For starters, a heavily trafficked Union Pacific railroad line parallels U.S. 30 for much of the way through the state and westward into Nebraska. As I drove, freight trains became a regular presence along the Lincoln Highway.
Iowa is not flat, at least not here. Its handsome farmland spills out over a gently rolling terrain. Any road heading due west cuts across the local topography, which follows the contours of the creeks and rivers that generally run from the northwest to southeast toward the Mississippi.
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There are no mountains here for sure, but Iowa nonetheless is defined by it dramatic low-slung landscape. In parts, the farmland is like a patchwork quilt of different shades of greens and yellows.
It’s far from boring, especially in the moments when you’re cruising along at the optimal top speed — the limit is 65 mph in many sections through eastern Iowa — and the road flies over a Union Pacific train and you’re suddenly at pace or slightly faster than the parallel freight train hauling coal and grain across the state.
Iowa is a place for cloudgazing, too.
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But that all depends, I suppose, on the weather conditions. As I breezed through on Wednesday, severe storms were crossing through northern Iowa and into northern Illinois. The northern skies were dark but I was mostly in the sun. Somewhere off on the northern horizon, multiple tornadoes had touched down, including an EF3 twister that heavily damaged the landmark Cattleman’s Steak & Provisions restaurant in Belmond.
For my drive through far eastern Iowa, I primarily followed U.S. 30’s modern divided highway, but chose to take quick diversions off the highway periodically to get a good feel for what the original highway was once like. This way, I had a close-up view of farmers working their land. If you get out to stretch your legs, and I suggest you do, you can smell the earth. You pass through tiny farm towns like Clarence, which are bypassed by U.S. 30.
Going the old way, naturally, offered some surprises, especially in Linn County.
Outside of Mount Vernon, home to Cornell College, the Lincoln Highway’s signs took me off the paved road and onto a gravel one heading generally in a northwesterly direction toward Marion. I soon came across the Lincoln Highway’s Bloomington Road bridge, which served the 1913 Proclamation Route but was bypassed in the 1920s. It’s been largely forgotten since, but still in use by local traffic.
This aging truss bridge on the forgotten country lane provides a window into what traveling through Iowa was like in the early days of the Lincoln Highway. You even might get the feeling you’re driving through a Grant Wood landscape painting.