Lakes to Mountains Tour

The Finish Line

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sat, 17 May 2008 02:43:00 +0000

Thurs May 15: Fort Morgan - Broomfield CO: 84 miles; mostly- to partly-cloudy, high 60?; 9:50-5:05.
The Big Question remained: could I break my end-of-trip jinx? In four of my previous tours (including the last three), various things have kept me from riding all the slated miles on the last day - weather, schedule, flats, injuries. Today, I faced an iffy weather forecast, with over 80 miles slated - including a dreaded stretch along I-76. Sue and my folks had both offered to pick me up, giving me an out.
I tried to ignore it all. The day started well when the waiter at breakfast asked about my tour, wishing me well. My morning talk at Trinity Lutheran School kept up the good karma, even with a misbehaving DVD. I extemporized, and mentioned the haunted health resort we passed on the walk. Of course that fascinated them, and when I opened it to their questions, every 4th or 5th query referred back to that: "Do you see any ghosts? Do you think it was REALLY haunted?"
After an hour, the teachers shooed them back to their classrooms, but not before a few asked for my autograph. To be fair to the others, two teachers then invited me into their classrooms to sign autographs for the rest. One girl reciprocated by handing me her sheet of math homework. Squeezed between the 2+2=4 & 6+6=12, she'd written, "Glenn rocks".
Then I hit the highway. I soon discovered the dangers of Google Maps, as one road abruptly ended, forcing a 3/4-mile backtrack and a stint on gravel. When another proposed turn would have put me on a gravel frontage road, I rethought that route.
The first hour-and-a-third went slowly to Wiggins, as a sidewind and rolling hills kept my speed to 12.6 mph average. Then came the stretch I'd worried over, 10.4 miles on the interstate.
Isn't deja vu nice? In 1994 we'd fretted over the same stretch of road, but it had turned into a delightful day. The road curved a bit southward, putting the wind slightly at my back. (My average on the road for the rest of the day was 14.6.) With the smooth going and the iffy Google directions, I stayed on the highway for another three exits, over 27 miles before finding a frontage road I trusted.
The predicted storms happened, of course, but they were scattered. I could see cloudbursts to the south, to the north, and ahead of me. Three times I rode over wet pavement. When the sun hid behind the clouds, the wind chilled me, but when the sun came out (more and more as the day wore on), I couldn't have hoped for better riding conditions.
Rather than tiring me out, every mile under my wheels energized me. When I hit 144th Ave and turned west to leave the frontage roads behind, I could almost smell the finish. Every milepost I reached, every new road I turned on, elicited a hearty "YES!"
When I hit Thornton at mile 71, where I could catch some of my favorite trails the rest of the way home, I tasted the victory. Not even a leaking front tire dampened my spirits; I pumped it back up at mile 73, and the goop inside plugged the leak. Sprinkles ten minutes later forced me to don my rain jacket, but it stopped in only five minutes.
The sun came out in full force by the time I hit Broomfield, so I shucked both jackets for the last five miles - only the fourth time this cold-weather trip I had done so. Minutes past 5:00, I rolled exuberantly up Bellaire Ct, and pronounced the finish - and the trip - a true winner.

The Trip Hangs in the Balance

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Fri, 16 May 2008 14:48:00 +0000

