June 29 FOR SALE

4:55 am arrives way too soon; it's grey skies again and the west wind is still blowing. More free miles ahead! Since coming north from the St. Croix River, the ag fields have been replaced by mixed deciduous forests (a combination of deciduous trees: maples, oaks, sumacs, ashes, aspens and conifers: firs, pines and larches) It's an outdoorsperson's playground up here in the northwoods of Wisconsin with all the lakes and trails. I opt for small county roads today to get me into the heart of lake country and pass thru the Lac Courte Oreilles Indian Reservation (could this be the Cut Ear Reservation?) The roads are lined with orange Hawkweed, white Daisies, yellow Buttercups, pink Clover, and purple Lupines. It's also very economically depressed up here with many boardups, closed businesses and properties for sale.

By afternoon, and in need of a refreshment, I unfortuneately choose to stop at the Draper Tavern. Inside this tiny, dimly lit and dilapidated structure, I find 6 chain-smoking barflies and one smiling bartender, all blabbing away at 1:40 pm about some tourist out on the road replacing a tire on his boat trailer that had just exploded, littering the road with tire rubber. Having just plowed my way through the same tire parts littering "my" shoulder, I had an inroad into this rediculous group conversation, so I didn't have to drink my Coke alone. More awkwardly (you gotta picture one fit-as-heck biker in tight nylon amongst 7 doughy, ugly rednecks in dirty bluejeans) the conversation turned to my trip, why I would want to do such a thing and how I could afford the time and $$ involved. Let's just say that I did not say what I wanted to say, which was something like "what are all you unmotivated losers doing wasting an entire afternoon talking about absolutely nothing, all the while smoking yourselves to death". I believe the 30 minute adventure into the "other side" ended for me with the line "let us all have the freedom to chase our obsessions", and I was off down the road faster than you can say "see ya later Draper"!
But depression has its rewards and the Mason Motel in Park Falls, at $32 for the night, proves to be a neat, clean deal. Plus I found a marked down apple pie at the one grocery store, with crumble topping, for $2.50 to go in the pie panier, you know, just in case...Plus the library was open late and so this blog lives on...

June 28 New Friends

Early to bed, early to rise, gets a cyclist across the bridge into Wisconsin and to the St. Croix Cafe in time for the #3 B'fast combo early bird special. (I never was very good at poetry). At the cafe, I ask about the Gandy Dancer bike path out of town and, after much discussion among the locals, a concensus is reached that it is "up the hill". They are indeed correct and I soon find myself grinding slowly along a flat, cinder track, another example of a "rails to trails" project. A local dog walker tells me of a black bear cub he just saw. Soon after that, I meet Chris and Katie from Tucson, visiting family members who live nearby, and we decide to meet up again in 20 miles for lunch in Frederic. Though the bike path continued north, I jump onto parallel SR 35 and whiz north to meet my new friends. Lunch and chats in the Frederic Bakery follow, and we are joined by Mark, Katie's brother from Poland. Thank you, Chris and Katie for the lunch treat and all the photos! Was great to spend some time together!
At Siren, we turn east, and with the help of the continued westerly wind, reach Spooner directly after an easy 71 miles. As a Subway vege-sub slides down the sandwich hole, washed down by a 24 oz. Miller (in a can), I think about all the wonderfully friendly and giving people I have met, especially in the last few days. You have really made the trip for me!!!

