Day 56 and thereafter - the ride has just begun

Day 56 (28 Sep 09) The Days After - Final Thoughts

From Len:

As I walk through JFK airport to catch a flight to Oakland, CA I am in cultural shock. All these people, all these handbags on sale, all this activity. The ride was a gift. It is a good way to see the US and a good way to see yourself. Lots of small towns, lots of variation (except for the incessant blather of Fox “News” in hotel breakfast areas).

How did two and then three 60+ year old men get along in close quarters all this time? I am sure we all had our own quirks and habits, but we knew that we had to ride. Ride we did. Averaged 80 miles a day through thick and thin. I am thankful for traveling with Jim; for his thoughtfulness and solid as a rock riding and planning. I am thankful for Toby coming and putting up with our drive born of a prior 3,000 miles of riding, and adding his element to the mix. I wished that more of our riding friends could have joined us and experienced such a ride.

I am thankful to my family for supporting and allowing me to take the time.

Now I have to re-learn how NOT to eat when ever I see food.

From Jim:

The transition from the intense microcosm of the ride to a more normal routine has been eased by staying in New Hampshire on a beautiful little lake and no need to interact with modern civilization. Tomorrow I will engage former medical school classmates at a 40^th reunion of Dartmouth Medical School. What will that be like? I have come to that reunion by a unique route: a cross country bike ride starting on the Pacific coast on the Olympic Peninsula of the state of Washington and ending in Bar Harbor Maine. I made the trip with a close friend with whom I have been riding for many years. We ride at the same pace and have compatible personal habits, both requirements for a trip that would last 55 days. Len has been a great riding companion; there a very few others, if any, with whom I would attempt such a two person adventure.

We began planning the trip about two years ago. This particular time was chosen to coincide with my retirement from the practice of pathology and because we were both still in excellent physical condition. In addition, for me, it was an opportunity to plan and prepare for a complex trip, thereby “easing” into retirement.

There were many challenges related mainly to weather and mechanical bicycle problems - the later requiring a call to Len’s bike mechanic in California to tell us how to adjust my rear wheel so I could continue to ride safely after breaking a spoke that we couldn‘t replace without a special tool. The nearest bike shop was 150 miles away. Just one of the things we take for granted at home and that just aren’t available in the middle of North Dakota or as it turned out in much of the country through which we traveled.

I hadn’t previously seen most of the country through which we have ridden and much of it has been spectacular. Your view from a bicycle cannot be duplicated by any other mode of travel. The people we have encountered along the way have been interesting and always friendly. Dan, President of the Clam Lake WI ATV club and self-appointed mayor of Clam Lake has been the most colorful and Truman Johnson of Bay City MI a close second. I will not forget them. We have religiously maintained a blog telling of our experiences along the way and the entire photo album is annotated thus, reinforcing the memories. My wife, Bev has been incredibly supportive despite the long separation. Boundless is my gratitude to Len and to Toby for making this a life-shaping experience. It has been an incredible journey.

From Toby:

My last memory of Maine turned out to be a demonstration of the truth a new friend, Gerry, expressed about Maine a couple of days earlier. During the first part of the ride on the last day, I saw various people returning from church to pound anti-gay marriage signs into their lawns. However, as I was grinding up a very steep hill outside of Bucksport in a vigorous rain, a woman in an old beater of a car rolled down her window as I was crossing (blocking?) the intersection where she was stopped and asked, "Would you like some hot soup." While I declined, the point was made - like most Americans, many people in Maine have dislikes of various groups in the abstract, but when they encounter someone in adversity, they have no hesitation in stepping up and helping if they can. While some think America is changing for the worse, I would offer that DeToqueville, in chronicling his travels in America in the 1830's, offered exactly the same observation of the Americans he encountered in his day. What I thus took from the last day of our ride, was that for all of its faults, what a great country this is.

Day 55 Rockport to Bar Harbor

Day 55 (27 Sep 09) Rockport to Bar Harbor 78 miles

On our last day, we woke to find that, despite all forecasts, we were lucky - the forecasted rain hadn't started. Of course, immediately upon mounting our bikes in the parking lot of the hotel in Rockport (our second stay in a place called Rockport and a near match to a third, Brockport), the rain started, gently at first and then with vigor. The forecast promised an inch of rain (the residual of the same storm that inundated Atlanta). This could be an epic day, but Bev saves us by carrying most of our gear. We just have emergency gear, spare tires, tubes, tools, extra clothing.

So we begin with a grade 1 mist (according to the scale developed on day 2 [a long time ago!], Sequim to Anacortes, WA). In anticipation of heavier precipitation, we put on the rain gear and pedal with thoughts swirling in our heads as the wind and rain swirl in our faces.

The ride itself proved a repetition of the previous day - Maine is a series of low hills, which on the back roads we were taking, meant an uphill, often with a punishing grade thrown in, followed by a short steep descent, which was then instantly and interminably repeated. As we rode the first 40 miles in this fashion, the rain increased, maximizing(?) our riding pleasure. Then, as we rode through Searsport ME, two things happened that provided us with a joint epiphany. Jim picked up a glass fragment from the wet pavement and we change our final flat tire. The spokes on his rear wheel have gone three days without a break (after riding 32 days and nearly 2500 miles with one or more broken spokes); what’s another flat tire seen in that context? As we were stopped beside the road in the rain to fix it, it occurred to us that US 1, which we had ridden for the last few miles, would have much gentler grades and a much more direct route for the remainder of our ride than the route we were on. In short, we decided to utilize "the Wally Option": riding Highway 1 to the finish as opposed to the back routes on our map, thereby not only cutting out the punishing grades of the back roads but providing the added bonus of cutting 10 miles off our total ride. The genius of this decision was proven shortly thereafter, in that after the next 20 miles (on US 1), we outran the storm front, and the rain stopped. Of course, the added bonus was that the remainder of our ride also had manageable uphills. While some may castigate us as shirkers for this decision, we revel in our sagacity and ingenuity in the face of adversity.

We stop for lunch in Ellsworth. Hoping for something and someplace warm, we end up using the outdoor tables of a closed-on-Sunday coffee shop. Must have been a popular place, either that or we attracted interested customers. At least a dozen people tried the door, only to find it locked; should have been open with that many potential customers. They never said anything to us; wonder why?. By the time we finished, Toby was cold (a novelty) and the rain had stopped. The sky remained cloud-filled, but without rain.

When we finally see the road sign for Bar Harbor, it feels so surreal; hard to define. This has been a goal for 52 days of riding and now its here. I (Leonard) feel a thankfulness for the safe 4,200 miles in dealing with traffic, bees, grasshopper sex, broken spokes, wet cement, a visit to a Canadian emergency room, brutal headwinds, flats, customs, blow out, sand on sharp corners, blind curves, downhill plunges on bikes that weigh half as much as we do, suspicious food, RVs pulling BOTH an SUV and a boat trailer, pot holes, gravel/dirt roads. There could have been disasters, but there were none.

Bar Harbor is loaded with tourists’ shops and cruise boat people. I feel like I just landed on another planet, yet at one point in our journey, I observed that we must have looked like space invaders with wrap-around glasses hiding our eyes, rear view mirrors attached, streamlined helmets and body hugging, brightly colored spandex clothing.

We end with a dinner and wine at the Havana restaurant, but somehow the ending seems incomplete. Maybe because my thoughts are still jumbled.

Days 53 and 54 Bethel to Lewiston to Rockport

53 (25 Sep 09) Bethel to Lewiston 50 miles

We slept in - at least for us. Jackie was up early preparing a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. I (Jim) awoke to the smell of cooking bacon - what a change from the last 50 days! We ate a relaxed breakfast and Gerry showed us his progress on his “man cave” in the basement - wonder why it’s down there? We said our goodbyes and thanked the Bells for their great hospitality.

We were off, this time down Paradise Drive, but into the wind again. Much to our surprise, as we turned on to Route 26 to head toward Lewiston, it became a tail wind and we nearly flew south. Despite a late start, we reached South Paris around 12:30 and decided to stop for lunch at a restaurant rather than doing our usual forage at a gas station convenience store. Jim spied Shaner’s Family Restaurant. The parking lot was full, always a good sign, so we stopped there. Lunch was unexpectedly good (guess the parking lot sign worked). The restaurant was full of senior citizens and we chatted with a few of the other patrons during lunch.

With a persistent tail wind we breezed into Lewiston for a stay at the only truly bedraggled Super 8 motel we encountered on the trip. We took a long walk to a not so good Thai restaurant (Toby’s iPhone told us 7 of 8 people who ate there and wrote a review thought it was good - so much for that source of information). Toby and I slept through a fight in the Super 8 hall between a 75 year old man and a 25 year old woman (age estimates provided by the night clerk at breakfast). Len said there were flying shoes and lots of execrable language. I was wearing my earplugs, a defensive maneuver when rooming with Toby, so never heard anything.

Anticipating a hilly ride, we started riding close to 7 AM.

Day 54 (26 Sep 09) Lewiston to Rockport 73 miles

It was brisk when we started out of Lewiston - record low of 30 degrees for September 26. After being passed by a parade of pickup trucks (at least 8 of them) towing variations on the ATV, we encountered little traffic leaving Lewiston. After crossing interstates 95 and 295, we reached Dresden Mills at mid-morning. Making our usual stop at a gas station convenience store, we encountered an unusual culinary fare: freshly homemade sandwiches and egg rolls provided by the Asian proprietress. It was on this particular morning that Toby discovered Len’s stealthy eating habits: before we were back on our bikes, Len had consumed his ostensible lunch - a problem to be solved later.