Wed May 14: Sterling - Ft. Morgan CO: 48 miles; scattered clouds, 73 at 3:30; 9:35-3:20.
The best one can hope for is to finish a trip on a high note, making it easier to consider another trip in the future. I haven't always reached that goal, and last night's debacle threatened to taint my last week.
Today took care of it: a headwind that kept my speed to 12.5 mph, the trip's second flat - and people that make trips like this so memorable.
The day got rolling at Smith Alternative High School. The small facility catered to kids overwhelmed by the large, mainstream high school, such as the student who'd just moved from Julesburg (where the class sizes run 2-10 students per class). the kids listened attentively, and several came up afterwards to thank me for my visit.
Sharon Norton (my teacher contact) and a few students urged me to stop in Merino on my way south to see the woodcarver. It took a long hour to bike there, but would have been worth a detour. I pulled onto the short main street and asked a man in a blue workman's pullover, "Can you direct me to the woodcarver's studio?"
"That would be me! It's right in here." Brandon Rhea led me into his workplace, quite the contrast from the nondescript facade outside. Colorful parrots, bronze busts, calliope horses, and more filled the first room. The second room hosted his most recent efforts. "I've always wanted to carve marble, so when I had the chance to get a couple of 30,000 pound blocks from Marble, CO, I jumped at the chance." He'd already carved one block into a jumble of winged angels, while the second block had just begun taking shape.
The back room contained one of his latest sculptures, a whimsical bronze statue based on a poem, The Dream Keeper. "Sometimes, though, my favorite pieces are works I do for my kid for school projects. This, for instance - they were studying sea life, so we made it out of recycled materials." He pointed to a turtle made of cardboard, floating among computer-paper-and-weed seaweeds, above a tin-foil sea bottom.
We talked about finding your calling, your niche in life - and about inspiring our next generation. "Sometimes you may not know you've instilled that spark," he reflected. "But years later, they may act on that seed you've sown. You'll likely never hear about it. You just have to trust that it will happen."
Before heading out, I gave him a copy of WOW! What a Ride. He thanked me sincerely, then looked more closely at the cover. "Ohmigosh! You ran with the Olympic torch! I ran with it when it came through Sterling!"
I next stopped at the cafe next door for a hot buttered blueberry muffin. One customer came up to ask about my trip, and the waitress and the other patrons in the cafe all wished me well.
My speed improved marginally as I headed to Brush for lunch. As I rolled up to the first cafe I spotted, I felt the familiar - and dreaded - thumps that indicated a rear flat. First things first, and that meant eating. When I finished, I asked the waitress if Brush had a bike shop, since fixing the flat would take my last spare. She asked someone else, who said no, but Fort Morgan (my final destination, ten miles distant) did. I thanked her for the information.
A moment later, I heard a slight commotion behind me. "Telling him it's in Fort Morgan doesn't help if he can't get there," I heard someone say. The next moment the speaker appeared at my table, asking if I needed help. Just a flat, I explained, telling him I shouldn't have a problem fixing it and making the next town.
Once in Fort Morgan, I first stopped at the newspaper offices. I remembered the building from our stop there in 1994, when I had to bully the paper into covering our walk. (Don't ask.) Next stop: the bike shop to top off the air in my tire. When I introduced myself, the shop owner said, "Ah! this must be you."
He handed me a flyer the library had crafted - a photo of an undulating road winding through a verdant forest, with a pink bikini photo-shopped onto the road's shoulder. "I'll be there tonight to see you!"
The library beckoned next, where I introduced myself to Kathy and Lanny (who'd designed the flyer). Besides the flyer, they had my books perched on top of a display case containing a diorama of a mountain scene with two cardboard bicycles on a road with miniature litter scattered about.
My final library talk went well, despite DVD problems. Ten people enjoyed my tales of the road, both by foot and bike. The library provided refreshments afterwards, while a few attendees checked out my laden bike.
And a final chuckle, especially for people who own cats. At the motel, the owner's cat resembled one of my own, with it's black coat and white belly, nose, and paws. When I asked its name, the clerk replied, "Diablo Retardo."

Magic Moments Trump Debacles

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Fri, 16 May 2008 03:06:00 +0000

