Iowa arrival and intermission

I rode 125 miles through very hilly terrain to arrive in my hometown of Decorah, Iowa Friday evening and the last two days have been the busiest I've seen all summer. I have a lot of family to catch up with, plus Nordic Fest was in full swing upon my arrival. Attached here is a photo from the Winnesheik County Democrats parade float that I thought was awfully clever.

After the lefse, varme pølse, krumkakke, and søt suppe; the waltzes, polkas, two-steps, and schottisches; the parade, performances, and fireworks, the town of Decorah began to quiet down again. Yesterday in neighboring Postville, though, a crowd of at least 1000 gathered for a prayer service, march, and rally for immigration policy reform. I attended to show my support for the families that have been torn apart by what was the largest immigration raid in the history of our country two months ago. The New York Times has covered the demonstration.

Munger Trail and river bluffs

The trip south from Duluth started with 63 miles of beautiful paved
bike path, the Willard Munger Trail. After lingering over a big meal
at The Buffalo House (a dozen miles into the trail) I made it to
Finlayson, riding in the dark until 11 PM. I generally don't ride
after dark, but thought I'd give it a try since I was on separate
cycling infrastructure with smooth asphalt. Those 2 hours in the dark
were exhillerating but quite spooky. In the deepest wooded stretches,
I half-thought a troll would snag my leg while a crossed over one of
the many old bridges. The fireflies and quiet were worth the effort.

The next day, I began cutting my way over to the St. Croix River,
which is the state line between Minnesota and Wisconsin north of its
confluence with the Mississippi. I ended up in Taylors Falls, MN and
ate what was arguably the fanciest meal of the whole summer. Four chef-
selected courses, each paired with its own wine. I won't go into all
the details, but the desert was a peach blueberry cobbler with a scoop
of homemade seasalt vanilla ice cream, which was amazing.

Today was a fun ride. I'm thinking of starting a petition to rename
these river bluffs the Saint Croix Mountains. I had a nice lunch in
Stillwater, MN with Dave, an interesting man who is involved with some
really unique cycling events in this area which I'll describe more in
a post next week. Art in the bike shop across the river in Hudson, WI
set me up with a beautiful set of maps for the next leg of my trip.

For tonight, I'm tenting near the north edge of Lake Pepin. I can hear
raindrops tapping my walls which should cool down this warm and sticky
night. Tomorrow, I hope to have a huge day and make it all the way to
Decorah, IA where my whole family is waiting. This may take two days,
though, as biking a century-plus on the humid roller-coaster roads
here seems like it should be hard. Something I've learned on this
trip, though, is that the hard parts are hard, and that's just fine.

Long ships of coal and iron

I took a harbor cruise on Lake Superior yesterday afternoon and saw 1000-foot ships hauling the same coal I passed by in the Powder River valley near Gillette in Wyoming. I had wondered where all those hundreds of heaping train cars were headed, and here in Duluth was my answer. The largest of the ships are bound to the Great Lakes and cannot go out to sea. This one was going to carry massive tonnage of coal to a power plant in Detroit.

Some ships carry taconite, a low-grade iron ore that's pulled from the ground in the iron range of northern Minnesota. Others load leftovers from North Dakota sugar beet processing in pellet form, taking it to Europe and North Africa to be used as livestock feed. From the water, I could see a blue rock salt candy mountain, laying in wait for use on icy winter highways. I saw great piles of stone and ore of different shades from light limestone to coal black.

Today, I head south on the Willard Munger State Trail, which starts with 63 miles of paved bicycling infrastructure. Over the next four days, I'll ride through 4 states: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa.

Across Minnesota to Duluth

On my way across Minnesota, I met many nights' worth of generous and hospitable people. Special thanks to Gary and family near the smaller of the two lakes named Tamarack; Linda, Janey, Teresa, Wolfie, and the whole Iron Horse crew in Nevis; Lauren & Mary at the campground on the other side of Grand Rapids; and Davey & Midge at the Econolodge in Hermantown. Obviously, I'm leaving out a lot of details and mini-adventures here. Minnesota from west to east really flew by.


The photo here is another important part of bicycle touring logistics. Often, I'll wash out the day's clothes in a campground sink and hang them to dry atop my rolled-up sleeping bag during the day, secured with a bungee cord. This is serviceable, but finding an honest-to-goodness laundromat is worth my laundry's weight in quarters.


