56.17 miles. Maximum 37 mph, rating: 8
Thunder, lightning, and rain woke us about an hour before the alarm. So we snuggled up and didn’t get up as soon as we had planned. Still left about 6:15, after cinnamon rolls and apples. Rode with lights on for about half an hour. Tough pushing the bicycle generator. Raining pretty hard, and lots of electricity by the time we reached Laurel, so we stopped for coffee and toast. Café was full – no one eager to go out into the weather.
The rain let up, and for about twenty miles east from Laurel, we had short steep choppy hills, none of them more than 200-300', but adding up to a fair amount of climbing. Stopped about 11 at Willits, unincorporated, for a sandwich. The café had a sign: “Sorry, no gas of any kind – thanks anyway – Michelle.” My computer conked out for about six miles in the rain.
The skies cleared up completely. On to South Sioux City, onto Highway 75/77, over the bridge, and into Sioux City, Iowa. Nebraska gets the bad roads award so far – probably 75% of the roads we travelled had transverse cracks. Interesting that we saw no deer, dead or alive, in Nebraska.
Downtown Sioux City reminded both of us of San Francisco, the Embarcadero and financial district on a weekend. Looked nice, but no people around. We stopped at a bike shop, where we got a couple of new jerseys. We thought we might be able to extend the laundromat interval from three days to four. It turned out we didn’t have quite enough accessories, and although we subsequently went four days sometimes, it was awkward.
On through the main downtown. Got a room at the Best Western. Walked to the waterfront. There was a carnival, a marina, and an old beached riverboat housing the tourist information office and a river navigation museum. Bought very tart apples at the farmers’ market. Watched a few rounds of an arm-wrestling contest. The Shriners are in town. We watched them parade in their funny little vehicles and fezzes.
Sergeant bluff, Floyd river – everything’s named after Sgt Floyd, the first casualty of the Lewis and Clark expedition. As far as we could tell, the only noteworthy thing Floyd ever did was die at Sioux City.
We walked around town. There are some nice old buildings in the downtown, but it certainly isn’t vital. Lots of the flags were at half mast, probably because of the air crash here about ten days ago.
Just as we were about to give up and go eat in the hotel, we found El Napolita, a good Mexican restaurant, in a hole in the wall (but of course).
On the way back after eating, we saw the start of a hot air balloon race. I counted eleven balloons, launched perhaps 30 seconds apart. Really pretty, filling the sky with their brilliant colors. Not too much later, we saw them silhouetted against a hazy setting sun, an unforgettable sight.
94.04 miles, 10:35. Maximum 24 mph, rating: 6
We left at first light, about 6:15. It was cloudy and muggy and there was a light headwind for most of the day. We took Floyd boulevard, which parallels Floyd river, out of town. There’s a big popcorn processing plant just outside Sioux City – well, it has to come from somewhere.
Highways 75 and 60 have no paved shoulders and lots of cracks, mostly transverse. The cracks have been repaired (unlike Nebraska), so Iowa is only second in line for the bad roads award. There was more traffic than expected for a weekend, and it wasn’t a safe, relaxing day.
We exchanged waves with the passenger in a traffic patrol helicopter.
We met a motorcyclist at McDonald’s in Le Mars, where we stopped for breakfast, and again at Hardee’s restaurant in Sheldon. He was also a cyclist, full of talk about recumbents and RAGBRAI. The Des Moines Register’s 17th Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa just finished. Several people asked us if we were participating in it, including the passenger in a car that pulled up alongside us on the road.
Our friend told us the Osceola county fair was on in Sibley, so we stopped for a break. Vegetables, animals, handiwork, 4H club projects, a watermelon-eating contest. The Des Moines Register had a booth, and the man there gave us a paper with a RAGBRAI story. Jacky refused to enter the sexy legs contest. She thought the chainring print on her calf would count against her. Too bad – after cycling a couple thousand miles, she would have been an easy win.
Leaving Sibley, we saw a big black cloud ahead. This is tornado country, and it was that time of day. Near the state line, a driver stopped to tell us there were severe thunderstorms at Worthington, and funnel clouds had been sighted. We first thought we could hole up at Bigelow, just inside Minnesota, but there’s no there there!
Jacky drafted, and we got into Worthington as fast as we could. Meantime, the storm drifted off to the east and south, and although the streets were wet, the sky overhead was blue, the air was fresh, and the sun was out. Just fine with us!
At Worthington, there’s a big Campbell’s soup plant, whose product is boned chicken. The smell didn’t inspire me to rush out and eat some Campbell’s chicken soup.