Tues May 13: Jules burg to Sterling CO: 59 miles; high 50s, cloudy then sunny late; 11:00-4:00.
I pulled into Sedgwick at noon, eager for a hot lunch and chance to warm up after an hour of chilly (52 degrees) riding under cloudy skies. The two-block downtown looked abandoned, with large handpainted signs on the different buildings stating they year they'd been built. When I saw a Coors Light neon sign lit in one window, I rolled my bike over to see if they served food.
As I dismounted, a man from a block away called out, "Hey! If you want a place to warm up, I've got a heater!" When I asked if the cafe was open, he shook his head.
I rolled over to talk to him without shouting. "How far is the next town where I can grab some lunch?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Crook is fifteen miles away, but I don't know if anything is open there. What are you looking for?"
"A burger, a sandwich, anything to get me a few miles further down the road."
He didn't hesitate. "How about some beef stew? It's homemade! C'mon, my sister owns the place across the street," he said, pointing to the Antique Inn.
He led me into the town's B&B. Elegant! and a stark contrast to the decaying town outside. Victorian furniture crowded around a fireplace in the main room; another was set up with dining tables for receptions, weddings, graduations, or what not. Upstairs, as he showed me later, were the antique-adorned bedrooms.
Into the kitchen we went, where a large pot of homemade stew sat coming up to room temperature. "Here's a bowl. Fill up as much as you want, and I'll heat it up. Open the frig and grab yourself some bread, butter, cream cheese, cucumbers - whatever you want. No one goes hungry here! And it's on the house."
He introduced himself as Rudy, down from Ogallala NE to help his sister with renovations. We chatted as I fueled my stomach with food and my spirits with his hospitality.
That served as the day's high point. The other two 'towns' along the road offered even less than Sedgwick, and the road carried little traffic - in one half hour, only ten cars passed me.
The morning's magic moment, along with three interesting talks at Julesburg High (where I forsook litter-vangelism to talk about book publishing and Africa), helped me weather the debacle that evening. Somehow the library confused the dates and advertised that I would speak there tomorrow night. Once I corrected her this morning, they put up a a small sign by the checkout desk of the change. Then, when I arrived with my night's hosts (who eagerly awaited seeing my talk), the librarian on duty couldn't find the key to unlock the cabinet with the DVD player, so she walked out without telling us she'd given up.
After waiting until 7:15 in the vain hope that someone else might show, Don and Bonnie Hooper took me back to the house, where I gave them a private presentation. Not what I'd planned, but still a pleasant evening after the embarrassment at the library.
NOTE: my TV appearance in Sioux City has made it to the web. To view it, visit http://www.ktiv.com/News/index.php?ID=25129 , and click on the red movie camera icon above the picture to see the video clip.

Not the Only Biker Dude

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Thu, 15 May 2008 14:15:00 +0000

Mon May 12: North Platte NE to Julesburg CO: 83 miles; sunny, side- or tail-wind, 73; 8:40 CDT-3:30 MDT.
Early in the day I passed another cyclist heading west on US30. He had no load, just a local out for a day ride. An hour late, a different tale unfolded.
As I rolled along after my second stop, I saw the biker approach from the west. As he neared, I noticed his recumbent bike overloaded with panniers, so I crossed the highway for a chat. Sid had started in southern California weeks ago, and had endured windstorms and hail on his way across Arizona and New Mexico. He had retired from law enforcement (though he did consulting work from libraries along the way), and was enjoying his first bike tour ever. He aimed for Minnesota and the Upper Peninsula before heading south through Michigan.
'Twas a nice day to ride - for the most part, I enjoyed a tailwind. The first half hour after lunch, I averaged 19.5 mph! At one point, the road left the river, climbing for five miles through the sand hills, followed by a 39 mph descent back to the South Platte. With the time change, I gained an extra hour, getting me into Julesburg early enough (3:30) to stop at the school and meet my night's host.
Chris and Marina Draney continued the long line of wonderful folks who put me up (or put up with me?). Chris and I traded stories of adventures, and talked about kayak trips on rivers (he'd built his own 18-foot kayak). The conversations got me dreaming about trying to do a water-based spring tour...

Bicyclist Mind Games

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Wed, 14 May 2008 21:49:00 +0000

Sun May 11: Lexington to North Platte NE: 58 miles; sunny, mid-60s; 10:25-3:35.
Angela had asked me what I think about while rolling through the miles. The best answer (not counting the times I simply blank out the mind) is to play mind games. Games such as:

Mr. Friendly. Wave to all the cars heading east, to demonstrate how nice bicyclists are. Moo at all the cows you pass.

Watch the Wildlife. Focus on the red-wing blackbirds fluttering beside the road. Listen to the frogs croaking their happy little hearts out, blissful in culverts and low-lying fields flooded by yesterday's rains.

Score the Scenery. It wasn't a 10 by any wild stretch of imagination - but I'd swapped a pancake-flat landscape for a sampling of sandhills. At first it provided a backdrop of an undulating horizon, but soon the hills crowded against the road. For a while, trees also dotted both sides of the road.

Count the Cars. Not on the road, the ones on the coal or freight trains that rumble by every few minutes. (I counted two in a row that had 126 coal cars and three locomotives; a few minutes later I beat that by 8 cars.) You get tons of bonus points if you can count the cars in both an east- and west- bound train as they pass each other!