June 27 Taylor Falls on the Ste.Croix River

It's always a treat to cycle out of a city early in the morning, beating all that traffic you had to fight through the afternoon before when entering. The remains of last night's rain lay in puddles in St. Cloud and the skies are grey with temps in the 60s, another big change from yesterday. A convenient westerly breeze, and I know what to do with that>> sit up tall and straight and float! SR 95 eastward takes us through Duelm, Glendorado, Princeton, Pinebrook, and to Cambridge for lunch, passing more corn and soybean fields, broken only by the occasional small lake and cattail wetland. A bald eagle and young doe look up as I whiz by. The pecan pie slowly disappears as the miles add. I happen upon a bike store in Cambridge and pick up new rear flasher lights and chain lube.
Just east, I meet Raymond and Bryanda, who are heading north to canoe, along the road at a route detour and we get in a serious 40 minute chat, specifcally about declining local animal life in Minnesota, and in general about how disconnected many people are from their environment. On the latter topic, I am in complete agreement; so much reliance on mechanization and power engines, and very little use of the human body, in recreation and in work. I have never seen so many riding lawnmowers as I have seen in Minnesota. Monstrous power boats are hauled long distances to fish small lakes. Bus size RVs pull SUVs which pull more power boats, with a shiny, unused bicycle hanging uselessly on back. Underexercised men in oversized pickup trucks, hauling ATVs, fly by me all day long. On and on, disconnected from their bodies, disconnected from their land. What madness, what desperation!
In a small measure of redemption, and while all vehicular traffic is diverted, I am allowed to run some 6 miles of newly rolled, unlined pavement, and like the proud hound in his master's pickup truk, I ride right down the middle of the smooth, black expanse all alone. Hee-Haw! Taylor Falls on the St. Croix River is reached at 4:30, but not, of course, before the daily choco-redemption-shake. The Pines Motel sits neatly next to the river in this quaint, slightly touristic town. Taylor Falls was an important and strategic stopping point for upriver barges in the late 1800s, and the place where overland travel started in the area due to the upstream rapids. Today the rapids still exist but a hydroelectric dam has been built upstream.
Feeling the heat and the cumulative miles of the last few days, dinner is foregone and Im asleep at 7:30 pm. Passed 2300 miles today.

June 26 Prairie Porches and Pecan Pie

Sun's hot early today, and I'm off in a T-shirt at 7 am (normally T-shirt time is 9 am). Early fishermen wandering around Starbuck with bait pails at the ready. Take SR 55 southeast into a breeze thru Sedan and to Brooten, where I NEED to stop and eat. I happen into the Prairie Porches Cafe, and upon entering this quaintly adorned (reminds me of my Granny's kitchen) and fine aroma-ed (what's that- good coffee?), there are 2 ladies in the kitchen doing the final spicing on vats of potato salad and macaroni salad. "Can I have a taste?" , I blurted out. Well, sampling turns into bowls of and then into lunch (crabmeat on croissant with rhubarb cobbler) and then into 2 hours of across-the-board, good-natured chatting with proprieter Debbie P , all washed down with 3 cups of soul rejuvenating (yes, good) coffee. Debbie has lived locally for 18 years, and we talked of many things as if we were longtime friends; associations with disfunctional friends, the struggling local economy from undercutting by "bigbox" stores, our rural childhoods, and international struggles about which we have strong opinions yet feel helpless to affect.

Well, it's 12:30, getting hot and I need to move on. Thank you, Debbie, for the very enjoyable visit. It's folks like you that have made this trip wonderfull. And thank you for lunch! 7 miles later in Belgrade, The Red Onion Ice Cream stand stops me and forces me to down a choco shake. As I turn NE on SR 23 in Paynesville, I spy a lovely table of homemade baked goods being (wo)manned by Neva Miller. Unfortuneately, she only has whole pies, thus I am forced to purchase an entire pecan pie and devour half as we chat. (I now firmly believe that every long distance biker needs to keep an emergency fruit pie in one panier (or would that be pie-nier?)

It's gotta be 90 degrees by now as I pass thru Roscoe and stop at Cold Springs. The weekend traffic is building as I approach St. Cloud. As I down a (sodium free) Gatorade outside a convenience store, Dan, a local carpenter taking his family of 10 (!) out to a friend's farm for the weekend, strolls over and we shoptalk and triptalk a bit and he wishes me luck. As we part, I think I hear another person yearning to ride a bike on such a journey someday. At least he would have many options for persons to drive the sagwag!