A bit of riding adventure was provided by a short cut down the Bog Road (unpaved) and across Rabbit Run Path - almost worse than the unpaved Bog Road by virtue of huge frost heaves and an “alligatored” surface. Toby breezed over the rough road on his Surly Long Haul Trucker (that really is what his bike is called) and Jim took it gingerly, afraid of breaking another spoke. Len suffered on his modified regular road bike with narrow, highly inflated tires.

We stopped for lunch by a small pond in the sun and out of the wind (it was still cold) on Route 1 after climbing a viciously steep hill in historic Waldoboro. Len solved his lack of lunch problem by visiting the restaurant next to the pond, returning with a bowl of hot clam chowder and a biscuit. He suffered jealous looks and comments from Jim and Toby.

With the exception of a lot more hills, the remainder of the ride into Rockport was relatively uneventful. We were joined by Jim’s wife Bev who drove over from her cabin on a small lake in New Hampshire near the Maine border. Following a glorious reunion, Toby and Bev drove to a nearby wine shop (more on that from Toby in the last day’s entry) where celebratory libations were purchased from a most entertaining shop owner. Finding that it would not be possible to eat out at a reasonable hour, we proceeded to a nearby Shaws for rotisserie chicken and cooked to order lobster among other things - stuff to go with the great wine selected by Toby. It was an early night in anticipation of what we thought was going to be a 90 plus mile ride into Bar Harbor, possibly with a lot of rain.

Days 48 to 52 Pulaski, NY to Bethel, ME and points between

Photo album will be updated tomorrow.

Day 48 (20 Sep 09) Pulaski to Inlet 88 miles

First frost this morning. Us on our bikes and the Amish going to church in a horse-drawn buggy are the only people on the road this early. Jim and I wave to the buggy and to our surprise we see two small hands with straw hats wave from the back of the buggy. Are these kids curious about these bike riders? Are they curious about the outside world? No doubt; they’re children.

We roll down and pedal up sharp hills in the Adirondacks. It’s still cold at 10:00 AM. There’s a snap to the air that we did not feel at back in August on the West Coast.

It’s another long day on the bike. We stopped in Old Forge for a rest and snack at a convenience store. Len found an Adirondack chair and collapsed there for awhile and Toby engaged a couple of taciturn local guys in conversation - mostly Toby talking.

There wasn’t much to Inlet, but the folks at the Inlet Marina Motel were really nice and Jamie, one of the owners, drove us a couple of miles down the road for one of the best dinners we had on the trip. Guess there’s lots of old money in the area, so a high end restaurant can make a go.

Day 49 (21 Sep 09) Inlet to Ticonderoga 97 miles

We leave in a cold fog. Lots of layers of clothing and thankful for the hill out of town to warm us up. Len’s nose drips like an old leaky faucet (he wrote this, not me). The Inlet Marina Motel is run by a young couple. She is a Jersey Girl who goes back to Jersey to have her babies. (Len, a Jersey boy hears the Jersey accent in a second.) Henry is a stone mason trying to build a business because the stone work is breaking his body. Jamie drives a huge yellow Ford 250 with “MomsRig” on the license plate. Nice place to stay. He is restoring 7 fire places in local “camp” owned by the heiress to the Chase Manhattan Bank founder.

Fall colors are just starting to appear in the hills. We climb most of the day and then there’s a fast decent to Ticonderoga, NY and Lake Champlain. On the way we met a couple from Modesto, CA who are touring on a tandem. They are taking 5 months to cross the US. They have stoppped and stayed at National Parks and visited relatives in Ohio. We all agree that the toughest part were the headwinds in North Dakota.

The day is warm, but you can feel the edge of cold coming out of the forest on the side of us. Winter is around the corner.

Day 50 (22 Sep 09) Ticonderoga to White River Junction, VT

The $2 ferry across Lake Champlain arrives just as we reach the dock. Addie B’s captain flies the Jamaican flag. The owner of the ferry hires Jamaican’s to pick apples. “They can pick 5 bushels a day,” according to the Capitan. He shaves his upper lip, but nothing else. He left his teeth at home.

It sprinkles of rain off an on (never enough to put on rain gear) most of the day and is very humid.

Once again we go up and down all morning on our way to Middlebury, VT. Len is seeking a replacement tire and we figure a college town will have a good bike shop. The bike shop was ok, but no luck with the tire. The owner advises us to take a different route than the one we planned because the road is better. It turns out to be about 14 miles longer, but takes us by Lake Dunsmore where Jim’s son James went to music camp for two summers. Despite the overcast skies, it’s a beautiful ride. Getting over the Green Mountains turns out to be a real killer, Brandon Gap with a 12%-18% grade. We cross VT in one day and end in White River Junction.

Road signs in VT give distances in 10ths of miles, unlike Minnesota. In Minnesota, if there were a sign for a town, there was no mileage. Most of the road signs were for the next Lutheran Church. Information certainly useful to Lutherans

Day 51 (23 Sep09) White River Junction to Moultonborough, NH 79 miles

We start with a short tour of Dartmouth College. Jim shows us the beautiful campus; it is the sort of place that us public school guys dream of when we trip over cracked sidewalks at our poorly funded schools.

Jim gets a flat just outside Plymouth, NH literally across the street from the Rhino Bike Shop. These guys know what they are doing and replace 6 spokes on Jim’s rear wheel (two were broken when the repair began and the other four broke as the wheel was trued). They tell us that the Baby Jesus must have been with us for the trip because the wheel was not intended for touring. Thank goodness we did not have a such a breakdown in North Dakota where there was no food, no place to stay and no bike shops for 100’s of miles.

Our advice: if you plan to do touring find a bike shop that sells you the right equipment.

We are about 100 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, but we will turn north to take the diagonal route to the Ocean at Bar Harbor, ME.

Day 52 (24 Sep 09) Moultonborough, NH to Bethel, ME 74 miles

Last night the lighting knocked out the power in Moultonborough, NH. The owner of Berry Pond Motel offered flashlights, but we all just decided to sleep. He was kind and drove us to the North End Restaurant for a great meal and entertainment provided by our waiter Charlie. I doubt that half of what Charlie told us was true, but he was a great story teller.

It is unusually warm for NH and ME we head into the wind for most of the day. Jim finds two more broken spokes as we leave the motel. We stop for a great breakfast at Rosie’s on route 16 near West Ossipe. We cross the Maine border near Freyburg and ask directions in the local bank. We are told by the bank teller that we can take the “wicked hard” route or the regular route. We opt to avoid wicked hard. Besides, the regular route takes us by the sign with directions to everywhere - photos are in the album.

What a gorgeous day as the weather front moves in lowering the humidity and the temperature. The trees are coloring the skyline with oranges, gold and reds.

At the end of the day, we opt for the “wicked hard” short route rather than the much easier long route to Gerry and Jackie Bell’s house in Bethel, ME. That last climb included bare ground at at 12% grade. That end of Paradise Drive is hardly paradise for a road bike rider loaded with 40 to 50 pounds of stuff. The view at the top is worth the pain of the climb. After a short, gentle downhill we encounter Gerry walking is dog, Dakota, along the road.

Gerry is a classmate of Jim’s who, many months before, graciously agreed to put us up for a night. Jackie prepared a fantastic dinner. It was a welcome respite from the endless nights of motels.

Days 46 and 47 Brockport to Fair Haven to Pulaski

Day 46 (18 Sep 09) Brockport to Fair Haven 99 miles

We continue on the plains of the Great Lakes and have the advantage of the canal trail for the first part of the ride. We know that we have a long day, and need an early start. However, despite Jim’s magic with the Internet it is difficult to find a place to stay. (Later we learn that it could be fall colors, tourists and a salmon run on the Salmon River that has places booked.)

The circular winds from Lake Ontario are blowing up to 20 mph sometimes in our faces, sometimes a quartering wind, but it seems never a good tail wind. The towns along the canal have downtowns influenced by the canal trade. As we approach Rochester we have to be careful to follow the correct canal trail because there is a confluence of the canal and the Genesse River. We pass along industrial areas of chemical plants, railroad yards and manufacturing plants.

As we follow the canal trail signs we end up on the campus of Nazarene College, where Jim comments that the tail signs, “just petered out.” We go in a circle and end up in Pittsford. Pittsford has incorporated the canal into its character by having barge trips and restaurants along the canal. With the wind at our back we end up in Palmyra quickly. Turning north we push against that 20 mph head wind.

A ride along Lake Ontario and we end up in Fair Haven just as darkness is settling in. Town and food is a mile away up a hill. Fortunately, Dan from Fair Haven Inn gives us a ride to town. Dan runs the hotel, has a Christmas tree farm, and moves to Lake Placid for the winter to coach bob sledding. Yes, he did coach the Jamaican bob sled team. The Jamaican bob sled team never made it to the bottom of the hill without crashing, but they had fast starts.

Day 47 (19 Sep 09) Fair Haven to Pulaski 52 miles

Only 50 miles we have time for a sit down breakfast. Maybe we will even have time to talk about our feelings.

At breakfast we meet a former Kodak engineer who worked on carbon fiber bikes for Lance Armstrong. He was consulted on the stresses on the headsets for carbon fiber bikes. He rode across the country several times on his motorcycle.

The chef pre-sold the oatmeal. He tells us he just had some. His wife is the waitress tells us that he samples the oatmeal too much. They live there all year round and the winters last one month too long.

The smell of apples accompanies us and we see the Hispanic pickers being shuttled to the orchards. We pedal through Mexico, NY turn on Route 3 to head to Port Ontario on the lake (Jim wanted to skip going to Texas (Texas, NY of course), having lived there for three years and not wanting to go back). Then to the Salmon River and the Pulaski Salmon Festival. Leonard is thinking about the salmon we will eat at the downtown festival when we arrive. Alas, its ½ chicken, salt potatoes and macaroni salad for $7 from the Lions Club and an elk burger for Jim. Later it is a rotisserie chicken in the Super 8 where we continue to talk about our feelings over dinner. We discovered we didn’t have any - well no more than one for each of the attorneys and maybe two for the pathologist doctor.