History Channel. Stop and read all the roadside historical monuments that you pass by. I never dreamed that one day I would visit the spot that Chief Turkey Leg (how's that for a name to instill fear in your enemies?) and his band of Cheyennes wrecked a Union Pacific train, riding away with bolts of calico tied to their ponies' tails?

Are We There Yet? Keep a watch out for the water town or grain elevator of the next town. Once sighted, guess how long it will be before you actually reach it. A related game is How Much Higher?, where you calculate how much more elevation you need to gain to reach the Mile-High City. For this, you must find an elevation sign - such as "Cozad Airport, 2502' Elevation".

Yes, it was a wonderful day, especially compared to yesterday - sunny, light breeze to the side, mid y60s. I'll miss days like this next week. When I reached North Platte, Evan gave me a wonderful reception, arranging a convenient motel then treating me to dinner. Thanks!
Talking about meeting characters - I forgot to mention Bob ARp's adventurous youth. In high school, he had a friend with leukemia. To raise funds for his treatment, he and friends organized an around-the-clock marathon, dribbling a basketball across Nebraska. They split into three shifts: 8 hours dribbling, 8 sleeping, 8 raising funds. When they reached the Missouri River, the friend shot and made a basket.

Times That Try Bikers' Souls

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sun, 11 May 2008 03:06:00 +0000

Sat May 10: Grand Island to Overton NE: 64 miles; rain and wind, 50 at 12:30; 9:15-3:30.
I set a new record today! Taken as a whole, today was the worst day for cycling I've seen in any of my numerous tours. 54 degrees with a steady rain at the start, it dropped to 50 degrees by noon. The hardest rain was in the first hour, but it mostly kept up.
The rain grew more intermitten after lunch, but conditions grew worse. Between Grand Island and Kearney, a slight tail wind allowed me to again average over 16 mph. After lunch, though, the wind shifted slightly into my face and grew in strength (the Weather Channel mentioned a Wind Advisory beginning at 2:00). My speed dropped to 12 mph during the 14 miles into Elm Creek, then I had trouble keeping it above 10 as I faced the last 2o miles into Lexington.
I finally reminded myself of the philosophy that guides these trips. It doesn't involve proving anything to myself or to the world. The goals are to:
1) see the country and meet the people while traveling by bicycle
2) have fun. (After all, this IS my vacation we're talking about!)
Since I had already wrung every bit of fun I could out of biking today, it was time to meet some people. En route to Elm Creek, I started hitchbiking again: cycling along, and sticking my thumb out whenever I heard traffic approaching (unless I was gripping my handlebars trying to regain control after another gust). It took 14 miles until Chris and Deb drove by, saw my signal, and stopped just as another downpour looked imminent.
An invitation to stay the night soon followed. They took me home to their menagerie, showing me the roll call of animals they rescued or owned: purebred Siamese cats (including three kittens), a black cat, several small dogs, over two dozen cockatiels and button quail, a handful of ferrets, and three iguanas. Now I'm enjoying a quiet evening. Since nearly everything in my packs got at least slightly wet, I laundered everything. I also seized the chance to get caught up on blogging, then showed Deb, Chris, and the grandkids my Litterwalk DVD.
As we talked late, Chris name-dropped a name that got my attention. When I was in junior high, my folks often took us into Denver to see All-Star Wrestling matches. I remember such stars as Crusher and Bruiser, Man Mountain Mike, the Flying Redheads, Cowboy Bill Watts, and the Vachon brothers Mad Dog and Butcher. It turns out that Chris's cousin is married to Mad Dog Vachon!

Out of the High School, Into the Flats

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sun, 11 May 2008 02:39:00 +0000

