Breakfast On The Hills (The Big Nothing Part 10)

''So where you guys headed?'' said Mike Breitbach; as he took our order at eight in the morning. We sat at a small table inside the Breitbach's Country Dining restaurant in Balltown, Iowa; glasses of fresh orange juice and nice, thick, coffee with cream by our side.

Just down the road was an amazing view of the Mississippi Valley; where we sat, breathed in the morning air, and waited for the place to open. At eight, we walked up the road and into the rather large restaurant on a small hill of the town. Inside, we stood awkwardly, three guys sat at a huge bar, reading newspapers, as one of them noticed us and ushered us into the back. Looking around, as we walked through the place, the atmosphere was amazing; the spacious dining halls adorned with local memorabilia of both the surrounding area and the restaurant itself; which has stood since 1852 and burned down twice in less than a year. 

''Umm, we're on a road trip, to find, like, um, abandoned ghost towns, in Iowa (Mr Breitbach chuckles) I'm writing a novel about it (''Really?'' says Mr Breitbach)'' I said as he gave us more cream and sugar for our coffee. Sinatra, and others of likewise genre, played in the background as we sipped our coffee. I had a ham and cheese omelet (with the works) as The Inch had a skillet. Bike riders camped outside on the patio, and wandered around but, other than that, it was only the kitchen and music that made any noise. The omelet tasted great along the thick slices of toast; sitting at the same restaurant where Jesse James sat once and owned by six generations of Breitbachs. It was very strange, to shake hands with a living embodiment of entire family legacy. It was all around as you felt the curious exchange of history in the way he shook your hand.

Part Two: Of All Places

The ensuing day was hot, the air wasn't moving much, and the land was dry as I stood over the town of Elkport....or what's left of it. Other than a small valley (that was flooded fifteen years ago), a small community center, two churches, a graveyard, and an incline with abandoned houses; that was about it. 

I walked down to the bottom of the incline to inspect the abandoned properties. The first was a wooden blacksmith shop that was built on top of a crippled concrete foundation. The bottom windows were busted but you could see downstairs where a bunch of junk was rotting. Cars slowly went up the incline, off the nearby highway, and paid no attention to me as I scoured up.

A house lied to my left, again, the weeds being taller than me and up the road had an abandoned trailer which I wasn't too daring to figure out if it was truly abandoned or the site of a statewide meth making operation, where they cut off your toes, and toss them into the batch to guarantee quality.

With Jimi Hendrix's National Anthem blasting, we followed the incline excruciatingly upwards, to a small graveyard that overlooked the local church and a nest of bald eagles; who scanned the area for remnants of rotten flesh.

Miles later, and even further into cannibal country, we stopped under a bridge in search of a saw mill I had seen online.

As we stood at the banks of a small creek looking down, trying to see if we could spot it from our location, we were stopped by a woman who explained that what we had searched for was on the land of a local junker and ''good luck'' trying to get on the land to inspect it.

We drove down the road and into the junker's property. The property was dead quiet, the front door of the house completely open, and in broad daylight. 

Shortly, a short man in an orange shirt came up and asked what I was doing there, before I could explain, he understood and laughed, saying the same thing that the woman earlier said. 

He took me to the real owner, who was behind a huge barn besides the house, who had an entire car propped up on its side by a forklift. He was busy taking bolts out of a car when he wiped his brow and spoke to me. I explained my mission and he was short; ''no''. Asking why, he explained that ''ever since pictures of the mill were posted online, they come at random hours of the night and day, all year round, and I don't want the liability''. He was a busy man, so I respected his wishes, and was just glad that he wasn't someone crazed after years of snorting gas rags and hunting down humans for sport.

Part Three: No Surprises 

A mailbox covered in overgrown weeds marked the town of Littleport; five, seemingly lived in, houses and four, completely abandoned, houses was the entire town. We drove up and down a gravel road expecting more than that, but there was nothing, fertile field and a forest was all we saw, so we drove back into the small patch of the town. 

In the middle of what was the town, was a cul-de-sac, with an old basketball hoop, hanging by threads off of a dilapidated garage, and a two story home; I quickly observed the abandoned house to my right as we drove out back into the highway, snapping pictures out the window, as dogs howled out in the nothingness. 

It seemed like some type of cult was begging to come out of the woodwork, surround The Inchmobile, and pour chicken blood all over the dash before lynching us out in the field until we were so feathered and tarred that we couldn't even feel the beatings of the crowbar against our bare backs anymore.

Finally, even more deeper inside moonshine country, we stood at the remains of Donnan; population of seven in 1990. The town sign was on someone's property; small, old, powerlines stood against their replacements, and the road led to nowhere...''but is this pie good'' said The Inch as he shoved the gooey remains of the pie, he had gotten earlier that morning from Breitbach's, down his throat and followed up with a cigarette that tasted amazing in the heat.

With three hours of daylight remaining, The Inch cut the trip short, saying ''oooh myyy, like dude, seriously, we couldn't have done that on one of the other days?...we're in northeast Iowa and we're going all the way to the ****** bottom of the state...and then back up to the middle'’. I felt defeated.