Days 44 and 45 Port Dover to Fort Erie to Brockport NY

Day 44 (16 Sep 09) Port Dover to Fort Erie 87 miles

On the road at dawn and we start by missing a turn. No problem. We stop to review the map on the last street that connects to the street we want - our luck is confirmed by a local passerby. And we’re off into the wind - later to find out that wind speeds were a sustained 15 mph with gusts to 23. Long day on the bikes.

On arrival in Fort Erie, we visited a nearby large supermarket to purchase a rotisserie chicken and sundries for dinner. A stop at the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario - netting over a $ billion last year according to the clerk) netted a bottle of fine (well fairly expensive anyway) French wine. Typical of government run liquor stores, the selection was meager. We returned to the Comfort Inn to eat. When we asked for three paper plates, we were greeted with a complaint from the desk clerk that he would do it this time, but that if he did it for us, everyone would be asking for the same thing - there was no one else around. Three miserable paper plates! You’d have thought we asked for the keys to the city.

Day 45 (17 Sep 09) Fort Erie to Brockport 100 miles

Things were looking good until I (Jim) noticed that the zipper on one of my back panniers was partially open. While straddling my bike in the parking lot of the motel and trying to close the zipper, the handle bars turned and the front gear ring put a big divot in the lower part of my right leg. Off to the ER at the nearest hospital about a mile away. The Canadian health system in this case was far more efficient than any such encounter in the US would have been. I arrive a few minutes before 8 AM and was out by 9:30 AM having been sewn up. A quick trip to the local pharmacy for antibiotics and we were ready to go on a 100 mile bike ride including a crossing of the US Canadian border and a visit to the Canadian and Niagara Falls.

“After they put the 2 wires in my head and I dropped the blood clot I no longer had grand mal epilepsy,” said the white haired woman on the bike in front of the pharmacy. Jim was packing his ointment and antibiotics. She perfected the life story treatment in 5 minutes or less. Husband lost his 4 fingers in the laundry machine; she married him anyway and had 9 children. She pedals off. We know we are facing and epic ride by leaving late.

A fast push of 28 miles to Niagara Falls, Ontario; a quick view and lots of photos of Horseshoe Falls and Niagara Falls and we are pedaling to find the Lewiston Bridge to find our port of entry to the US. After a bit of wandering around and an extra six miles we figure out that the way across is through Canadian Customs. The US Customs Officers see out passports, ask questions about our bike ride and we are waived through.

We are running late, but stop at “Smokin Joe’s” smoke shop on the Tuscarora Indian Reservation doing a brisk business in smokes including to a woman who drives up, unhooks her oxygen tank, buys 2 cartons, re-hooks to oxygen and drives off.

We find the Erie Canal Bike Trail in Lockport and have a flat, dusty ride 40 miles to Brockport. The light is getting low and glows on the water. We will be arriving at the hotel at dusk. These towns along the Erie Canal have character influenced by the trading history of the canal now open to biking and boating. We can recommend that you take a look at riding/boating the canal with 500 miles of boating and 300 miles of biking.

Days42 and 43 St. Clair to Port Stanley to Port Dover

We have lots of new pictures in the web album and blog updates for the past 3 days.

Day 42 (14 Sep 09) St. Clair to Port Stanley Ontario 104 miles

We started the day with breakfast in the room and then headed south to catch the Blue Water Ferry in Marine City. When we arrived at the ferry dock, no one was around except the customs agents of which there were three sitting around in the office. We went inside to find how to pay for the ferry whereupon we were told by the female agent to use the sidewalk when we went out and that we pay on the ferry (bear in mind there was no one else around; Leonard wondered silently …). Eventually, one car showed up a few minutes before the ferry arrived from Canada. It turned out that the driver had worked for Ford for 27 years and had been laid off. He was now working for GM in Canada shutting down a Chevrolet plant. Now he’s laying people off.

A sign next to the cafe in McGee’s Corners declares that the chef loves to shake his pepper. A sign in New Glasgow directs you to Joe’s Bush whatever that is.

We ate lunch at a gas station in Morpeth. A Hindi guy running the place was watching a C movie and grilling burgers. The gas station had no gas.

We arrived at our destination, Port Stanley to find that we had reserved rooms at a fantastic inn, Inn on the Harbor, run by a very nice woman who among other things made our reservation for the following night in Port Dover. Based on a recommendation of a resident of the town we ate dinner at the Kettle Creek Inn and had one of the best, if not the best dinner of the trip. The woman who owns the Kettle Creek Inn is also a cyclist and when she found out what we were doing, despite not having any available tables, had one set for us so she could talk to us about our trip. Last year she did a bike trip from Uzbekistan to Beijing - makes our trip look rather mundane. It would have been great to have enough time to spend two days instead of only one.

Day 42 (15 Sep 09) Port Stanley to Port Dover 68 miles

Breakfast at the Inn on the Harbor was at 9 AM and we decided to stay - a wise decision. As a result, we were off to a much later than usual start and even though it was a relative short day for riding we did not arrive in Port Dover until after 4 PM.

This was a day of ups and downs. Each little village is on creek that flows into Lake Erie and the main coastal road is on a plateau above the lake. The result is that every time you enter a village you have a 100 foot drop followed by a very steep climb out of the village - and we thought it was going to be an easy day.

The highlight of the day was a huge wind farm (the Erie Shores Wind Farm) that stretched for 25 kilometers along the lake shore. As the day worn on, the wind speed picked up and more and more of the wind generators were spinning at top speed. There are 66 1500 kilowatt generators for a maximum capacity of 99 megawatts. The generators are located on farm land. Too bad we couldn’t have captured some of that energy to help us along - we had head and cross winds as usual. Where oh where are the “prevailing” westerly winds?

We stayed at a very old motel in Port Dover, widely known for its perch dinner which we sampled. The food was good, but not up to the standard of the night before.

　

　

Day 41 Caro to St. Clair

Day 41 (13 Sep 09) Caro to St.Clair 96 miles

Caro was a bad food town. When we arrived we got to go to WalMart to buy food for breakfast and for the road the next day. Yes, WalMart for that great pasta salad. We recall seeing the Brickhouse restaurant just down the street. It was a 1.5 mile walk for bland, bland, salt bland food.

Breakfast offering was donuts with mystery brown sauce, Fruit Loops (Jim said he saw Raisin Bran.) Leonard had a pint of cottage cheese with mandarin oranges in light syrup and a banana.

We leave the room with the red heart shaped tub and head 5 miles down the road to cross the Cass River. Foggy and a bit cold, but that great breakfast fortifies us. Then we see the road closed signs, but that does not stop us. Maybe, we can get across the construction catwalk. Len walks across and says we can make it by carrying our bags across and down the ladder on the other side. Jim wisely says no we will take M24 which parallels this road.

Back track to town, this will make the day close to a 100 miles. On 24 we are treated to the rudeness of Michigan drivers. This is a generalization, but Michigan has been the worse for rude, dangerous driving. Maybe it is the “car culture,” maybe it’s the unemployment, but blowing horns, close calls, and impatience are the norm for the riding.

St. Clair is a surprise. As we arrive in St. Clair we see the river that runs south from Lake Huron to Lake Erie. It is a wide, swift, blue river that (we are told) becomes brown by the time you reach Detroit. We get a dinner tip in the laundromat to eat next door at the pasta/pizza place. The food redeemed the bad Caro day.

On to Marine City in the morning to catch the ferry across the St. Clair River to Ontario.

Day 40 Midland to Caro

Day 40 (12 Sep 09) Midland to Caro 67 miles

Toby joined for his first day of riding, a mostly flat ride with variable headwinds and a few miles of early morning ground fog. The route directions and map are nearly useless for getting us through Bay City and even though Jim spent a lot of time with the mapping program on the computer the night before, we still managed to get lost. The first person we encountered on the serendipitously discovered bike trail gave us incorrect information. After following his directions for awhile it was obvious we weren’t going to get to where we wanted to be so after inquiring of a more knowledgeable person we crossed the Saginaw River, only to become lost again. This time as we were reviewing the map, a very nice 77 year old Hispanic man came out of his house and told us to go to the 7-11 up the street where we were sure to get good instructions. He was right.

Even though he could not tell us the directions he had time to tell us about his 20 brothers and sisters. Leonard asked him if he was a local and he thought Leonard was saying “loco.”

Even better, we encountered Truman Johnson, a 61 year old retired auto worker whose sister “Neophus” wrote two of Little Richard’s most famous songs, “Long Tall Sally” and “Good Golly Miss Molly.” Truman had on 2 tone shoes, tan pants, gold teeth, gray beard. His belt was on the tightest notch, but it still hung down 3 inches. He told us he worked out and liked to swim.

Truman was a no nonsense kind of guy, just like the president for whom he was named, so his story was entirely believable. During the course of our conversation with him he mentioned how the UAW had messed up a really good thing by making it too easy for auto workers to get paid a lot of money for doing very little. He also made a joke about throwing an occasional new carburetor over the fence for a friend.

Truman put on his baritone voice and started to sing. “I am going up yonder.” We asked whether he was going to heaven. He said yes and showed us his cross. His father was a preacher, healer and prophet and Truman said he had some of the preaching DNA. He met Little Richard who gave him some pomade to process his hair just like Little Richard. Truman’s father was not pleased about his son and processed hair. He told us Little Richard’s name is Pitman and that he was just crazy as can be. All this happened in Louisiana. Truman warned us it is the end times. We asked him to sing, “Long Tall Sally” as we rode away. He did. If he had a bike we think that he would have come with us. He just did not want to let us go. He did have an appointment to get a shave to clean up his Van Dyke.