Fri May 9: Columbus to Grand Island, NE: 80 miles; 65, clouds, no wind; 10:30-4:00.
After blueberry pancakes and eggs with the Trautweins, I biked alongside Babcock Lake to Lakeview High School. Bob Arp met me at the door, welcoming me to his school. His warm reception got me thinking of 'what if's - though I'd had a great time last night and this morning with Bob and Judy, I imagined I'd have had just as good a time if I'd accepted Bob Arp's offer of lodging.
I expect Lakeview will go down as the only high school this trip where I give my litter talk. (I'm scheduled to talk at Julesburg High, but about Africa and writing books.) With nearly three hundred students in the bleachers, I played my DVD and talked shortly, then asked my three pointed questions. I am used to the reticence of high schoolers, so it didn't surprise me when no one raised their hand to suggest answers (though a very few shouted out ideas).
When I asked for their questions, though, that shyness disappeared. Several students posed thoughtful queries. One girl (Angela) asked more than the others, including a couple of insightful questions: "How many hours do you bike each day? What do you think about when you're out there?" Those questions earned her a book when I finished.
I had long mileage to go to Grand Island - and for the first time in over a week, no wind ruffled the air. Bob T and Bob A both recommended a scenic route to get to US30, avoiding downtown Columbus, and after a few short hills, the land turned dead flat. That allowed me to motor along at more than 16 mph for four hours, all the way into town.
I briefly considered camping, but decided to motel it so I could treat myself to a movie and nice dinner. I lollygagged in the shower, had a leisurely meal, and caught the 9:45 show of Iron Man. When it ended at midnight, I had to jog back to the hotel - I only had my light jacket on, and it had started raining...

The Hectic Week Continues

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sun, 11 May 2008 02:00:00 +0000

Thurs May 8: Norfolk to Columbus NE: 51 miles; mid-60s, cool breeze; 11:40-4:00.
First item on the agenda: juggle my schedule to squeeze in the middle school. Reiche Elementary expected me at 9:15, but it was south of town en route to Columbus. Thankfully, Bob Hastings let me push that appointment back to 10:30, so I surprised Julie Wisch with a phone call. Since a few teachers there had been reading excerpts from my book to their classes, they eagerly scheduled my spontaneous assembly. When Brandon saw me at the school, he quickly came up and thanked me for coming by.
Reiche ES was a country school three miles from town. When 10:30 rolled around, all 30 kids there dragged their chairs into the gym to hear me. One boy (Justis) seemed particularly fascinated by my narrative; when I opened it up for questions, he asked one after the other, his hand almost constantly up. When I handed him a free book at the end of the assembly, he couldn't believe it. "For me? I get to keep this? WOW!"
I now faced a short-mileage day (another 44 miles) to my home for the night outside Columbus. Unfortunately, the wind had shifted to come from the east as I headed south. That chill wind and the overcast skies kept my energy level low, and I plodded through the rolling hills along US51. When I stopped for lunch in Madison, one customer asked me if I was biking for a cause. I explained about the litter walk and speeches, and he handed me $5 for my next meal.
I reached my destination at 4:00, with Bob and Judy both still at work. They'd left the front door unlocked and a note telling me which bedroom they'd given me. I stepped inside and immediately felt underdressed. The stylish furniture and the artwork beat the beejayzus out of any motel room. When I saw the massive four-poster bed and the paintings and carvings of elephants in my room, I felt like a British lord in colonial India.
Judy Trautwein showed up around 5:00 to officially welcome me to town. She then drove me to the library, where they had scheduled a potluck prior to my talk. Seven people attended the meal, including one man who hoped to bike tour following his impending retirement, and another man already making those plans. He arrived on a brand new Surly touring bike. (I had never even heard of Surly until Frank and Jerry told me they made the best bikes for touring.) He had the bike tricked out with $500 worth of matching front and rear panniers, handlebar bag, and canvas tent/sleeping bag cover. The other fellow and I checked out his equipment, and the bike did impress me.
Fifteen people eventually arrived for my talk, and they peppered me with questions for some time. When the meeting finally broke up, Judy drove me past their house to show me the way to Lakeview High tomorrow. Then we came back to the house, where Judy, Bob, and I enjoyed a glass of wine and conversation for a few minutes before calling it another (late) night.

The Further Adventures of Biker Dude

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Fri, 09 May 2008 21:57:00 +0000

