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Philadelphia, Jersey Shore, NYC, finish line

The trip is over. I rode a total of 4,765 miles this summer in a great zig-zagging arc across the United States.

There's more to say about Philadelphia and arriving at the shore (both of which were inspiring moments), but I'll say it all later. I'm in New York for a couple of days and I've shipped the bicycle back to California already. From here I'm headed to Boston by bus for two nights, and then to Champaign, IL by plane and will be there for about a week. Friends, I'll be back in California the weekend of the 20th; let's celebrate.

WV, MD, PA

Well, I limped out of West Virginia with a cracked rear rim (screaming down foggy, rainy, steep descents), and got a new wheel in Cumberland, MD in the midst what was one of the most intense weeks of climbing I've had all summer. The mountains out west are taller, but the climbs are nowhere near as steep as they are throughout the Appalachians. The C&O Towpath was too muddy to use, so I took the Old National Pike one of the first grand east-west highways in the nation, which is now mostly empty because of the interstate highway system (paralleling I-68 and I-70 through western Maryland). More huge climbs. I'm not the first cross-country cyclist to think this, I'm sure, but I underestimated West Virginia and western Maryland. Pennsylvania I'm sure will have lots of ups and downs between here and Philadelphia.

I rode through Hagerstown and onto Frederick, MD and had a great visit with my cousin Eric and his wife Alex. Yesterday afternoon, I rode into Pennsylvania to catch up with an old friend. Today, on through York and toward Lancaster mostly using one of Pennsylvania's signed cross-state bike routes about which I've read mixed reviews (route information link - I'll be on route S across the southern tier of the state).

I'm fast approaching the end of this long trip. I'll stay in Philadelphia through the weekend and then plan on riding through the pine barrens of New Jersey, up the Jersey shore, and then taking the 35 minute ferry from Atlantic Highlands (at the very northeast tip of the Jersey shore) to Manhattan. I'll likely ship the bike home from somewhere close to the ferry terminal to simplify things in New York City. A couple of days there and then I'm homeward-bound, either on planes or trains--I haven't decided yet. So far, I've ridden somewhere in the neighborhood of 4,500 miles.

Crazy ride down the mountain

The road was wet, the fog was thick, the coal trucks were in a hurry,
and the grade was steep; but I survived and now I'm having lunch at
the Chat 'n Chew on the Maryland side of US 220.

I'm 20-some miles out from Cumberland and a bike shop which can help
me diagnose and/or doctor up this back rim of mine. I'm also hoping
for the best.

What's wrong with this picture?

Yes, that's me putting my finger through a giant hole in the sidewall
of my rear tire. And, yes, I'm in the creepiest motel room in all of
West Virginia. $24.58 after tax.

I rode through a 10 mile sliver of Maryland this afternoon and the
difference between the two states based on road conditions and first
impressions is serious. Tomorrow, I'm gladly headed for Maryland again.

I've mounted my spare tire, but this drama may not be
over. ...grumble, grumble...beat-up rim from that rough trailriding a
few days ago...the rim may be a little...cracked...let's all hope for
the best at least until I can get somewhere with a bike shop...in
Maryland.

Now that's a switchback

The traffic on US 50 died down significantly a few miles east of
Fellowsville (the sign for which had been vandalized to read
"Cranksville") and then the real climbing began. So far, I've had two
mountains to get over, each of which having 9% climbs for 3 miles up.
It's beautiful up here.

From here I'm aiming toward Frederick, MD to visit some family before
heading into PA and Philadelphia.

Tunnels of West Virginia

For most of the way between the Ohio River and Clarksburg, WV I used
the 72-mile North Bend rail trail which includes 9 dark, damp, echo-
filled, spooky tunnels. People have often asked me on this trip if I
get scared out there all by myself. Up until now I always said no
without a second thought. Those tunnels, though, were scarey. Some are
as short as 300 feet, but at least 3 of them were longer than 1000
feet, one nearly a half-mile long. Some had a couple inches of water
through long stretches, some had a couple inches of mud I tromped my
way through. I had to dismount and walk through many of them, and
there were a couple occasions when I couldn't see the light at either
end from the dark, dark middle. I bought fresh batteries for my
headlight at the only store in Cairo after the first tunnel.

The western half of the trail is in pretty good shape, but things get
rougher in the east. If I were to do it again, I don't think I'd use
the whole trail without some knobby tires. I was fine, but it was
rough riding in sections.

Yesterday, the rain (and the hills...and the narrow roads with coal
trucks) slowed things down for me and I only made it 32 miles to
Grafton. Today (through more rain), I'll hit the far western Maryland
state line and may end up in West Virginia again. West Virginia is the
only state which is entirely within a mountain range. I'm not seeing
any high peaks in this part of the state, but the terrain is rugged
and the ups and downs are steep and unrelenting.