My only regret is that we left before Toby could get his camera out of his bag to take a picture of Truman with me (Jim) and Len. Truman ranks right up there with Dan the Clam Lake ATV man as a unique and unforgettable character.

The remainder of the ride produced more corn fields and the discovery of yet another broken spoke on the drive side of Jim’s rear wheel. Burnett’s Bicycle and Mower in Wallaceburg Ontario (the closest bike shop) does not sound like a very promising spot for getting the wheel fixed yet again. It may be the end of next week before we find a place that can fix the wheel. Right now, the wheel is almost true so as long as no more spokes break, everything will be fine.

Day 39 Evart to Midland

Day 39 (11 Sep 09) Evart to Midland 62 miles

Evart, MI an ghost town in more ways than one. The 15% unemployment shows in the run down main street with a few bars just hanging on. We leave into a thick fog , more of a heavy mist with lights flashing and wiping our glasses every few seconds. No mercy from the large trucks or the pot holes in front of us.

Jim leads and I hope that his GPS also had Doppler radar. We have 25 miles of this crappy road and dripping fog and 21 wheeled trucks before we will hit the Pere Marquette Bike Trail. What a dream of a ride away from the traffic, wild flowers along the edge and gold finches and flickers flying around us. This would be the way to cross the country. There are “Larry Craig” wide stance bathrooms spaced about every 8 miles. The only thing missing are the evenly spaced latte shops.

A quick 25 miles on the trail and we are in Midland, MI miles away from what we have seen before. This town has Dow Chemical and Dow-Corning so there are jobs, shiny SUV’s on the road. We meet Toby Tyler in Midland and will head for Caro, MI then Marine City, MI for a crossing of the St. Claire River into Ontario, Canada. The St. Claire River flows between Lake Huron and Lake Erie

Toby is riding the Surly Long Haul Trucker bike and it is a trucker. Jim and Toby pedal downtown to get fenders for the rain, spare tire and any other necessitos for the coming ride.

Toby agreed to accept the duties of Trustee of the Laundry Fund from Leonard. Everything was done in a fully legal manner including a swearing of an oath on the Bike Laws of Michigan.

Days 36 & 37 Shawano to Manitowoc to Ludington

Day 36 (8 Sep 09) Shawano to Manitowoc 114 miles

Long day on the bike.

Evening before as we returned from the grocery store in Shawano, the clarion in the cemetery serenaded us with the Beatles “Something in the She Way Moves.” Seemed appropriate.

The ride produced another broken spoke on Jim’s rear wheel - 70 miles out. Didn’t slow us down by more than 5 minutes now that we’re veterans of this problem. Out with the spoke wrench, ¾ turn to loosen the adjacent spokes and ¼ turn to tighten the next two and we’re off with an almost true wheel.

The afternoon produced a lot more wind and a small flock of Sandhill Cranes in a field next to the road - Len’s first sighting in the wild.

Following a quick shower we were off the the Globe Laundromat - another 6 miles round trip to bring us up to 114; hopefully the longest day on the ride. The Globe, reputed to be the “nicer” of the two Laundromats within a few miles of the hotel remineded Len of the bar scene in the first Star Wars movie. I can see that.

At dinner, Jim calls neurosurgeon friend Joe Walker to inquire about some strange symptoms he developed suddenly in his right had a day ago. He has weakness only, mainly involving the small finger, but to a lesser extent more medial fingers. Joe isn’t sure what it’s all about because there are no sensory symptoms - no pain, numbness, tingling, etc. Next morning Jim checks email and Joe has sent an abstract describing a rare syndrome in cyclists that results in exactly the symptoms Jim has. Symptoms are the result of injury to the ulnar nerve in the palm of the hand. Gotta Love Joe. Hopefully, a day off from riding and Advil will be enough to at least partially heal the injury.

Day 37 (9 Sep 09) Manitowoc to Ludington, MI 6 miles riding, 60 miles by ferry

First breakfast, then Lowe’s (Jim’s looking for some sprinkler risers and pipe connectors to build a “Stick,” a device to massage sore muscles) and a replacement for the flashlight left who knows where (maybe Williston, ND), a stop at Starbucks and then the bike shop to catch the 10 AM opening and get the spoke fixed. After fixing the spoke, we have a long conversation with the shop owner who tells us about a group of 4 people who started a ride like ours and showed up at his shop SEPARATELY over several days. Seems they didn’t get along too well.

Len left the shop for a while to check out the Wisconsin Maritime Museum and the submarine parked at the dock. At one time there was a large submarine construction facility in Manitowoc (pronounced by the locals Mani-two-wok with emphasis on the last syllable). The subs got to the ocean via the Mississippi River through the Chicago ship canal - no guns, no fuel, no torpedos, etc. so draft was only 18 feet! He also encounters a retired fellow who used to work on the SS Badger (boiler cleaner), upon which we now travel. He learns that the Badger is the last steam ship operating on Lake Michigan.

We’re celebrities in downtown Manitowoc. Len walks out the door of the bike shop and a guy stops him to talk about our trip. We get directions to the nearest coffee shop and the young guy at the shop wants to know all about our trip and then tells everyone who walks in about it. Len goes next door looking for a Manitowoc souvenir and the store owner wants to know all about what we’re up to. At any moment we’re expecting a visit from a reporter for the Manitowoc Herald!

At Starbucks we saw an article in the Herald about a windmill tower that was being transported from Manitowoc. When we arrive at the Badger, they are being loaded on the ferry! There are four tower segments, up to 91feet in length and 15 feet in diameter. Two are already on the Badger and one is loaded as we lash down our bicycles. We capture the 4^th on film as it is being loaded. The trucks carrying each segment are impressive.

We arrive in Ludington and head directly to a nearby hotel. Short day on the bike.

　

Day 35 Crandon to Shawano

Day 35 (7 Sep 09) Crandon to Shawano 92 miles

We ate breakfast with the variably hung over bush racing fans from Texas - yes, they came all the way from Texas. How’d we learn the name of the “sport,” you ask? Later in the day in Pella we stopped into Hurricane Dawn’s café (couldn’t get the story on why Dawn got the nickname Hurricane) for water and in the course of discussion with the young woman tending bar (Dawn was in the kitchen), we learned the term “bush racing” and that it was the biggest deal in this area all summer. From the Texans, we heard about the Jurassic Park Bar, a place where you can see a 400 pound guy go down a mud slide with three women on his back and land in a pool full of mud. Guess if you’ve had enough to drink, something like that could be a lot of fun to watch.

At mid-morning we made a wrong turn (the map instructions were a little vague) and after going a half mile decided that we were going the wrong direction and turned around. Upon reaching the intersection where we made the wrong turn, we encountered a farmer on a tractor that must have been 50 years old and decided to ask directions to verify our sense that we had been going the wrong way. He had to turn the tractor off to hear us and after a short discussion wasn’t sure the tractor would start again. It started immediately, but then he decided he wanted to know more about what we were doing and turned it off again. After a much longer discussion, the tractor started reluctantly and the farmer tooled off in the direction from which we had come and we rode on to Mattoon, the next town on our way to Shawano (pronounced by the farmer “Shaw-no.”

Despite the distance, today’s ride was easier than any in the previous 5 days; relatively few hills and only one quite long and granny gear steep hill. At the top, we saw a sign for a family ski area intoning “think snow.” Unfortunately, I (Jim) have developed a little numbness in his left hand and weakness in the right. Time for new gloves and more attention to regularly changing hand/arm position.

Len wants me to tell you about the two trucks that passed us going like bats out of hell. They smelled so bad it was like the drivers were trying to get away from the contents they were hauling. Why the second truck was following the first so close, I’ll never understand. There were several pipes sticking out of the backs of the tank trailers covered with brown stuff, presumably pig feces. Never want to smell anything like that again.

Day 34 Boulder Junction to Crandon

Day 34 (6 Sep 09) Boulder Junction to Crandon, WI 77 miles.

A quick breakfast in the room and we’re on the Crystal Lakes bike trail a little after 7 AM. On County Road K at 7:30, we see sunlight filtered by gossamer mist in the trees. Quite beautiful. A Palliated Woodpecker flies across the road 20 feet in front of me (Jim). At first I think it’s a duck, then I recognize the bright red splash on the back of its head. Len missed it because he was adjusting his mirror. The nature of chance. Here come the hills - the first requires the granny gear.

How dare those motorcycle riders wave to us? They should bow to us as we ride the rollers and push the wind. They can stop at any bar, smoke a few ciggies, swill a few beers and buzz right past us again. They have no idea that today I (Len) want to hop on one of those beasts and get the rollers done with. A yellow Vespa beside the road - $400, helmet included - beckons me.

Actually , we rode through the Chequemegon-Nicolet National Forest on a scenic byway and the quiet of the forest was beautiful without the sound or smell of motors. There was the occasional truck pulling a boat. When you buy a truck in this part of Wisconsin it comes with a boat, trailer and bait bucket. Part of the stimulus package for this section of the country.

We stop for lunch (the aforementioned motorcycle group already on the bar side) at the Hile Inn and get an education in menu reading. Leonard, still looking for polenta does not know:

Paddles - hot wings without sauce

Bottle caps - sliced jalapeño, deep fried

Popper - deep fried jalapeño covered with cheese

Bskt - slaw and fries

Curds - lightly breaded, fried cheese

But wait there is more; at dinner we learn that “Wisconsin Veggies” are:

Battered fried mushrooms

Battered fried Cheddar Snaps

Battered fried cauliflower and cheese

Battered fried broccoli with cheese

Battered fried mozzarella sticks

Battered fried onion rings

We have put in about 2500 miles, but we stay away from these veggies and get the burgers instead. Little wonder half the people around here exceed their optimal body weight by a factor of 2 or more!

