made entirely of glass. The panes surrounded huge wooden timbers.

The Big Well, left, seen though sculpture

“What kind of place is this?” I wondered. “Is it some funky community that was taken over by artists?”

We would learn a day later that Greensburg had literally been wiped off the map in 2007 by a giant tornado. The mile-wide funnel cloud had obliterated every structure except the grain elevator and killed more than a dozen people. The former community of 1,600 was transformed to rubble in an afternoon. Many of the residents fled and never came back.

But the 700 people who now live in the community decided to rebuild Greensburg as a “Green” community. Modern houses capitalize on alternative energy sources and everything in town makes a nod toward sustainability. Like that strip of land in New Mexico that had been asphalted over, Greensburg is slowly sprouting out of catastrophe to rise again from the fertile dirt.

There are surprises and wonders to be found everywhere.

See you on down the road.