Day 36: All the Pretty Horses

The grasslands continued to roll, and there were in fact horses (see pics to be uploaded in next real town), but mostly just grassy undulation. The sky was blue. There was one road - as if there were ever any more than one - and it went west. When the wind blew through the tall grass on slopes in the middle distance, it looked like a great migration of manatees. Prairie Manatees. We rode for about 75 miles, and during the latter half long buttes and headlands began to rise out of the previously dimensionless expanse to our south. It turns out we could see a long, long way.

Towns here are about 11 miles apart because of the logistical demands of the abandoned railroad we've been following. That doesn't mean there's necesarily anything IN the towns, but there's pretty reliably a gas station in 2 of every 3. This is important in terms of muffin and Hot Pocket procurement, and convenient in terms of sanctioned mituration. You know you're coming to a town about 5 miles out when you see its water tower rising out of a sooty patch of horizon that will eventually resolve into trees. The water tower then hovers there like a fata morgana, willing you on and taunting you at the same time - once in a while the road will turn away from the tower and in such cases you feel more acutely than ever that you are bound to the fickle will of this sizzling, roadkill-stained strip of blacktop (or chipseal, or concrete block).

Today we were in a diner for lunch in some awful tourist trap of a town (Murdo, I think, which claims to have a world-famous car show. I wouldn't know.) when we struck up a conversation with a really cool young family from Minnesota. Dad had done about 20 triathlons, and one of the kids tells me that he's done "about 5 or 6."
"One," says dad. "You've done one triathlon."
"Well, there was green lake..."
"Right," says mom. "One."
"OK, maybe it was like 2 or 3 then," concedes the kid. Behind his back, dad is holding up his index finger and mouthing the word "one" at me. Mom isn't going to let this go, and assures me that son has only done one triathlon.
"Yeah," says the kid, "but there was also that long run."

Still, he's done more than I have (that's about one or two, approximately). I think I would get demolished in the swimming part. I did race a freight train the other day though, if that counts for anything.

Tomorrow: wicked hot ride through the Badlands. We're on mountain time as of tonight, so that should help us get an early start. Ride on.

Day 35: Good Country

Today marks the beginning of a new era, patient readers. One of rolling grassland, sweltering heat, and an ever-diminishing frontier. Yes, when we crossed the Missouri river and -- after a stop at the famed "Al's Oasis" -- climbed the formidible Manganese Hill into central South Dakota, we rode right over the broken yellow line separating the first 1700 miles of our trip from the last. In actual fact, there was no such line on that stretch (I will not apologize for taking poetic license) because we were cycling the shoulder of I-90; you can do that, and often must, in many of the less populous western states. As tractor-trailers roared over the crest of the escarpment, I left the Governor George Aiken lying outside the rumble stip and cheered Bonesy up the last few yards of the 3 mile climb. She rolled up to me, bumped my fist with hers, and said, "that was kind of fun." We have truly come a long way.
We did it into 20 mph headwinds, too, abiding readers! All day they blew. I hate to resurface after two weeks of radio silence and complain about the weather, but the weather for the past two weeks has just been rotten. Chilly, lots of rain, headwinds, you name it. We had taken to calling it the summer that wasn't. Then today was just an amber-waves-of-grain stunner (save for the wind), and the next sevaral are supposed to be gorgeous as well, with temperatures cracking triple digits on Wednesday (probably when we'll hit the Badlands! How awesome is that?). Anyway, larger noise w/r/t weather is that we have felt very keenly how intimately our lives can be tied to nature, and how little stands in the way of that relationship in life at home. Quality of days is largely dictated by atmosphere and terrain out here, which is a little tough but also sort of freeing.
So anyone still reading this would, I presume, like to be filled in on the past 13 days or whatever it's been. Well, tough noogies, as mother always says. Typing on this thing is super tedious and I want to go to sleep so I can wake up and ride another beautiful day on the high plains.
... But OK, real quick. 2 cities: St. Paul and Sioux Falls. Two warm showers hosts: Christine in St. Paul (who happens to be a UVM alum) and Dave in Mitchell, SD. Both truly awesome people who merit much more discussion- THANK YOU, YOU GUYS. 1 Native companion: Randall, whom we met in a St. Paul bike shop and who guided us through Minneapolis's totally impressive network of trails. Lots of other great people, of course, and a car show in Sioux Falls through the inebriated crowds at which we pushed our bikes. A light show at the eponymous falls - sponsored by Wells Fargo - that presented Their Fair City's history. The Mall of America, at which we declined to ride the roller coaster(s), and ate pretty good Thai food-court food, and felt uneasy. Common Good Books (G. Keillor, prop.), where I bought a signed copy of Lake Wobegon Days and felt guilty for not blogging. A few motels because of the blasted rain. Untold numbers of hamburgers and Snickers bars. 2 really nice guys going east-west whom we met outsida Sioux Falls and wanted to meet up with for a beer or something but got distracted by great host Dave. As for quotables, which I know at least one of our Platinum Club readers enjoys, there have been some real gems:

3. "Watch out for the snakes on the other side of the river." -Gas station clerk re: the Missouri

2. "Where is Vermont?" -Biker guy at a gas station who, when informed of the state's proximity to New Hampshire, offered: "oh, like near Maine."

1. "Well, Ted'd probably let you set up in back of the motel there, and anyway, you're in good country." -Ruggedly handsome biker guy in Reliance, SD just this afternoon. We do indeed seem to be in good country.

That's it. If you want to learn more, you'll have to read (and hopefully purchase) the book.
Ride on.

Day 27: We Met Her Accidentally in St. Paul, Minnesota

Day 22: I-o-l-a, Iola

Tonight we find ourselves at the aptly named Iola Pines campground in piney Iola, Wisconsin. I always thought Iola was something you put on fancy sandwiches, but it turns out also to be the name of a town about 65 miles away from Grandma's house (I've been waiting all day to type that one). Today we left early and had breakfast at Luna, West De Pere's artsiest coffee shop (and its only coffee shop, so far as we could tell). We made such great time with unexpected tailwinds that we both dillied and later dallied in New London at lunchtime.
While Bonesy shopped for lunch in a Festival supermarket, I solemnly perused our moderately-helpful large scale map of Wisconsin roads. I chatted with a few people about the bikes, as typically happens on afternoon guard detail, and then this guy in a polo shirt with a nametag that said "Mike" asked where we were going. "No shit!" he said when I told him; "no sir," I replied, "no shit." Turns out Mike is the gregarious manager of New London's Festival Food Store (this is actually an assumption based on his corner office's commanding view of the sales floor): he practically insisted that I store the bikes in the attached liquor store and ascend to the parenthetically aforementioned office to google nearby campgrounds. Mike and his wife (Pam? Excuse me if I've misremembered) seem to be avid outdoorspeople, and he was excited to help us plan out the second half of day 22. So thanks, Mike.
Then we ate lunch at Taft Park (est. 1915) on the Wolf River -- jury's still out on whether the park's name is at all related to President Wm. Howard -- and napped for about a half hour. Getting an early start seems to allow for more leisure time. Weird, right?
OK then quickly- we ate at the Municipal golf course here: $5.25 all-you-can-eat baked potato buffet! It's like a dream. Also when we stopped at a convenience store in town the cashier told us about a solo cycle tourist going Maine to Seattle who had just passed through last week. We had heard about just such a rider from an excitable cruise director aboard the S.S. Badger... So it's a little mysterious and kind of reminds me obliquely of a Cormac McCarthy novel, which I'm going to try not to think about as I go to sleep. Ride on.

Day 20: Little Sister Appreciation Day

Today was my sister Kylie's 22nd birthday! Happy Birthday, Kylie!

In other news, we crossed Lake Michigan on the SS Badger. It took four hours to travel sixty miles, and not a single pedal stroke. They made the bikes ride steerage, though, which I felt sort of guilty about as we sat on the stern and watched the razor's edge of Ludington dissolve into the bright blue of a chilly June morning. Really, darling readers, it's not broken seventy for the past... three days now, is it? Makes for nice biking weather, and even better sleeping weather. I mean, I've been sleeping like a rock. Also, as I was just telling mom, my back (which usually bugs me most days) hasn't bothered me this whole trip as we close in on three weeks. Chalk it up to the tiny little sleeping pad and the comfortable arch over my Long Haul Trucker.
Speaking of three weeks, tomorrow (day 21) will be our first whole day off in like, twelve days maybe? We're in beautiful De Pere Wisconsin -- which sounds kind of like sarcasm but is actually very sincere -- and staying with my dear grandmother on very short notice. My mom also flew up here from Illinois, which has been the best part of this whole terrific day. I love my mom like crazy. Also my cell phone won't charge, and I'm really hoping that it's the charger itself. This is probably the closest we've been to a Verizon store on the whole trip, so thank goodness for timing.
So after the day off (and hopefully I can write some more tomorrow because I want to talk about things like the Command Suit and the Longest Date Ever and some more people we've failed to thank) we'll ride more or less straight through central Wisconsin to St. Paul, where Bonesy and I are looking forward immensely to visiting Garrison Keillor's book store, Good Books. You all should feel very lucky that I always write under time pressure, or I would just blather for ever. There would be more footnotes, too.
By the way, Grandma just totally housed about half a pound of burger. I admire her to no end. And speaking of figures of admiration, Steve Garufi featured us on his web page (that is, we admire him -- not that we, personally, are the figures in question). Awesome.
Ride on.