To avoid traffic, we take the quieter Rte. 2 north to St. Joseph before the final sprint on SR 75 into busy St. Cloud. A handfull of grapes save me from "bonking" and the (big green, neon fish) logo of Super8 (they have now employed me for direct endorsing) welcomes me.
Hot day today!
Ankles shrinking!

June 25 Super Swell Me

Whoa! My lower legs are swollen up and look horrible. What's the deal?

A quick call to the Group Health Consulting Nurse makes us stop and think about...my diet! Turns out that I have been exceeding the 2400 mg of recommended daily sodium intake (and by a wide margin) of late, resulting in fluid retention. What do you mean I can't eat french fries and chips, and salty, processed foods all day, washed down with half a dozen soft drinks??? Just because that's all the food I've encountered for the last 1000 miles...

Well, I can still push down the pedals painfree, so in the still early morning air, we cross the last few miles of South Dakota and enter Minnesota at Browns Valley. Some sort of platting symmetry is in effect here and every 7 miles we reach a town>> Beardsley, Barry, Graceville, Johnson, Chokio, Alberta, Cyrus, and finally Morris (for a quick pizza (14", low sodium version, of course!) and 3 lemonades. A gleaming metal complex of grain silos provides some midday relief from the hot sun. About all I remember about this stretch is that, in the morning, the corn was on the right and the soybeans on the left. The next time I noticed, the soybeans were on my right and the corn on my left. Attention to this sort of trip detail is vital; I can just imagine awakening from a lunchtime nap and heading off in the wrong direction. I also noticed that the white pelicans were on the right in the afternoon... Sure is hot....
Brindil and I have coordinated our breathing during these hot afternoon finishes, and we pant together the 20 final miles into Starbuck, a simple resort town, popular for lake fishing, and full of people walking around with bait pails and Supersized Biggulps. I claim our spot at the Cedar Inn and right down the road, claim my Choco-Blizzard (sodium free) at the convenient DQ. And no, there was no coffee shop in Starbuck (I know you were wondering) but the town does claim about every other ammenity, according to the enormous list of international symbols posted on the welcome billboard. The nurse told me to put my feet up, so I think I will (for about 10 hours...

PS The song lyric from yesterday was from 'Wooden Ships" by Crosby, Stills, and Nash circa 1970. Anyone get it?

June 24 YES, We have NO vinegar

So hard to leave the palacial Comfort Inn...

But there is a fair wind blowing warm out of the west over my shoulder, guess I'll set a course and go... (who can name the tune from which this line was stolen?? Answer revealed tomorrow)

Under greying skies, after cruising the 18 miles of cornfields to Groton on SR 12, we get off the main and jog north, then back east thru tiny Pierpont to Roslyn. Some scary and scaly, grey and engulfing cloud formations seem to be moving in from the south. Some light rain. Clouds separate, sun peeks and then recedes, then more odd formations above me. I keep looking around (sorta hoping, sorta not daring to hope) to catch a funnel on film. You know, one of those "Look mom, no brain; I got to watch a tornado come at me. I'll just lie in this here ditch while the cows and houses blow over; it'll make a great story at the Wedgewood Broiler!"
But no luck; I made it to Roslyn just fine.