We arrive in Crandon. Some kind of off-road vehicle race going on. A huge fairground is full of RVs, campers, etc. Looks like a very BIG deal for a town of population 1961. Looked like a Cycle Oregon campsite only with campers instead of tents. Hotel room is really nice; dinner sucks.

Days 31 to 33 Osceola, WI to Boulder Junction

Day 31 (03 Sep 09) Osceola to Birchwood 88 miles

After breakfast at the River Valley Inn, we made a stop at the Coffee Connection on our way out of Osceola. It was a bit of a late start for a 90 mile day, but what the heck, this is a tour, not a race. After an easy ride into town, we were confronted with a very steep hill for so early in the ride. We made it up the hill, whereupon, Jim discovered that his rear derailleur would not shift down. Ultimately, we discovered that the kickstand was compressing the derailleur wire. The problem is resolved by repositioning the kickstand. The kickstand (a two legged affair) seemed like a good idea and it works fine when the bike isn’t loaded down with 40 to 50 pounds of stuff. Because of the torque on the point of attachment, the stand comes loose from the bike frame and then contacts the left pedal crank producing a clicking noise with each revolution of the crank - very annoying! After trying a variety of solutions, the best seems to be to attach it securely and not use it - an extra useless pound to haul across the country.

On the way out of Osceola, we experienced high density auto traffic for the first time since day 2 of the ride! However, in a short while, we were back in farm country. As the day progressed we encountered more and more small hills which at the end of the day added up to almost 2900 feet of climbing, bettered only by our days back in Washington and western Montana. In addition to farm land early in the day, we are now beginning to see much more forest, quite similar to New England.

We stopped for lunch at a funky little restaurant, the County Line (at the county line strangely enough) where we talked to a couple of farmers and the proprietress. The farmers were quite interested in all of the details of our journey and answered a few questions we had about crops and equipment. You may recall that we were speculating about why we were seeing so much corn - the farmers answered in unison: “crop insurance.” Which we inferred to mean crop subsidies, i.e., a no lose crop. We learned about dry and wet corn (neither Len nor I could remember why dry corn is preferable). All the corn we were seeing was destined for animal feed, ethanol, or processing into other products used by consumers (see Michael Pollin’s book “The Omnivores Dilemma” for all you really want to know about the things that are made from corn. We had noticed that the corn plants seemed small and our observation was confirmed - the corn is about 30 days behind schedule, in terms of growth. Dairy herds are being sold because the low price of milk cannot sustain small herds. The first frost is in mid-September. We’d better hurry up and move on.

After a somewhat frustrating day of up down, up down, we ended the day with a “Wally ride” that kept us on the best road we’d been on all day and made for a quick, smooth ride into Birchwood.

Day 32 (04 Sep 09) Birchwood to Clam Lake 69 miles

We go to Pappa Pete’s for breakfast in the Bluegill Capitol of the World. Len has “the Hook, Line and Sinker” and Jim French toast - no bluegill for either of us. We only have 69 miles to ride; practically a rest day. We have time for a sit down breakfast rather than the banana-yogurt room breakfast. I don’t see any mullet hairdos this morning.

“Grumpy” is carved in stone threshold to Pappa Petes. Seven men are playing dice at the bar to determine who pays for the coffee. You have to be there at 5 AM to play the game. Cooking does not start until 6 AM. Menu items include: Hook, Line and Sinker, Bills Usual, Garbage Can.

We order. As we are eating we hear the waitress say good morning to Bill. This is Bill of “Bill’s Usual.” Bill orders the usual after a moment thinking whether he would like to substitute a sausage patty instead of links. However, on consideration he gets the usual.

Waitress to the kitchen, “ Bill will have the Usual.” Turns out that Bill lost his wife and teeth some time ago. He tended the boiler at the local mill for 60 years, 7 days a week. He eats at Pappa Petes and no matter what he orders the price is $3.25 food + $1.00 coffee + tax = $4.48. Others pay the menu price. it’s a small town thing. He and the owner have been neighbors for years. We didn’t meet Pete unless that was him on the threshold.

The most pleasant part of the ride is through the Chequamegon National Forest. We see swamps, hardwoods, wild flowers, hear birds and see beaver lodges. When we reach State Highway 77 there are warning lights for elk crossings. As it turns out we did hear crashing in the forest when we were pedaling. Speaking to Dan at the Elkhorn Lodge it probably was elk who live near highway.

Our room is on and ATV trail. Dan, the president of the local ATV club and the self-appointed mayor of Clam Lake tells us of hunting, ATV rides and the quiet life of Clam Lake. The antlers at the Elkhorn Lodge are huge; we learn that they are dropped antlers from Dan’s uncle’s 22,000 acre ranch in Montana where he does not allow hunting and the elk have the chance to grow big antlers. One of the sets is the third largest on record - they are huge; wish we’d taken a photo but can’t see how it would have done them justice.

Elkhorn Lodge, home cooking, bar and rooms is For Sale for those of you who want a life style change. We’re moving on to our next destination, Boulder Junction.

Day 33 (05 Sep 09) Clam Lake to Boulder Junction 81 miles

Breakfast at the Elkhorn: Clam Lake Special for Jim and a short stack and an egg for Len. Dan shows up and as we leave, we run into him in the parking lot. He tells us about the wolf population in the area, about 700! Two of them walked off with a local lady’s “weener” dog last week. I thought of Doggie Diner J . We talk a little more about ATV’s and a bicycle club that gets together with the ATV club to do a wilderness ride. About the cyclists in relation to wolves he cracks, “meals on wheels.” The guy is a character in every sense of the word.

While waiting for me, Len strikes up a conversation with our hotel room neighbor. We found about a dozen ATVs in front of the motel when we went to breakfast. All belong to a 32 member ATV club from Rockport, IL. Our neighbor consumes 4 cigarettes while Len talks to him. Unfortunately, we don’t have an extra day to spend in Clam Lake. We had to miss the greased pig chasing contest to be held at the Bucksnort Inn. I kid you not! We both noticed it on our way into Clam Lake; a dilapidated, For Sale white building with pealing paint and broken-down snow mobiles decorating the grounds. Was it really a going concern? Guess while the guys are mixing it up with the bear hunters (more on that later), the wives and girl friends of the younger ATVers and anyone else who wants to catch a pig, dresses up in a tee-shirt and tries to tackle a pig. Sounds like quite a show - best attended fortified with plenty of beer. We would have stayed but were concerned about the effects of the second hand smoke on our delicate biking lungs.

Off we go! We’re on state highways for the first 26 miles - smooth sailing. Len sees muddy hoof prints on the road which we interpret as elk tracks. At 16 miles we arrive at Glidden, Black Bear Capital (didn’t say of what). Seems like everywhere around here is the capital of something or the home of something else. Len remembers that the chain-smoking ATV guy from Rockport says its bear season. Too bad for Glidden. Next is Buttercup, home of the Mighty Midgets! We didn’t see any midgets. Guess they were still in bed after a late night out with the leprechauns - like the ATV folks. We’ve got a couple of more capitals captured in the photos.

We eat lunch in Mercer at Johnny’s Bar and Café and talk to some local folks about our trip. After lunch we’re on the J, the W and the K. When we’re on the “dub-yuh” we take the opportunity to, well use your imagination, on “dub-yuh.” A little later we notice a street sign: “No Name Road.” Pretty original. At the moment the K is known as Last Resort Road - we didn’t know what to make of that and thought it best to move on quickly. I would have called it Frost Heave Haven Road - worst road we’ve been on the whole trip excluding the dirt roads.

We encounter another cyclist, local guy just out for a spin. He tells us that he once trained to be a trip leader for Adventure Cycling (we’re using their maps). Says he never lead a trip - always wanted to ride across the country. Unlike us, he’ll probably regret he never did it. We decline an invitation to stay at his cabin since we already had a reservation in Boulder Junction on a holiday weekend and needed to do laundry. Len is now the chief fiduciary for the laundry trust fund. Laundry done, we go for dinner - something other than hamburger, pizza, etc. Amazing the difference between Clam Lake and Boulder Junction. Boulder Junction has a bunch of restaurants, gift shops, an art gallery, coffee shops, a bakery and Clam Lake, well you should have the idea from the descriptions of the people.

Day 30 Milaca to Osceola, WI

2 Sep 09 Milaca, MN-Osceola, WI via Cambridge and the Outer Edge Bike Shop 83 miles

Cold ground fog as we leave at 7:00 AM. Us in our double layers and ear warmers. The kids waiting for the bus in their t-shirts. School just started.

The sun is just beginning to warm the farm land and there is no wind. The wind comes about 10:00 AM when things warm up. 25 miles into a rough road Len hears tick, tick, tick. Jim hears tick, tick, tick. Several stops and Len can’t find the source of the tick, tick, tick. Jim thinks the tick, tick, tick is from his bottom bracket.

Up a hill Len finds the source of his tick, tick, tick. It is a roofing nail in his rear tire. Stop in the driveway of a run down farm. “No trespassing” sign on the posts to the driveway. Hope there is no dog here. We have been chased by several dogs; sometimes 3 at a time. One dog was so big he appeared to be a pony from a distance.