(But though actually not, right? I guess I should say "hold up," or something. But to all you, and potential future readers, Ride on.)

Day 18: A Retrospective

Got to write quick, which is too bad because yesterday was awesome. It was raining, and the confounded waterproofing spray I'd applied to the tent must be water soluble or something for all the good it did. So we found a place 55 miles west in Le Roy, MI called the Travler's Bar, Grill, and Motel [sic] for $30 a night. No, the sheets hadn't been washed and no, there was no deadbolt on the door, and yes there were cigarette burns in the carpet, but also there were dollar domestics at the bar and Detour, Michigan's premier variety band. We're in seriously high spirits and hoping to make Ludington tonight to cross Lake Michigan on the morning ferry. Ride on.

Day 17: Bay City R&R and IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

The previous two days have been in the nineties and we've ridden over 60 miles in 20mph headwinds. I guess that was the excuse for shacking up at the Holiday Inn here for clean sheets and internet access and free breakfast. If you've seen the movie Wedding Crashers, breakfast was kind of like that scene where Vince Vaughn piles up his plate and smothers it in syrup: we ate like professionals. Anyhow, we're going to do a half day today, and mostly on the Pere Marquette rail trail, so we look forward to that. Meanwhile, I'm going to use this full-sized keyboard to make some long-overdue acknowledgements and an IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT (below this photograph!).

The IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT is as follows: Bonesy is, as we speak, assembling a picasa album of photos from our trip. It seems like that will be the smoothest way to post & host the large number of images we have accumulated. Find the photos here, and in the future use the link that we'll put on the "Photos" page up top there. And thanks to Bonesy for putting that together -- it's probably more interesting than my blathering here.

OK, so on to acknowledgements. Lots of people have helped us along the way, whether materially or simply by encouraging us. I have been remiss in not thanking them more regularly, so I will here make ammends and endeavour to be more diligent in the future. If you're not on the list and you should be, I'm sorry. Please know that we're incredibly grateful to all of you and probably couldn't be doing this without your support.

Dale, who gave us water a few days ago when it was real hot and we stopped for shade at his store. John, who saw us in the Port Huron paper and then bought us powerade yesterday afternoon when we stopped in Fairgrove. The nameless gentleman at De-J's Store in Fairgrove who not only gave us more bottles of water than we could carry, but also let us use his own private restroom because there were no public ones for miles. The man near Albion, NY who gave us bottles of water and told us not to miss the one spot on the Erie canal where the road goes under the water (woah). Bonnie and her son Simon, who where not only extremely generous but just super cool as well. Mark Rummel, the photographer for the Port Huron Times Herald, who gave us some local advice on M-138 and its hills. Julianne Mattera, the reporter who was interested enough to write about us. The guys at Alpine Cyclery in Port Huron, who replaced Bonesy's derailleur cable housing free and were super friendly and also carried the tubes we needed for her tires. US Customs agents, who after they realized that we weren't a national security threat were very supportive and all came out to look at the bikes and even printed us out directions to Alpine Cyclery. The lady who worked for the Blue Water Bridge Authority who drove us across the bridge in her truck because we weren't allowed to ride over it and would have had to go 20 miles south to the next border crossing. Steve Garufi, who runs bikeacrossamerica.net and was a huge source of inspiration and wisdom in preparing for the trip (we have a picture of Steve taken from his website that encourages us when we're struggling -- what an inpirational guy, and you should all check out his page). The RV-ing couples at Deer Creek and AW Campbell provincial parks who gave us coffee, firewood, conversation, etc. Sean Mahoney, who I think is going to send us a drop somewhere in Minnesota. Also everyone who comments on here. We really like that.

Ride on.