Worthington is on pretty lake Okebena, with an unpaved bicycle path around it. Downtown was closed up for Sunday. Stayed at a motel near the highway, ate roast pork and liver and onions at Happy Chef. Tried to get a cognac at the Holiday Inn, but there was no booze on Sunday (!).
85.19 miles, 9:09. Max 28 mph, rating: 8
Breakfast at a Phillips 66 café that was having its last day in business. We surmised the Hardees and Macs put it out of business.
We left Worthington on Highway 60, which had all the disadvantages: heavy traffic, no paved shoulder, bad surface. We sacrificed the direct diagonal route and took to the NS-EW county roads at Brewster. This turned out to be an inspired idea. The traffic was very light, and the road surface was much better except for a few miles of fresh sand. Some of the roads were newly surfaced, absolutely perfect. We were able to ride abreast much of the day and enjoy each other’s company.
The morning fog lifted slowly, and the morning turned cool and clear. It was a great day. We didn’t have to fight anything – not hills, not wind, not traffic. This is how it’s supposed to be.
At 40 miles (9:45) we stopped in Storden, hoping to find a country grocery. Instead, there was a drive-inn (sic) that didn’t open till 11. The proprietress was there, getting ready for the day. She invited us in, told us the grill wasn’t hot yet, but we could order anything that didn’t need to be cooked. We had large chef’s salads. Pretty, pretty good.
| One of her signs was | |
Stopped again in Lamberton. Bought OJ, etc, ate under a tree. Then went through Wabasso, a pleasant little burg where we bought postage stamps, apples and grapefruit.
Two horses saw us riding by, and ran straight for us. You rarely see a running horse nose-on. Impressive sight. They were disappointed when we didn’t have apples for them.
Finally got to Redwood Falls – very nice! A friendly fellow in the C of C gave us literature. The big attractions are Ramsey park, Minnesota’s largest municipal park, and the annual Inventors’ Congress.
Kemmerer, Wyoming, is the home of JC Penney. Redwood Falls is the home of Sears. Good grief!
As we locked up our bikes, a woman asked us the usual questions, then recommended a restaurant. She sat next to us, told us she was a reporter for the local newspaper. We spent a long time in a discussion and interview. Went back to the bikes for a picture. She subsequently sent us the clipping from the newspaper, a well-written and pretty much accurate story with a good picture. We’re real celebrities, once we’re off the beaten path.
We tried to call Dick H at Olivia, but he was away until Friday. We gave up the idea of riding there today, and camped at Redwood Falls. The showers had a single spring-loaded handle, so the water only ran when you held it. The hot-water heater was far away. I had resigned myself to a cold shower, and was about halfway done by the time the water began to warm up. Jacky was a few minutes later getting started on the women’s side. She got the benefit of my shivers: the water warmed up right away for her.
The park was nice except for the mosquitoes. There were fish in the river, and a zoo. We saw a peacock in full display for two hens, who were elaborately uninterested. Wandered downtown, ate at the Food Gallery, had a couple of beers, walked back, and turned in.
The local stone is pink and gray granite. We see it used in the buildings; there’s said to be exposed stone at Morton, six miles east (tomorrow). There are farms every quarter to half mile, along both sides of the road, very neat and tidy. The crops include corn and soybeans.
Smells: hay (grass and alfalfa are different), feedlots, skunks, dead animals by the road, passing vehicles, gas stations.
112.06 miles, 12:50. Maximum 30 mph, rating: 8
Slept in a bit. Left the campsite at 6:40 and stopped for breakfast again at Food Gallery. The mosquitoes were so bad this morning that I put on my plastic rain pants. Turned out to be the only time I wore them on the whole trip.
The Minnesota river is fairly pretty. There’s a valley down; someone yesterday warned us about the terrible climb out the other side (yawn!).
Stopped at Olivia city park for snacks, then at the grocery store for bananas, banana nut bread, and the weekly paper. No story on us, so Dave stopped at the newspaper office to leave our address, while I chatted with a middle-aged man who stopped to tell me it would be 92° today. We took to country roads at Bird Island. Again, as yesterday, a good choice.
We saw a crop duster take off at Redwood Falls as we were leaving. A few minutes later, it landed again, for no obvious reason. A few miles further north, it came straight at us, maybe 50' up. By the time it was over the field next to the road, it was maybe 20' up, well below the power lines running perpendicular to the road along one side of the field. We stopped well off to the side, away from the drifting cloud, and took a calorie break while we watched him do his runs.
We were doing 16-18 mph on the flats, admittedly, with a tailwind. We outran a combine on the road.