Athens being the exception

I had a real nice visit with some old friends (Dan, Amy, and little
Elise) who I've known from both Austin and Silicon Valley. Athens (in
southeast Ohio, at the edge of Appalachia) is a university town with
more granola eating citizenry than gun-toting folks, a big contrast
compared to the rest of the Ohio I pedaled through.

Ohio was hard

Ohio, though its roads were infinitely better than those of
neighboring Michigan, was hard on me. Nowhere in the United States
have I been honked at and cursed out as much as in Ohio.

Headlines to go

This newspaper is from a few days ago, picked up in Dodgeville,
Wisconsin, but the headline is one worth remembering. I've seen great
signs of things to come for cylists who use their bikes for
transportation. The separate infrastructure in Madison made a strong
impression on me. The Southwest Commuter Path in that city rides like
a legit bicycle freeway, with onramps and exists, a stripe down the
middle to keep traffic organized, and hundreds of cyclists enjoying
their ride to and from work, school, errands, etc. I was told it even
gets plow service in the winter--amazing. The exit ramps have real
street signs making it easy to navigate. Planners: if cycling
infrastructure is built to help people do things they already need to
do, it will be used.

Majestic Plaza Tuesday Morning

Strip malls under grey skies on Tuesday morning headed out of East
Lansing toward Ann Arbor. As you can see, the camera wouldn't even
work right, which was an apt fit for my low spirits. Michigan has not
been easy.

This morning in Ann Arbor, though, things look decidedly rosier.
Special thanks to Lynn and family for a comfortable night in the
executive suite guestroom of their home; and to Kayo for riding with
me into town from Dexter on what has definitely been the prettiest
part of my Michigan transversal.

On that note, I can't forget to thank Dee in Cobb, WI, Rachael in
Madison, and Leigh & Kris in Grand Rapids, MI. Since entering these
populated areas of the eastern Midwest, I've stayed with some families
from warmshowers.org, a website with the specific purpose of arranging
hosts for cyclists on long journeys.

Farewell, Wisconsin

Wisconsin was a blur, and Michigan's turning out to be the same
(though trickier to navigate). Robin met me in Milwaukee for a couple
of days off in that surprisingly beautiful city. There's plenty to
say, but I'll spend the time saying it at a later date. The photo here
is from the ferry across Lake Michigan from Milwaukee, WI to Muskegon,
MI.

Checking in and road names

Ah, the roadside payphone. A lot of towns in the west no longer even
have one; or they do and there's no longer service to it. Tonight's
payphone in Cobb, WI worked like a charm with my calling card so I
could check in with my sweetie from afar as cell service is very
spotty here.

My ride today was gorgeous, 63 miles on an alphabet of smooth, hilly,
trafficless county roads: C, S, M, G, and Q. The Wisconsin naming
convention is nice--rather than "X16" or "A52" like Iowa county roads,
the simple letters in Wisconsin are actually used by the locals when
giving directions. In other states, paved county roads often have two
names, like "Middle Calmar Road" (which locals recognize) and
"W38" (which is printed on maps and no one has ever heard of). You can
probably see how the Wisconsin version makes understanding where you
are a lot easier for a traveling cyclist.

Riding again

Yesterday was my first day back on the bike after two weeks split
between Decorah, IA, Champaign, IL, and Chicago spending good time
with family and helping Robin get settled into her new library science
grad school home. I rode yesterday 56 miles to Prairie du Chien, WI,
crossing the Mississippi for the last time on my great zig-zagging arc
across America.

My folks came to meet me for breakfast here in Prairie, and that was a
nice final send-off. It'll take me a few days to really get back up to
speed again, but I think I'll be flying fast once I step off the ferry
on the other side of Lake Michigan.

The ride yesterday was beautiful, passing through Luana, Monona, and
Marquette among other places (a veritable afternoon mail route, which
you'll understand if you're family to me or close enough) before
crossing the great river. I even saw a yellow cropdusting airplane on
the old Forest Mills road, which was a first for me.

The Plan, revised

One week off in Decorah, Iowa - completed.

One week off in Champaign, Illinois - in progress.

This weekend I'll make my way back to Decorah mostly by train to begin the eastward cycling trip again where I left off 12 days ago. This map explains the gist of what is to come.

View Larger Map

First, I'll ride through the great state of Wisconsin and take a ferry across Lake Michigan; then, I head south and east one way or another toward Athens, in southern Ohio; on from there to the DC area; up through Philadelphia and then to New York. The route on this map is just a general idea. Very few of the actual details (as usual) have been worked out.

I've decided on New York as my "at least that far" destination.

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.