Now, I did notice on my roadmap that Roslyn is the home of the (popular!) International Vinegar Museum, so I had to put it high on the morning's stopslist. I was in a bit of a pickle timewise, but what the heck. Three Senior Sitizens on a front porch in town directed me to the appropriate address and concluded with "Hope you didn't come all this way just to go to the museum!". And I assured them that I had INDEED.
Unfortunately, museum days were Thursday- Saturday and today was Wenzday. Dejectedly, I settled for a photo of the doorway and lunch across the street at Jim's Cafe. The meal was nothing special, but oddly, when I asked (naturally, I thought) for oil and vinegar dressing for my salad, I was told that they didn't have any vinegar! I thought best to not press the issue...
Pushing northward under more grey skies, I reach the crossroads town of Eden under deteriorating conditions, then go east toward the Buffalo Lakes. The expected cloudburst, accompanied by a driving south wind, chase me under a large, lime green road grading machine for 20 minutes til skies clear again. Squirming around under the belly of the beast got grease and oil all over my otherwise spotless cycling wear. (Black grease shows well on flourescent yellow, my friends...Oh well, another step lower on the sartorial scale.) The Buffalo Lakes are little blue gems, but are surrounded by rows of abandoned and dilapidated cabins and the remnants of a onetime quaint resort, and the only sign of life appears to be orange-spotted turtles trying to cross the road. (I did usher a few along for fear for their lives). Back on busy SR 10, I finish the last 10 miles into Sissento into a nasty, dark grey cloud and another soaking rain. But there is still spirit alive to stop at DQ for a large choco-choco chunk blizzard before reaching the Super8 Motel dujour.

40 days and 40 nights, isn't something special supposed to happen now?
I entered Roberts County, South Dakota and passed 2000 miles today.
Guess we've reached the Promised Land.

June 23 Midterm Report

Day off at the plush Comfort Inn here in Aberdeen. I declare that the halfway point of this odyssey has been reached. Blogging, sleeping, eating, chain cleaning and route planning happened today. Self assess as follows>>>

Bike>> My Kona Sutra cycle has held up very well. Is comfortable and stable. One flat tire.

Trailer>> The Burley trailer has also held up well (should ask Brindil regarding comfort). Two flats, but none since I switched inner tubes. Tracks very well.

Weather>> Until yesterday, the hottest day was May 22nd in Walla, Walla! Trip has been coolish, with only the one rainy stretch as I crossed the Rockies. Hot and Humid Are Us as we approach July and the upper midwest. Can't wait to outrun the skeeters...

Brindil>> Uncomplaining and faithfull. Loves to stand in the cart, esp. when the wind is in her face (aka a nasty headwind). Has not had an "accident" in a motel (yet)! My gal Sal...

Me>> I started off very unsure that I could manage the physical demands of this trip, given all the nagging injuries I deal with regularly. But at halfway, I am more reassured and confident. I still see the beauty, find the humour and am amazed by the enormosity and grandeur I am passing through. The legs are no longer exhausted after the cycling day, as opposed to the first weeks when I felt wiped out. The bionic right wrist is strong, I think I'll have some hardware installed in the left; it's been a bit tingly at times. The sit muscle continues to be my limiting factor and brings new meaning to the term "sit tight"! The chaffing and irritation can be controlled by deliberate and frequent "butter and flour" sessions. (You figure it out.)

I eagerly look forward to the next 2000 miles, which includes meeting my dear wife in Buffalo, NY, and to finally getting back to my friends and the gorgeous Pacific Northwest.

June 22 Rumblestrips and Roadkill

Ugh, the smell...! Ugh, the display...! This entry is not for the weak of stomach.

We've all experienced roadkill. But it's tough to have to learn the fauna of a region by the rotting body parts along the road. Innocent little critters just going for a curious stroll, to gather food, or to get warm. And then wham, it's all over... Except for ugh, the smell and ugh, the display...

Today we had pheasant, prairiedog and turtles. Days before it was snakes, skunks and huge prairie jackrabbits (haven't seen the infamous jackalope yet). In the Blackhills; fox, porcupines and possum. In Wyoming; pronghorn antelope and mule deer. Toss in the occasional unlucky domestic feline or canine and it makes for a smorgesborg of carnage. On the inorganic side, the assortment is incredible >> shredded, blown tires, bungy cords and S hooks (I'm starting to pick them up, Oh No!), gloves (never a pair), rope and baling twine (I've noted green, blue, red, pink, orange, yellow and orange colored), bolts witout nuts, nuts without bolts, washers without either, assorted wire (most too short to use), capped pop bottles with about a cup of yellowish liquid inside (brought to you by your enlarged prostated trucker) and about anything else capable of falling off a moving vehicle.