Everywhere, Minnesota seems prosperous, perhaps because people are into factory and co-op farming. There is some industry. Even a tiny town like Watkins (pop 500) had dozens of operating commercial concerns. We had lunch at Cosmos, where a man recommended we cut off ten miles by skipping Paynesville. So we did.
We crossed 45°N latitude, heading north. Didn’t even know it (but keep this in mind for later). We went on via Litchfield, Forest City, and Watkins, to Cold Spring, where we intended to spend the night. There are no motels at Cold Spring. So we stopped for pizza and rode on to a Day’s Inn in Waite Park, in the outskirts of St Cloud.
Only problem of the day. Otherwise, it was, like yesterday, a day without having to fight anything – a good tailwind, flat to gentle rollers, not too hot except in still air.
In southern Minnesota, we had trouble finding booze, but Cold Springs brews its own beer, Rockville had a beerfest at the ball park, and we got Dos Equis and nachos at a nice Mexican restaurant near the Day’s Inn.
We came past a quarry at Rockville on the way in. It was too late to see any operations, but there was a tower in the center, with perhaps ten cables radiating outward. As I understand it, the cables are encrusted with carborundum and used to saw out granite.
Jacky flushed a grouse – startled her. Probably also startled the bird. Another wildlife note: tiny funnel clouds over individual weeds, each cloud a swarm of hundreds of minute gnats.
5.67 miles, rating: 9
Slept in till 8! Munched on the last of our food, and rode to a Pannekoeken Huis for Dutch baked pancakes, good service, and Vermeer reproductions. By tradition, whenever the waitress serves up an order of pannekoeken, she runs with it from the kitchen, shouting, “Pannekoeken, pannekoeken!”
Bob Hope is performing here tonight – nice to be in a town of 175K people for a change. Walked around the downtown pedestrian mall after stopping at a suburban bicycle shop. C of C not particularly useful.
We moved into a classy motel in downtown St Cloud. Nicest room of the trip – and most expensive, so far. Good place for the eve of our 21st anniversary. Moving into the hotel, we took our bikes to our room in the elevator. As we maneuvered them off the elevator, trying not to unduly delay the people waiting to get on, we noticed that the people waiting to get on were Bob Hope, his flunkies and bodyguards. A real person. He smiled at Jacky, nodded to me.
Went out to the University for the noon concert, but it was much-too-loud jazz. Bookstore did not have maps. Crossed the Mississippi (big) and went back north through formal gardens. There are jungle cliffs along the west side of the river. Who says city people get no nature?
Lunch at a downtown deli that seemed very ‘California.’
Back to the university district after naps, to do laundry. Changed clothes and went to city library to look at maps and estimate remaining distance (1800-2000 miles estimate – the actual was about 2000).
Ate at Charley’s, a red brick restaurant with green awnings, started in 1890. We had four (!) Guinness stouts and cajun food. Great evening.
90.62 miles, 10:02. Max 23 mph, rating: 4
Happy 21st anniversary! The day dawned overcast, cool and muggy. There were about two hours of light rain, but it was warm enough that we didn’t even put on our jackets.
We ate at a working class restaurant on St Germain street, about two miles east of the Mississippi. The fans and lights drove me crazy, probably because I had a bit of a hangover. The headache and queasiness stayed around till about noon. Fairly fast riding.
First wild strawberries of the trip along the road, but too late in the season for fruit. We rode all the way to Ogilvie (40 miles) before eating again – a mistake.
At Mora, there is a big Dala horse statue. It’s advertised widely throughout the area, and made to sound like a big deal. Turns out it’s ugly, fiberglass and steel, built in the early 1970s. Big deal. We also went to the Mora museum, where there are lots of lumbering artifacts.
We left Highway 23 at Mora to avoid traffic. At Hinckley, we snacked at a Dairy Queen, on a picnic bench in the sun. There we joined the Munger trail bike path. This is an abandoned rail right of way that goes all the way to Duluth, though not all of it is paved. It’s a deserted, mostly-paved path through forests and fields, very nice. The only disadvantage was that the narrow right of way suppressed the tailwind, and it was hot and sticky.
Hinckley
“In 1894, a firestorm swept through Hinckley, devouring the town and the surrounding forest. A train raced townspeople away from the blaze to the cooling waters of Skunk lake, saving many people. (An excellent account appears here.)