Tick, tick, tick the rusty windmill turned in the wind. Len repairs the flat by changing to a spare tire and new tube. Under the tick, tick, tick, Jim pulls out his computer and updates the way points on the GPS from his computer. Len is thinking here we have an old tech windmill and a nail in the tire while Jim is up dating the GPS (he calls it a “field update.” We both laugh - have to find humor somewhere. Wonder if the computer can transport us to a bike shop?

Jim looks at the map and sees a bike shop in Cambridge so we take a detour. The Blackberry finds Larson Cycles. Larson Cycles is motorcycles. The Blackberry directs us to Outer Edge Bike and Board Sports. Len gets a new tire, Jim gets his left crank tightened, we put air in the tires and go to Caribou Coffee (a local favorite and check rated by Consumer Reports) and get ready for the last 40+ miles to cross the St. Croix River into Wisconsin.

Usual duties laundry, bike maintenance. Jim goes to town for parts for his kick stand. Gets another flat in town. We heard that our friends Daphne and Kathleen rode across the US with no rain and no flats. We are not riding in that bubble. In fact, Jim has decided that we are being haunted by the flat tire gremlin - misery.

We walk across the parking lot of our motel and discover that the restaurant is being remodeled. Back on the bikes to town, about a mile away. We decide on the Happy Panda since we’ve had no Chinese food on the trip, not daring to try those places who signs advertise “Chinese American.” The Happy Panda is a very happy choice indeed. Hot and sour soup, kung po chicken and broccoli in brown sauce with steamed rice to round out a great meal. We return to reattach the kickstand and patch Jim’s tire. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Day 29 Long Prairie to Milaca

Day 29 (01 Sep 09) Long Prairie to Milaca 81 Miles

Coldest morning start yet - 42 degrees (feels like 40). As we left Long Prairie, we were greeted by islands of ground fog hovering over the fields and sometimes the road. As we glide downhill into a low areas with fog the temperature drops noticeably. Despite the intermittent fog, the sky is clear - not a cloud in sight. We pass a small flock of wild turkeys and see our first Osprey since the mountains of Montana.

Speaking of turkeys, this is turkey and chicken farming country. Yesterday we saw a big truck load of turkeys driving through Long Prairie on their way to the butcher. That explains all the white feathers we’ve been seeing along the roadway. Again, there’s lots of corn growing in the fields and we speculate that much of the corn may be used for turkey/chicken feed in addition to going for ethanol production?

We looked forward to crossing the “mighty” Mississippi River mid-morning. It was so mighty that no one even bothered to name it at the overpass and we rode by not realizing what we’d just crossed. We came to Royalton “City on the Platte” two miles later and realized that we’d missed the Mississippi. On the east edge of Royalton lies the Platte River, once again, not identified by the city that claims it! Strange people these Minnesotans. We stopped for lunch at the Ramey Store (tiny grocery store, gas station and bar) and chatted briefly with the proprietress about our day’s ride, where we originally started, etc.

The wind the last three days has followed a predictable pattern that hopefully will not persist. Not much wind in the early morning, picking up mid-morning and reaching full intensity by about 11:00 AM. All three days it’s come from the south or southeast. Since our path has been almost as much south as east, it’s meant a lot of headwind and little relief even in crosswind. It’s made for long days on the bike.

Upon arrival at the west edge of Milaca, today’s destination, we discovered that the bridge crossing the Rum river was closed and that there was detour. We start on the detour and see no immediate turn to head east. Again we’re headed south into the wind, this time with a lot of truck traffic. We turn around to investigate the possibility of crossing the river, thinking that maybe the bridge may be passable on bicycle. No such luck. Jim spies a lady down the street taking groceries out of her car and asks if there’s another way to cross the river without taking the detour. She says the detour takes you 6 miles to another town and that you then have to go back the other way to get to Milaca. However, if you go down the dead end street across from her street you can go through the cemetery and cross the river on an old train bridge that’s been converted to a foot bridge. Len wants to know if one of us has to die to get through the cemetery - she doesn’t get the joke, but we laugh and head to the grave yard. Along the way, we are accompanied by a young father and his seven year old daughter who are out for a bike ride and are also fishing. They show us the way to the bridge, we cross and after consulting the GPS on Jim’s Blackberry, find our way to the night’s lodging place.

Day 28 Battle Lake to Long Prairie

Day 27 (30 Aug 09) Fargo, ND to Battle Lake, MN100 miles

46 degrees F and leaving Fargo, ND. Last night at the HoDo Restaurant our waitress, who is from Brentwood, CA, tells us of winter customers who leave their cars running while dining at the HoDo. Running because it gets down to -25F. She said she stays indoors during the winter and can’t wait to get back to CA.

People leave their cars running even while they fill up on gas to keep the car warm. 46 F is a warm summer morning for Fargo. We are wearing our jackets, but the locals appear in shorts and tee-shirts or no shirt at all.

Downtown is surrounded by railroad tracks on 2 sides, the Red River of the North on the east side and endless shopping malls on the west side. Early Sunday morning we ride past the malls. As soon as we turn east and cross the river we are into MN farm land. Rich black dirt and ground fog are all around us.

As we climb out of the Red River Valley it is obvious that we have left the prairie. A dramatic shift to rolling hills, endless lakes, hardwood trees, and green, green everywhere. Frogs are the road kill of the day. More corn and soybeans.

This must be the place where the long green lawn was invented. It appears that everyone got the memo to have a neat lawn carefully mowed. Neat as a pin farm houses along the way. Signs don’t tell us about the next town, but point us to the next Lutheran Church.

We do a bit of climbing and fighting the wind and feel the 100 miles in our legs.

Battle Lake is a small resort town with limited lodging (we picked the lesser of the two - with no reviews how would we know) a small grocery store and several restaurants including Stella’s where we ate. Stella’s does a booming business during the summer and is closed all of January and February. All of the staff are interested in our bike trip and quite surprised when we tell them we rode from Fargo that day. Guess the day off in Fargo didn’t help - probably would have felt better if we’d done the ride on Saturday without “benefit” of rest. On the other hand, Fargo was fun and worth the brief time we spent there.

Day 28 (31 Aug 09) Battle Lake to Long Prairie 64 miles

We awoke to another flat tire, this time on Jim’s bike. Among the things in our various packages received at the Radisson in Fargo was a Slime tube in Jim’s tire size. For those of you who don’t know, Slime is a product that can be put inside a bicycle tire tube and is said to instantly seal any hole up to one eighth inch in diameter. You can buy tires pre-Slimed or add the Slime yourself. Hopefully, the next bike shop will carry Slime in the form that allows you to add it to a non-Slimed tube. We’re both tired of mucking with tires and tubes.

We got a bit of a late start out of Battle Lake and began the ride with a moderate (8 - 15 mph) south wind. Unfortunately, we went south almost as much as east, not unlike the previous day. Wind breaks help but the terrain is a mixture of open farmland and small hills; a lot of up and down (it always seems like more of the trip is up) and when open, subject to unfavorable wind. Once again we cross the Hudson Bay/Mississippi River divide.

The high point of the ride is Inspiration Peak, a 1600 foot mound topped by hardwood trees. Not sure how inspiring it is, but things like this are relative. We pass lots of small farms, but the scenery is not as reminiscent of the Sierra Foothills in spring as yesterday. We stop in Parker’s Prairie for late morning snack/lunch and chat with the ladies at the check out stand in Sammy’s Store and gas station. They wish us well and we ride on to Long Prairie. Shortly out of Parker’s Prairie, a farmer driving a tractor pulling a wagon passes us. He’s going a little faster than we are so we decide to do a little drafting. He pulls us 6 miles at 18 - 19 mph, a great boost, we head south the entire time we are behind him and avoid some of the worst of the wind. Posted on the back of the wagon is a weathered bumper sticker reading “Have you hugged your hog today?” The sticker is from the Iowa Hog Shed Restaurant.

It is a relatively short day, but we need the rest after yesterday’s challenging 100 mile ride. In Long Prairie we have time to do laundry, a little grocery shopping and blog catch-up.

Days 25 & 26 Grand Forks to Fargo

Days 25 and 26 (28 & 29 Aug 09) Grand Forks, ND to Fargo, ND 85 miles

We cross the Red River of the North, which flows into Canada, and enter East Grand Forks, MN - not quite good-bye to North Dakota. It is a gray day with a north wind pushing us south.

Along the way in Montana and North Dokata, we have been stopping in CenEx gas stations. In the Climax CenEx there are 3 farmers sitting at one of the tables playing cards for quarters. We ask the oldest (80 years old) why he’s not out working the fields instead of wasting time and playing cards for quarters. The old guy with the ”Beta Seeds” baseball hat does not skip a beat. He keeps playing the card game while bantering with us about riding bikes. We tell him we don’t like ND because of the wind but MN is much better for us. He tells us about how his daughter, now living in Florida, observed that Montana “blows” and North Dakota “suck,” all with a straight face. In the meantime, he keeps getting good cards and to the disappointment of his card mates he wins the pot of quarters.

Along the way, a golden retriever greets us coming out of the soybean fields. This is flat, river bottom land with rich soil where farmers grow wheat, soybeans and sugar beets. The towns of about 100 pop are about 10 miles apart. We are worried that the retriever will follow us too far and we throw him a banana peel to try to distract him while we take off on our bikes. He grabs it and runs along side us at 18 to 20 mph. Eventually, he drops the peel when he has to hang out his tongue and switches to running on the grass instead of the gravel shoulder. He gives up in just under a ½ mile, but when he was next to us it was great to see him just fly; amazing what a young dog can do. (His photo is attached.)

This is the land of neat-as-a-pin farms and Lutheran Churches. Moorhead houses the world wide headquarters of the Old Lutheran Church and the Center for Lutheran Pride (but “not too proud;” you‘ve got to love the sign - see photo).