I've taken yesterday and today off in Duluth to rest up for the big push into northeast Iowa, where I'll have nearly a week off the bike to spend time with family where I grew up. Now I'm off to take a little tourist harbor cruise in Lake Superior and I think have a look around a railroad museum. Duluth was and still is a big shipping city and I hope to get a feel for how that came to be. Also, I'm still holding my breath for an Alan Sparhawk & Mimi Parker sighting, as I've long been a huge fan of the Duluth-native band Low.

Fargo jet set

Fargo was such a nice city that I took two days out of the saddle to
relax and explore a little. There's a vibrant downtown area spilling
off of Broadway with excellent food (try Hodo), interesting
storefronts (walk into Sign & Symbol for an interesting conversation),
and hip urban coffee shops (Atomic Coffee, where the fashionable Fargo
youth intermingle with rotund retired farmers, sweet old ladies
reading inspirational books, and the work-from-wifi para-cubicle set).
Oh, and seeing a movie in the restored art deco movie house downtown
is worth an evening, too.

The photo here is from the Plains Art Museum which has a vibrant
regional collection as well as world class travelling exhibits. Most
interesting to me was the Walter Piehl painting. Never before had I
seen Western Americana themes (i.e., rodeo) depicted in a legitimately
contemporary style. Tight, reworked draughtsmanship overlayed by
expressive abstracted colors capturing the jolting movements of
bullriding. Kind of a more figurative Diebenkorn, if Diebenkorn would
have spent his time in Wyoming rather than California.

Fargo is on the list of places to go back to.

Thus far and the plan

I've ridden more than 2500 miles so far since leaving San Jose six weeks ago. I'm taking two days off in Fargo, the biggest city I've been through since leaving the bay area. From here, the plan is to ride across Minnesota to Duluth, a small city on the shores of Lake Superior that I've always wanted to visit. After that, I'll ride 300 miles south through Wisconsin to my hometown of Decorah, IA just in time for Nordic Fest; then onto Urbana-Champaign, IL; and then Athens, OH. The route from Fargo to Athens looks something like this:



View Larger Map

The exact route is still to be determined as I go. The section between Decorah and Urbana may or may not be on a bicycle, and after Athens, my options are open again. One option I'm thinking about is to ride across Pennsylvania to Philadelphia (a former home of mine), then across the pine barrens of New Jersey, up the Jersey shore followed by a ferry into Manhattan. After that I could even ride the length of Long Island and take some ferries to Rhode Island and possibly ride through Wareham, MA (another town I've lived in) and then up to Boston. I'm really getting into speculation here, though. True destination beyond Athens, OH: unknown.

Any road heading east

I made some serious progress across North Dakota due to some heavy
winds straight out of the west. The winds were so strong that I
altered my plans more than once. Basically, the only possible
direction of travel was east. After camping near Lake Sakakawea at Van
Hook, I planned to head for Minot and take a day of rest. The route
was simple: 50 miles east, 16 miles north. Well, the first part was
easy, I coasted at 20 mph for most of that. When it came time to hang
a left on US 83, though, the North Dakota wind told me firmly that I
wasn't going that way. I tried, but with gusts up to 50 mph, it was
impossible to keep that loaded bike on the road. So, east it was, by
any means necessary.

ND Hwy 23 came to an end eventually, though, and I had three choices:
north, south, or straight across on some eastbound prairie trail
pictured here. This is one of the more manicured sections, but some of
that 5 miles was a pretty wild ride. I feel like I tested the off-road
limits of the Champagne Trucker that day.

All told, 126 miles on Friday and 100 miles Saturday puts me in
Cooperstown, where a street dance happened last night. The loud rock
cover band was well received and the pork sandwiches were excellent.

Dramatic North Dakota Landscape

I certainly wasn't expecting this kind of scenery on Wednesday, but
there I was headed north through the Killdeer Mountains and crossing
the Little Missouri River. Up and down and up again, over and over in
the 95 degree heat.

After the climbing was done, I was at Lake Sakakawea, a manmade lake
formed by damming up a section of the Missouri River. At this point, I
was cruising right along the Lewis & Clark trail.

Oh, blessed campground shower

I passed by some beautiful scenery today, but did ride 115 miles to
Killdeer (that is, I didn't stop to take too many photos); hence, here
is a photo of a glorious part of my bicycle tour experience: the
campground shower.