“Today, that train route has been converted into a bike trail for cyclists to enjoy. The tree and shrub lined trail passes through farm fields, pastures and some wooded areas. A short section of the trail departs from the old railbed and wanders over a small hill covered with aspen, sumac and pine. Deer, beaver ponds, songbirds and wildflowers can be observed from the trail. Cyclists can stop for snacks or lunch in the small towns…”
– Explore Minnesota Biking brochure
At Sandstone, we stayed at the Motel 61, our only choice. We cleaned and lubed the bikes. It was the first time since Carson City, and they needed it.
Jacky had been wanting to do some hiking ever since we left home, so we walked through town to Banning state park to see the rapids. The trail got primitive, and the mosquitoes got ferocious, and we quit before getting to the rapids. On the way back into town, we saw a house in a hill. The front wall faced south and looked fairly conventional.
Ate BBQ ribs, wandered around town (almost too small to wander in), and had Michelobs at the local bar/lounge after dinner.
Smells: rain (before, during, after), bakery, fresh asphalt.
72.50 miles. Maximum 25, rating: 8 Map
It rained during the night. Today was cooler. Jan and Gary’s again for breakfast. Left about 7:40.
Fast riding. We got back onto the Munger trail bike path at Finlayson. Moose Lake was a pretty little town, where the south section of the paved bike path ended. We stopped there to eat bananas and granny bars, overlooking the lake and the rear end of the moose statue. We rode the side roads through Barnum, Mahtowa, Atkinson, and Carlton.
Stopped in Mahtowa for root beers and to call Fed Ex about the care package we’re expecting to arrive in Duluth from home. Found out all B&Bs in Duluth are booked – for a B&B convention this weekend. We met seven bike tourists from Duluth, a YMCA weekend trip to Sturgeon lake. Five high school age kids, two adults. One of the kids said she couldn’t imagine how we could undertake a venture of such magnitude. We explained that we just did it one mile at a time, but I don’t think she understood the point of persistent, steady progress.
The paved trail resumed at Carlton, and took us 14 miles through Jay Cooke state park. Several pictures of the really spectacular St Louis river gorge from the old railroad bridge crossing above it. The kids diving from the cliffs into the river had more nerve than I would have had. They yelled at me to take their pictures jumping.
We’re back into the really beautiful country – not that it’s been all that bad – and a welcome change it is, too!
Very nice coming all the way into town on the bike trail. The Hinckley – Moose Lake stretch was almost deserted; the Carlton stretch was fairly popular, but not crowded by any means. Jacky stomped a couple of teen-age kids who were riding abreast on the bike path, blocking traffic, and tried to outrun us rather than singling up to let us pass. Wildlife: along the Carlton bike trail, trees felled by beavers.
A road sign I’d like to see
The entry to Duluth looks like San Francisco’s Mission district. Panicked by reports of full-up lodging, confirmed by a couple of attempts to reserve, we stayed at the Seaway hotel. Gack! It was the sort of place where you expect bullet holes in the doors, and you’re glad the lobby is dark because you don’t really want to see the condition of the carpet, the walls, the people. An adventure. Builds character.
We took the Duluth harbor tour. This is a real working port, though we saw almost no shipping activity, and someone later told Jacky that the place is dead compared with the old days. The city has a population of 80K, declining. They ship grain, cement, hardboard, taconite (concentrated iron ore), coal. A container crane built many years ago has been used only twice, and is for sale. Clearly a bulk port.
We ate at a great Greek restaurant.
Smells: hardboard plant; coal piles, a bit like natural gas.
Grain bins have blowers at the bottom to keep the grain cool and dry. I only just noticed this – it this universally true? (Wyoming, Nebraska?)
Today was my first day without granny. Admittedly, I pushed a little on some of the grades, rather than shifting down; but I didn’t stand out of the saddle.
51.88 miles, 7:06. Maximum 37 mph, rating: 9 Map
The hotel was stifling, with no airflow. The transom had been nailed shut, possibly because of changes in the fire codes. I was awakened several times by drops of sweat rolling down my body. I showered again this morning. Miserable night – hot, noisy, and lumpy. The mattress belonged in a chamber of horrors.
We had arranged for Meredith to Fed Ex our bills to Duluth. The FedEx office is near the airport, on the other side of a high (600'?) ridge running down the center of Duluth. Piedmont was a low granny grade, but it was closed for a stretch, and the 6th street alternative was comparable to five Arguello street Presidio climbs in a row. Had to walk the last block. It turns out not to be a ridge; it’s an escarpment, where the Precambrian shield comes down to the lake. At the top, it’s just rolling countryside.