After reaching Climax earlier in the day, we came to Moorhead before entering Fargo (we thought we were in the Pennsylvania Dutch country). Leave no opportunity unexploited.

In Moorhead we cross the river and return to North Dakota where we will take a day off from riding, repair the bikes, and view the local sites.

We stay at the Radisson downtown with “sleep number beds” and nearby fine Italian food. What a change from the hammock-like beds in Rockport, WA and the cardboard pizza in the roughneck smokey bar in Stanley, MT. It may be hard to get back on the bikes on Sunday morning when all good Lutheran‘s should be in church contemplating the farmer‘s credo: “sow your wild oats on Saturday night and pray for crop failure on Sunday morning.”

On Saturday in Fargo we find all the things we need: a great bike shop where Len replaces his worn chain, Jim finds a great pair of Specialized biking tights for those cold New England fall mornings to come and both enjoy gelato - yes, gelato in a bike shop! We make a stop at Happy Harry’s for a bottle of Seghesio Barbera and find Boppa’s Bagel shop serving the best bagels west of NYC. It’s amazing what you can do on a bicycle when you open your mind to the possibilities.

We wrap up the day with a walk across the Red River of the North to Minnesota to visit the Historical & Cultural Society of Clay County featuring the Hjemkomst (Yom-comst) Viking Ship (an incredible 79 foot replica of a 12^th century Viking ship conceived and built by Robert Asp in 1980, a Moorhead school guidance counselor, that sailed to Norway in 1982 - see all the photos in the web album) and the Hopperstad Stave Church Replica. The church is a to scale replica of a church in Vig, Norway. We took the guided tour presented by a very knowledgeable docent and accompanied by a most well behaved miniature poodle and his masters. A great day indeed!

Days 23 and 24 Rugby to Devils Lake to Grand Forks

Day 23 (25 Aug 09) Rugby to Devils Lake 58 Miles

No new photos for either days 23 or 24.

Wally’s ride (see recent post for definition) has begun in earnest! Due to forecasted wind directions and intensity and the absence of anything but tiny towns with limited choice of lodging, we’ve decided to abandon the recommended Adventure Cycling route and stick to US 2, our riding companion for all of our trip through Montana and North Dakota (about 1100 miles!). The road surface is generally excellent, there is little traffic and the North Dakota drivers are incredibly courteous, almost always pulling into the outer lane whether we’re on the shoulder to the right of the fog line or on the pavement when rumble strip or lack of sufficient shoulder require that we ride on the pavement. In 350 miles I cannot recall a single time when someone honked at us except as a friendly gesture! The sides of the road are incredibly clean, even the cities lack trash on the streets. When we were in Minot we observed a young woman spontaneously pick up a discarded Pepsi cup on the sidewalk and put it in a trash can. Hard winters must change people. I wouldn’t want to live here, but the people have earned my respect.

It was a long day on the bike again (over 5 hours). Scenery was relatively invariant although we are beginning to see a lot more small lakes surrounded by cat tails and occupied by ducks and a few herons (Great Blue and Green spotted). It was a combination of head and side wind. We’re trying to come up with different names for the various winds we experience (like the 100+ Eskimo words for snow). No good ideas yet. If you have any let us know.

Devils Lake, ND had a lot more to offer than Rugby. After cleaning up at the very nice Fireside Inn and starting a load of laundry, we crossed US 2 to Wally’s Supermarket which provided sustenance for the next day’s ride. We were both famished and went looking for a place called Kneadful Things (baked on site bread and other goodies). Len gave up but with his trusty (sort of) Blackberry GPS, Jim persisted and eventually found Kneadful Things, for he was truly needful (of food; riding a bicycle for long distances is hard work). He scored a Black Forest tort which turned out to be really good. Despite an inclination gobble the whole thing, he resisted and saved half for Len, who was half asleep reading in the room.

Since we generally elect to walk to dinner rather than ride our bikes, our choices are limited. This time the Pizza Ranch which served, guess what, Pizza and fried chicken. A decent salad bar, ok chili and a lot of that blue-colored Power Aide along with pizza and chicken rounded out the dinner.

Day 24 (26 Aug 09) Devils Lake to Grand Forks, ND 90 miles

Our intended destination is Cooperstown, but they have only a smoking room. We book the room, but are a bit ambivalent. We check the weather more than the local farmers. Jim’s Blackberry tells of south to southwest wind. Cancel Cooperstown and continue the off route Wally ride.

Our destination is 90 miles away and get a 7:00AM start. Cloudy, gray sky promises rain. The storm front is diagonal to us. We get some sprinkles, but decide not to put on rain gear and try to out run the front.

We are headed to the Valley of the Red River of the North which is the dividing line between the arid plains and the humid east. It feels more humid, but that could be because of the threat of rain and the many small lakes we pass. This is no longer the flat, broad plains, but rolling hills carved by the glacier.

More lakes, more ducks, more corn, less wheat and we pedal. We stop for short breaks, maybe because we are concerned of a strong headwind coming up and making the 90 miles a brutal thrashing. There were a few shifts, but not much of a headwind. The 90 miles seems easier than the 60 into the wind and it is. We get a favorable almost tail wind and breeze into Grand Forks at 20 mph.

What happened to vegetables? Its been fried chicken for me (Leonard) for 2 days straight. All these farms and this black dirt there must be some vegetables. We are in Grand Forks, ND and to paraphrase Sarah Palin, “We can see Minnesota from our front porch!” And that’s where we’re going tomorrow; a due south ride with a predicted north wind and a return to North Dakota, Fargo at the end of the day followed by a day of no riding. Off to the Texas Roadhouse for, what else, steak and a few vegetables for the effete West Coast guys.

Post Script about the wind:

Sign 25 miles outside of Grand Forks:

“Grand Forks CountyWorld’s Largest Concentration

Of Tree Wind Barriers”

　

　

　

Days 17 to 22 Malta. MT to Rugby, ND

Days 17 to 22 Malta to Glasgow to Culbertson to Williston, ND to Stanley to Minot to Rugby 424 Miles

Because of the length of this post, we have not included any photos with the post. Please go to the appropriates days in the full photo album.

Across the great grass river, the northern great plains. What an incredible expanse. Riding across on a bicycle is the only mechanized mode of travel that allows you to understand the enormity of this place. There is beauty here, but understanding it requires a different perspective, similar to what is required to see the beauty in the high desert, basin and range land of Nevada or more starkly, the open ocean with no land in sight.

Credit for the following entries belongs largely to Len who has been keeping a daily written journal of our travels. Without his journal it would have been far more difficult to retrospectively capture the spontaneity of our experiences.

Day 17 (20 Aug 09)

The mystery of so many body shops and windshield shops is solved! These little towns may not have a bank, motel or restaurant, but they will have 2 body shops. Why? Hot, too much traffic in this prairie/slag terrain and people drive fast!

At the Raiders Quick Stop in Hinsdale, MT we see a bumper on a pickup truck (duelly) as big as a cow catcher on a train. The licence announces: “FURHNTR.” I ask the propane delivery man about it. He says the bumper save at least $1000 in car damage if you hit any kind of wildlife going 100 mph (or 30 for that matter, thinks Jim) on these roads. He then says he hit a grouse that did $1500 damage to his car by penetrating the plastic grill and entering the engine compartment. Montana SUV’s and trucks are “up-armored” in the after market.

He also tells us that the owner of the truck must be a licensed coyote because of the horn on the bumper. It makes a sound like a crying rabbit to lure a coyote. 300 are killed in one hunt and the next year it’s the same. Yet, the coyote population does not seem to be affected. The hunters are licensed by the state. Wolves are the coyote’s only preditor but the wolves don’t pass through much.

We push against a north wind and the day is slow (it takes us over 5 hours to go 72 miles; little did we know what the future would bring). When we ride on an east heading of 97 degrees, the wind comes from the side and slows us down; a slight turn to 111 degrees and our speed increased 5 mph. Wheat, corn, prairie and dead rattle snakes mark the day.

Jim began the day with a flat tire discovered as he wheeled the bike out of the room. He couldn’t find the hole in the tube so he pumped up the tire and we moved on. It held for 40 miles. He pumped it up several more times and each time it deflated more quickly. We made it to the Cottonwood Inn where the project of finding the holes in the tubes and their cause began. We find that the “bike shop” reputed to be in Glasgow is in fact a retired State Farm insurance agent by the name of Ron Guttenberg. Ron is now 75 and appears very fit when he arrives at our hotel room door with a new tire and tubes for Jim. After talking to Ron, we decide that another tire and a couple of patch kits are needed as well. A little while later Ron returns with the needed items and a floor pump that he leaves with us to be returned via the front desk of the hotel in the morning. Ron runs his on call bike shop as a hobby because he likes to helps bike travelers like us and because the nearest bike shop is in Minot ND, nearly 400 miles away. What incredible service!

Day 18 (21 Aug 09)

Covered with yesterday’s mosquito bites, we try for an early start (we‘ve decided to ride 103 miles because there are no decent places to stay in Poplar, our original stopping point. Foolishly I (Jim) decide to add a little more air to my newly restored tires, it was only a few pounds I think to myself. No problem with the front tire; now for the rear. The floor pump won’t connect with the valve stem properly. No problem, I think, I’ll just use the hand pump. The bike falls over while I’m pumping, inducing a small tear at the base of the stem. Scotty’s bridge (Startrek reference to photo of Jim’s navigation equipment photo from a previous day) breaks as well. So much for the early start and the comfort of having a couple of new tubes for the inevitable flats of the future.

We struggle against the wind all day. There is no escape. We try trading leading and following a mile at a time for 45 miles, finally reaching Wolf Point and never going faster than about 12 mph. We feel like dead meat and still have 58 miles to go. We put our heads down and go at our own pace.