So, while dodging and weaving through the shoulder obstacle course, I manage to creep through 20 miles of thick fog this morning, which finally starts to dissolve by 9 am. I pass the 100th Meridian, which historically was the western limit to deliberate investment by banks and insurance companies in the 1800's. Further westward was considered too risky and "redlined", and today still lags in wealth and prosperity. Terrain has really flattened. The rolling green grasslands west of the Missouri River have become expansive, see-forever mega-farms. With no wind today, I fly at will, 15-18 mph, and quickly reach affluent Ipswich after 53 miles. A bumblebee flies with me for a stretch but he too gives up. There is security in knowing I can outrun nasty dogs and bees.

In the shade of a huge maple tree, I'm treated to a revealing chat with a retired farmer, about how years of handling farm chemicals had left him in toxic shock til he retired and changed his lifestyle and diet. Now, he splits his year between Ipswich, SD and Casa Grande, AZ. (He insists that he does not miss the minus 40 degree winters.) Then the eye opener>> Believe it or not, in todays geneticlly-modified food industry, he told me that "engineers" have developed a corn seed and a bean seed that are immune to the herbicide Roundup, so that the chemical can be broad-based sprayed on fields directly after planting, with no harm to the crops (It kills the farmers and poisons the soil, but what's to worry?) There is no more soil tilling and manure fertilizing. A seed injecting machine pressure sets the seed, various watering methods containing Roundup and fertilizer pass over during the growing season, then the crop is harvested in record time and with record produce. The bottomline is well nourished. I mentioned the small but existing organic farming culture in the PNW, and he said that he now only eats "organic". Wow!

Feeling secure that the animals are dead and the ground toxic, I'm back into the 90 degree heat for the last 26 miles into Aberdeen (pop. 24,000). I knew I was approaching "the big city" when I spied a discarded Starbuck's cup along the road. Tonite's palace is the Comfort Inn, with a plate of freshly baked choco-chip cookies waiting on the counter (thinking of you Rick!) and the air conditioned lobby, and settling in is way too easy. Think I'll stay an extra day...

Pre-beers, pampering the queen, and a delish pasta dinner fill up the evening (and my stomach) nicely. There is a nice purr coming from the air conditioner.

June 21 Over the Missouri River and into CST

It's another convenience store breakfast this morning. Just no cafes lately. As I'm downing a banana-nut muffin with some nasty black coffeelike liquid, a slender, middle-aged man walks over and we chat. Paul Evans, a wholesale jeweler from south Florida, is also an avid and active road cyclist, and has bike toured in the USA as well. He heads off in his van and I follow, into the southeasterly headwind. It's another slow creep at less than 10 mph again.

As I stop to photo some roadside flowers, I hear a bark and turn to see a white German Shepard coming at me 100' behind. Uh-oh! I jump on the bike and start cranking (more like sprinting!). Now he's snarling and gaining on me as we both fly at full tilt. He's 20 feet behind me and I'm fearing for Brindil and one of my ankles. I downshift and in a rush of adrenaline, barely pull away from the raging creature. Luckily, I was on a rare downhill section of road or, I fear, I would not have been able to outrace him. (Whitney, it's that Guardian Angel again. How many times does it work? Does it have a Taser or Hyperdrive switch?)

A bit further along, I meet Paul Evans again. He has parked ahead at Mobridge and cycled back (had his bike in his van) to ride with me. We descend to and cross the Missouri River into Central Timezone and have lunch in town before parting. Great to meet you Paul! Just out of Mobridge, I meet another road warrior cyclist, who asked not to IDed, going westbound (tho hard to tell with him, since he had been on the road for 22 months).

Today is a short cycling day, and I stop at Selby's Hilltop Motel after 51 miles.

The sun finally sets just before 10 pm on this the longest day of the year.