Did the laundry, then bounced along Haines road, under construction, on gravel and sand for a couple of miles. Six miles and three hours after leaving the hotel, we were at FedEx. Tom Peters could do a film on what Fed Ex customers go through to get packages. We picked up our package, then headed out along Arrowhead road with a strong wind, mostly tailing.
On and near the shield, the country changes to bare rock, with mixed birch and pine forest, and marshy areas with cattails and horsetail and other ferns. The road is fairly flat, and runs near Lake Superior, whose shore is large boulders and low cliffs. The scenery gave me a strong feeling of being in Canada already. What really happened, of course, was that we crossed between the Breadbasket and the Empty Quarter, although it didn’t occur to us at the time.
We met a professor of architecture at one rest stop, who said one of his students had designed a rest stop as a project (or written a thesis on the design of a rest stop – not entirely clear). He was interested in the totally solar rest stops we had seen in Wyoming.
Took the shoreline road to Two Harbors, instead of the expressway. Surface poor, but very scenic and little traffic. Crosswind and hills – not too fast. All cabins and motels had No Vacancy signs – just Saturday? or all summer?
We rode into Two Harbors with a cyclist named Jim, who taught marketing at Duluth Technical College. Jim had also taught two years in Redwood Falls. He strongly recommended camping at Gooseberry Falls state park, advising us not to be put off by the Campground full sign. We stopped at Two Harbors for muffins and breakfast preparations.
Sure enough, the state park had a full campground. Sure enough, they had a separate area for cyclists and backpackers, right on the grassy shore of Superior. We had it totally to ourselves! It was also the prettiest camping area in the park.
We went to have a look at Gooseberry falls. Then we walked back to Castle Danger to eat good-ole-boy cuisine and gooseberry pie. I didn’t fall in love with gooseberries.
71.81 miles, 9:35. Maximum 29 mph, rating: 9
9:15 AM, Beaver Bay
Last night was the best camping ever in our lives. We had the sound of the wind and the waves to lull us to sleep. There was a group campfire, with stories and songs. One old codger recited The Cremation of Dan McGee and some other old standbys.
We had bought some muffins for breakfast, but the raccoons (presumably) raided one of the food panniers and strewed them all over the place. We hadn’t paid any attention to protecting the food from the wildlife. Good thing this isn’t bear country. We managed breakfast from apples and OJ in the other food pannier, which hadn’t been touched.
Lake Superior had real waves on it this morning, and the air was very chilly, probably in the 40s. We started out about 7:30. Jacky had a flat front tire on the road, another steel sliver. Finally got breakfast at Beaver Bay, 12 miles out, about 9 AM. Tough riding. Hills, wind, cloudy and cold. Stopped at Tettegouche state park for a rest and a look at Superior.
Lakes full of tea
Somewhere I heard a ranger explaining that water containing fallen leaves has the color of tea, because it really is tea of a sort – dry leaves soaked in water. After that insight, I suddenly saw a lot of the water as much cleaner and more pleasant than previously.
Stopped a few more times before Schroeder, where the lake is not visible, but there’s a beautiful waterfall. Ate lunch and booked a room in Grand Marais. Second piece of pie in 15 hours. Most of the restaurants along the shore brag about their pies.
Stopped at a little shoreline park for snacks at 3:30. Flies ate us alive. Pretty, though.
We had random brisk winds, mostly against us. It was a longer day than one would have hoped. Sailed down a hill into Grand Marais about 5 PM. The sun came out, and the town reminded both of us of Santa Cruz. A harbor, presumably artificial, tourist shops, lots of motels.
Crowds of people jammed the streets. We checked into the Shoreline motel and wandered back out, just in time to see most people leaving, as the stores began closing for the evening. Wonderful store called Superior Trading Post: two stories of sweaters, blankets, recipe books, gadgets.
Unlike Santa Cruz, however, Grand Marais has a Canadian flavor: Pierre’s Pizza, South of the Border restaurant (not the Mexican border; that takes a little getting used to). It also has Sven and Ole’s Pizza.
There’s a wood sculpture of a seaman that combines Scandanavian and Inuit artistic styles – unlikely, but true. A brown concrete cylinder approximates a tree trunk – it’s topped by two bear cubs. One of the motels graces its office entrance with a yawning wooden bear.
Most cafés were closed or crummy. Showered and cleaned up, then picked a supper club and went to it. Couldn’t get in until 9 PM, but it was worth it. A lovely old stone mansion – probably 75 people eating. Wonderful wine, good chicken and ribs. The food was upscale good-ole-boy, not bad.
Sign images from the Manual of Traffic Signs, by Richard C Moeur.
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