When we reach Poplar, we discover that Lee Ann’s Hotel (the place we were thinking about staying) is closed. The convenience store run by the Fort Peck Tribe has thick cross-hatched wire over the windows. A succession of trashed cars pull up for single beers, a pack of cigarettes and a bag of chips. Nightmare in Clunkerville.

We talk to three Indian boys on BMX bicycles. They marvel at our bikes and seem unable to wrap their minds around the idea that we’re riding to Maine. The youngest, hasn’t even heard of Maine. We talk for awhile, tell them about our adventures, about where Maine is and we say goodbye.

At 80 miles we encounter steep hills. The wind dies a bit in the hills, but the uphill grade is just as tiring. Some of the hills seem to go on forever. You see what you think is the top and when you get there, there’s another hill. Culbertson seems to be the phantom of someone’s imagination. We think we should be able to see the town in the distance and cannot. The sun is getting low in the sky and our shadows on the road lengthen. Where is Culbertson? We arrive to find the Diamond Willow Inn has a sign announcing that it is the Elk Horn Inn. Part of the place looks like a double-wide! Have we entered the Twilight Zone? We expect Rod Sterling when we enter the office, but Kim is there and she provides us with two fans for our room because the windows are painted shut. We eat at the pizza place across the street and enjoy the chatter and comings and goings of local high school students.

About 5 miles before reaching Culbertson we see a sign announcing the Rolling Hills Winery (sounds like something we could enjoy after 103 hard miles on the road). The winery includes a car wash and a bathroom. Jim decides it looks like a good business prospect and Len takes a picture of him in front of the place the next morning. Only the car wash seems to be operational.

Day 19 (22 Aug 09) 44 miles. Culbertson, MT - Williston, ND

We leave the Diamond Willow in with its boarded up window late because of a short day ahead. Diamond Willow is also called Elk Horn Inn and is across from Me Too Pizza the local teenager hang out. When Me Too Pizza closed the town got very quiet.

The hostess of Diamond Willow reminds us of 13 miles of dirt road ahead. (The hostess was from Las Vegas and lost her airport shuttle bus driver job. She has not yet faced a Montana winter. We wish her luck.)

We are now on a toot-and-wave basis with the BNSF train engineers. Maybe they have seen us before. Then 13 miles of dirt road dodging water truck, pedaling in mud/sand and we cross into North Dakota and central time zone. The road turns to silk.

This is wheat and oil country of 600,000 people. Grass hoppers jump all around us and on us.

Williston is hot. Jim has another flat and discovers a broken spoke as we limp into the El Rancho Motel.

The El Rancho is where the Williston Oil Club meets. The restaurant is decorated with photos of oil wells and settling ponds.

We call Chris Robinson of Robinson Wheel Works in California (what would we do without a cell phone) and he advises that Jim can use a 31 spoke wheel and instructs us to loosen the 2 spokes next to the broken spoke and tighten the next 2 lateral spokes. The next bike shop is 132 miles away. We resolve to get an early start because we have 71 miles, possible wind and hot day ahead.

And so begins Wally’s ride. There are only a few cognoscenti who would recognize the full meaning of the reference to Wally’s ride. For those not so imbued, Wally is my (Jim) cousin Suzie’s husband and the proximate cause of Jim and Len’s meeting on Cycle Oregon IV in 1991. Wally knows Len’s wife’s brother in law. Back to Wally’s ride. By definition, a shorter, usually less arduous route to the day’s destination. In this case, Minot, two days away. The Adventure Cycling route would have taken us on rural roads, perhaps less traveled than US 2, but almost certainly not as well maintained and 25 miles longer than the route we chose.

Day 20 (23 Aug 09) Williston, ND-Stanley, 71 miles. 8 ½ hours of pedaling

No early start. Leonard has a rear flat tire. We go north 12 miles and the wind is from the east. We turn east and the wind is blowing directly at us. The guess is constant at 15 to 20 and gusting to 30 mph and it is relentless. Why guess 30 mph? Our bikes with gear, racks and riders weigh over 200 pounds and the wind blows us sideways and slows us down to 3-4 mph with full effort.

This is like climbing a steep road up a mountain for 60 miles. The senior breakfast at the El Rancho is long ago. We make it to Ray, ND and its truck stop. We’ve traveled 33 miles and our ears are ringing from the constant hard wind. The wind is supposed to be (that’s under normal circumstances) from the southwest and pushing us. This is a direct east head wind.

Going down hill Leonard notices a rock stuck to his front tire. He tries to knock it off while riding, but it will not come off. He stops and sees it is the tube sticking out of the tire side wall. Then the blow out. (Good thing the blow out occurred now and not on the downhill. The last time Leonard had a blow out on a downhill it was second degree burns and 3 months out of work.)

Jim stops and gives Leonard the pump and tire irons. Suddenly, Jim is mobbed by bees. They swarm him and he tries to get away. He can’t discourage them and Jim has to escape. Leonard concentrates on a tire and tube change. Now that Jim is gone the bees crawl on his lips, eyelids, arms and under his helmet. But strangely, they do not sting! This makes for a quick tire and tube change. So quick that Leonard leaves the tire and tube on the road, grabs the tools, does not full fill the tire with air and tries to escape downhill. How can the bees fly in such wind? When will they stop following me? When they do, Leonard stops regroups to think what he may have left on the ground up the hill. Got everything, but the tire and tube and not going back to the swarm.

Down the hill more air in the tire, the stem breaks. Will we make Stanley in the wind? When we finally reach Stanley after 8 and one half hours on the bikes, we see something called “Motel“, but we are staying in the Prairie Host Motel (also, strangely, known as the Painted Horse Inn). We pedal into Stanley. Nothing is open, no people, It is like a nuclear winter hit this town. Leonard calls the Painted Horse and the hostess can’t give us directions. She is just from Missouri and works the front desk. Turns out the Motel is the Painted Horse Inn.

Smoke permeates the Inn and the only place to eat is the Painted Pony Bar filled with roughnecks. Drunk roughnecks. We get some cardboard pizza some second hand smoke and drunk advice from the roughnecks, one of whom is a truck driver who gives a lesson in the varying state laws regarding axel weight allowances. We finish our pizza and head for bed.

Day 21 (24 Aug 09) Stanley-Minot; 55 miles.

Next morning is humid. Initially the air seems clear, but within a few minutes after sunrise, the fog and mist set in. It’s like a spooky Boris Karloff movie. The mist hangs on our hair, and soaks our riding glasses. We have crossed from the arid west into a more humid zone. Breakfast at the trucker stop up the road from our Motel. Offerings include donuts, smokey joes, hot dogs, chips, Farmers Coffee, motor oil, chains. We talk to a couple of sober rough necks (seemingly a more sophisticated group than those encountered at the Painted Pony). They are local people who know the normal weather patterns and they can’t believe the summer they’ve been having - totally atypical, especially the previous day’s east wind! We don’t feel so bad.

It’s a bit cold outside, but we got to get to Minot where we hear of a good bike shop and maybe good coffee. On the ride we can smell the wheat and wild flowers after the rain/mist ends. We see ducks, herons, small lakes. We see spring wheat planted in the spring and harvested in August. Less gluten than winter wheat which is planted in the fall, sprouts and goes dormant during the snow season and grows in the spring. Spring wheat, we learn the next day, brings a better price for the farmer.

Val’s Cyclery in Minot is a gem. New spoke installed on Jim‘s bike, new tubes, new tire on Leonard’s and we are ready to role. Roy at Val’s is great, and understands bikes. He tells us of the hard core Minot riders who use studded tires in the -25F winter riding in Minot. If there is a breakdown the rider could freeze to death. He told us that the riders have the layering down to a science and one guy broke his collar bone and walked home two miles and survived. These guys must be REALLY tough and really dedicated to bike riding. One missed riding only three days last year!

Day 22 (25 Aug 09) Minot-Rugby 72 miles.

Sunny, easy day. So easy we play the game of how far are those trees? 5 miles, 6.2 miles. Good coffee in the morning. NY bagel sandwich packed in our bags for lunch; smooth road. No wind and we are riding above 16 mph. We should get into Rugby early. In fact there is the sign for the “Geographic Center of North America 5 Miles.”

We even have our own lane on this smooth cement surface. Leonard is thinking that he may have time for the Spanish verb endings and to think about Robin’s birthday on 26 Aug. What a beautiful day.

Today’s adventures found Len playing in the mud. The result is that his mud playing privileges have been permanently and irrevocably suspended. However, I shall say no more because this is truly his story to tell and you must hear it in his words. I would like to mention that near the climax of the action, Cecil B. DeMille drove by in his giant luxury road-liner and sensing an epic event in progress, stopped and immediately set his camera crew to work. The result is an OnTheRoad blog exclusive sneak preview viewable on the Day 22 section of the full photo album. Just click the Picasa Web Album link in the upper right side panel of the blog home page.

Boom! Leonard rides into a foot of wet cement. It looked smooth because the road builders put a white goo on the surface to make it cure faster. Leonard is stuck. Feet and bike buried in cement and leg twisted and trapped by a twisted head set. This could be the end of the ride.

Jim comes over and pulls Leonard out, but the bike may not be rideable because fresh cement is drying on the pedals, tires and brakes. Leonard’s legs are covered in goo and cement and his skin starts to burn from the lye in the cement.

We use our water bottles to get the bike going and pedal to the road crew. Leonard gets a few “what the f..cks?” from the road crew. However, the crew boss is great. He offers water and gasoline to clean Leonard and the bike. I guess there will be no time for Spanish verbs tonight.