The wind blew every direction today, sometimes with me and sometimes
against me. The strongest winds, though, always come off those heavy-
loaded trucks related in some way to this latest incarnation of the
Western Dakota oil boom. Tonight after dinner I talked to some
hardworking drillers, electricians, truckers, you name it, who are
getting in as many long shifts as they can while the gettin's good.
They say there's more oil here in the Dakotas than anywhere else in
the US (including what's untapped in Alaska), but you just never know
how long these busy times will last.

Black Hills and Grasslands

I made it to Spearfish late Saturday night and took Sunday off with
the family of a friend. It was so dark that I finally had opportunity
to test out my contrived headlight sytem. It was great night riding
because I could smell that good smell of fresh cut hay and I saw my
first glimpse of fireflies in more than one summer.

The Black Hills are host to a much more dramatic set of geological
features than I had anticipated. Interstate travellers: hop off I-90
and drive up Spearfish Canyon for really superb natural beauty. My
host Chris took for me a drive through the canyon, past a now fallow
longstanding gold mine, and on into Deadwood, with its historic main
street where Wild Bill was shot down and casinos draw busloads of
folks willing to make a donation to the local economy for a shot at a
little or not-so-little jackpot. Thanks again to D'Anna and Chris for
all the hospitality.

Monday morning, it was north on US 85 into the wind. It may be hard to
imagine, but I was nearly ecstatic to be riding into a stiff,
relentless headwind through long rolling rangeland and the sweet smell
of alfalfa. I did make it 90 miles all the way to Buffalo, population
380 and county seat for Harding County. My maternal grandmother's
parents actually honesteaded west of Buffalo near Camp Crook and
Capitol, MT.

At press time, I'm sitting underneath the welcome sign for North
Dakota, and already today I've had someone point out a handful of
Fretheim names in the local phone book. I can hear the soft whistling
two-note tune of an oil derrek in the middle distance.

The mountains have given way to the hills

Hills that go up and down and up again are mentally tougher than a big
mountain pass for me, and it'll be hills I bet for another few days
until I get to the northern tier of North Dakota.

For the moment, I think I'm finally on one of the major cross-country
bicycling routes, as I've met a few others and seen even more from a
distance. Among them have been Ross and Josh (http://gordthegreat.blogspot.com

) who were having a great adventure riding from Seattle to their home
state of New York.

Today I hope to finish up with Wyoming and enter South Dakota. The
scenery yesterday consisted of hay fields and coal mines on hill after
hill after hill. Towns on the map of the forgotten section of Wyoming
I passed through yesterday were only a bar/restaurant/post office
combination with signs in the window reading "Spotted Horse,
Population 2, Elevation 4026."

Ucross on the 3rd of July

Look up the Ucross Foundation and you'll see where I spent most of
yesterday. There were a couple thousand people, a great band I need to
find out the name of (who played such crowd-pleasers as "Trailer Park
Fire," "All Night Chicken Trucker," and "Mama Was a Roughneck"), good
food sold by the Buffalo FFA, and an impressive half-hour fireworks
display to cap the evening. Pretty good for Ucross, population 24.

The photo here is pretty tame. As the night built up steam, the grass
before the stage tent had probably 200
People dancing with great enthusiasm. My question is where did those
hay farmers learn to twirl their partners like that?

The Foundation is an artist residency program that hosts visual
artists, writers, and performing artists, and the town got its name
from the original ranch (whose symbol was, you guessed it, the letter
U combined with a cross). The cottonwood trees were absolutely snowing
down fluffy stuff all day long.

Ducking out of the rain for a spell

I only made it [downhill] 50 miles from my big family get-together before another day off. I'm glad I checked the weather forecast before camping out last night--there was thunder and lightning, 70 mph winds and power outages, all of which were much more pleasant from inside my motel room than they would have been from inside my tent. There have been more predicted storms for this afternoon and evening so I've been enjoying downtown Sheridan and have booked one more night to stay indoors. Tomorrow--east on US 14 toward Gillette through what I've been warned is pretty remote country.

The big success story so far today: I had my right-front pannier repaired at King's Saddlery here in downtown Sheridan. A rivet had popped loose and was replaced with a short bolt by the original owner of the bags. This was structurally sound, but would tear apart a plum or loose apple I would happen to put inside. The nice folks there fixed it for me in 2 minutes flat free of charge. So, if you're in need of rope, spurs, a saddle, or things of that ilk, I can heartily endorse King's.