Francis Brennan

In his new book, A Gentleman Abroad: Francis Brennan’s Travel Tales, the much-loved hotelier recounts his journeys across the globe and the adventures and mishaps that ensue along the way. From Vietnam to the Vatican, India to Australia, it is a grand tou

Gets his kicks, sort of, on Route 66

Ihave only just returned from the trip of a lifetime, driving the legendary Route 66 in an RV motorhome. I have read about this iconic road many times, and, of course, I remember the famous Nat King Cole song (Get Your

Kicks on) Route 66. The song was written by a man called Bobby Troup, who packed his car and headed west along the famous route to make his name in Hollywood, just as so many had before him. As you can imagine, I was absolutely delighted when my nieces and nephews gave me a present of this trip, because, in spite of all my travelling, I was dying to get a sense of the real America, driving west to the Pacific Ocean.

Built in 1926, this road became known as America’s Main Street, or the Mother Road and is 3,940km in length, running from Chicago through the states of Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and finally into California, where the route ends on Santa Monica pier on the shores of the Pacific. Along the way, it throws up a variety of landscapes, from the flat plains of the Midwest, to the desert landscapes of Flagstaff and curious town names like Cuba, Lebanon, Chelsea, Yukon, Clinton, Groom, Vega, Grants, Scallop, Winslow, Essex, Barstow and Beverley Hills until finally, the vast Pacific opens up in front of you.

I could write a whole book on the trip, but for the purposes of this little essay, I’m going to offer just a few highlights of my own three weeks spent on the road: they may not always feature on other people’s itineraries, but I think that they offer a real flavour of this all-American experience, with a few little diversions to visit places of interest along the way.

I began in Chicago, Illinois, where I and my travelling companion, Frank, picked up our RV, and had a good nose around its roomy interior. It was very spacious with two double-bed sized bunks, one behind the driving seats and one that pulled out of a little shelf above them. It also had all mod cons, from a cooker and fridge to ample storage space for me to store the bright orange camping pots and pans that one of my nieces had given me for the trip. Now, I feel that I should add here that while the RV is a classic and comfortable way to drive Route 66, it certainly isn’t the cheapest. RVs eat petrol — the Americans don’t do diesel or any biofuels — and we found

that a day’s driving cost a pricey $160. Our RV was part of the package, but I think that if you’re doing it yourself and are in a little group, car hire and motels might well be cheaper. Heading south from Chicago sees you on the start of the Route and Springfield, Illinois, the state capital.

Just north of Springfield lies Funks Grove, the next stop for Frank and myself. It’s the home of Funks Grove Maple Syrup, but it’s also of great interest to Irish visitors, because of the Celtic cross built there to commemorate a group of Irish emigrants. The monument is in a lovely wooded area and its inscription tells you that these ‘more than fifty souls’ helped to build the Chicago and Alton Railroad ‘far from the old homes of their hearts, yet forever short of the new homes of their hopes’.

The story goes that when these men died, the bodies of these poor souls were simply piled up by the rail tracks as no one would take charge of burying them. That is, until a local farmer of German ancestry, by the name of Funk-Stubblefield, offered to bury them in a mass grave on his own farm, which later became a cemetery. I learned that the Funks were no ordinary farming family but one of the wealthiest in Illinois and Isaac Funk was a friend of none other than Abraham Lincoln.

The Irish emigrant story came to people’s attention in the late 1980s and the McLean County Historical Society researched it and decided that it was time to commemorate the event with the fine inscription. While we were there admiring the monument, a lovely lady came up to us, asking if we were Irish. “It’s so nice to see Irish people come by,” she said. “Because they’d never be remembered otherwise.” I found it very moving to think of these 50 souls, some of whom might be my ancestors or yours, travelling over the Atlantic to the Midwest, in search of a new life, only to die there. We were very moved by it.

Wonder of engineering

Travelling south of Funk’s Grove, you come to St Louis, Missouri, on the banks of the great Mississippi River, with all of the history that city offers. I was delighted to visit it because of my old friend, Shirley Dooley, whose funeral I had tried too hard to attend, and was warmly welcomed by her daughter, Peggy and son-in-law, Tony.

In St Louis, be sure to visit the Gateway Arch, built to commemorate the great push westwards in the 19th Century, even if only to experience the unbelievable lift system to get you to the top. It’s brilliant — as you might expect a lift in an arch to be. You sit into a kind of pod, your knees touching your fellow passengers, and this pod zig-zags up the arch, like the steps of stairs, until it reaches the top. A wonder of engineering.

This area has undergone a huge regeneration, with the road being dropped to run below ground and a lovely new park being built in time for the July 4, 2018 celebrations. We also visited Ted Drewes famous frozen-custard shop, which is legendary, with a huge queue outside. You can’t call it ice cream, though, even if I couldn’t tell the difference, or Ted goes mad! Whatever it was, it was delicious, and I got a Ted Drewes T-shirt as a souvenir.

On to Branson, Missouri, we drove. It has to be seen to be believed! It’s a resort town in the Ozarks, a picturesque area of forest and lakes that stretches across Missouri, Oklahoma and Arkansas. My friend Frank declared Branson to be “like Bray on steroids!” I mean this in a good way, that it’s a mixture of entertainment and pizazz.

This resort grew out of humble beginnings when the singer Andy Williams, of Moon River fame, got tired of touring and decided he wanted to find a place where he could perform year-round. For some reason, he picked Branson, this little town in Missouri, and built a theatre there, aptly called the Moon River Theatre. It quickly became a destination spot and the highlight of Andy Williams’ performing year was his famous Christmas special, broadcast live from Branson.

I suppose it’d be a bit like the Rose of Tralee mixed with the Eurovision Song Contest — huge.

“The RV is a classic and comfortable way to drive Route 66, it certainly isn’t the cheapest. RVs eat petrol”