Wed May 7: Sioux City IA to Norfolk NE: 83 miles; mid-60s with cool breeze, high clouds; 10:45-5:20.
An absolutely delightful day! Wind partially or fully at my back, beautiful rolling hills, dozens of cars honking and waving at me - not even the trip's first flat could dampen my spirits.
To begin the day, Frank picked me up and drove me to Hunt Elementary. "It's my alma mater," he explained. "First day of school, they sent me home. You see, Frank is actually my middle name, but it's what my parents always called me. They had to register me for school under my birth name (George), which was the rule. Well, they told the kids to stand up when they called your name for attendance, but I didn't stand up when they called out George. Thus, they sent me home because they were sure I was retarded."
As I took the bike from his truck, I noticed a problem - a weld on the rack had broken, leaving the bar that the pannier hung from vulnerable to breaking off. If it'd broken off in Nowheresville, I'd've been stuck thumbing a ride. Luckily, I knew Albrecht's could replace the rack before I left town.
I had spare time at Hunt to type in one blog before I got corralled by the TV reporter from the Sioux City NBC station. He interviewed me, then taped my presentation. Amy Denney gave me a great introduction to her students, and later got me to tell the kids about my RAGBRAI experience last year.
After the latest bike fix, I hit the road, exulting in the tail wind. As I ate lunch at the cafe in Hubbard NE, News4 at Noon played on the telly. Suddenly my mug graced the TV screen. "Is that you?!?" asked the waitress. That spot - or maybe the newspaper article - must have triggered all the honks I got on my ride to Norfolk.
Due to the delays from the rack and the flat, I didn't reach the motel (paid for by the library) until 5:20. That gave me just enough time to freshen up before riding over to the library for the talk, so I had to delay dinner until afterwards. The talk generated my best library audience yet - 25 people! - including six or seven middle school kids there due to the urging of their science teacher, Julie Wisch. Afterwards, two of the kids called their folks to bring down money to buy a book, and Brandon handed me a note from Julie inviting me to speak at the middle school tomorrow. I also sold several other books, including one to a local author. Another woman asked if I needed a place to stay that night. (No wonder I like library talks!)
Since the sun had set by the time the kids' folks had come, Brandon's parents drove me back to the hotel. I then wandered across the street for a late, but well-deserved, dinner.

How Many Bicyclists Does It Take To Replace a Bolt? (4)

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Wed, 07 May 2008 13:42:00 +0000

Tues May 6: Le Mars to Sioux City, IA: 35 miles; increasing clouds, breezy, 77 at 1:00; 1:00-4:10 -- evening ride: 22 miles; between rainstorms, 64 at start; 6:10-7:15.
Some days are so full, it's hard to know where to start blogging it. Thus, I'll start at the beginning.
My day started at Kluckhohn Elementary, where Renae Buss met me in costume. "Several of us have dressed up as authors in honor of your visit." She took me to the gym, where the third graders had decorated the walls with posters talking about bike safety. Three hundred students (my largest audience in years) listened attentively to my talk, since they had been recently focusing on nutrition, fitness, and literacy.
The school librarian then drove me to Merrill, where Magdalena (the local reporter) interviewed me for the Le Mars paper. When she finished her questions, the schools 120 students filed into the cafeteria to hear me reprise my talk.
After returning to Le Mars, I biked to Bob's Drive-In Cafe, where I met Johnathan, Jerry and Frank from the Siouxland Cycling Club in Sioux City. We ate lunch, posed with our bikes so Magdalena could take my picture, wandered across the street for some Blue Bunny ice cream, and then biked south to Sioux City. Surprise! there is actually scenery in this region! (No, it's NOT flat.) They led me down quiet country roads through the Loess Hills, climbing to the highest point for miles around. The rumpled landscape exploded in shades of green as the long-awaited spring had finally arrived. Above us, dark clouds began gathering.
Halfway there, as we waited for Johnathan to catch up (he rode a recumbent, which is never as fast uphill as upright bikes), Frank noticed I had lost a bolt on my rack. I had a spare, but no wrench with which to tighten it. Frank looked for another bolt while Jerry held his bike, but no luck. Luckily, Johnathan had a zip-tie, which secured it for the rest of the ride.
We left Johnathan to recover from the hills at a tavern, while Frank and Jerry led me along the city's bike path to Albrecht's Bike Shop. After getting a more permanent fix, I rolled over to the library to meet Kathy Kelly, who had worked hard helping Johnathan to set up that evening's talk. Seeing that hungry look on my face, she shared her stash of dark chocolate with me.
It rained for a few minutes while I sat inside; when it stopped I rode the rain-slicked streets across the river into South Dakota to the site of the night's festivities. At 6:00 Ken and Shane arrived, and the three of us took off on a 7-mile ride along the river and up to an overlook. We then rode back, getting back to the lecture room only a minute before the heavens opened up (accompanied by thunder).
Frank and Johnathan and their wives were there, along with Jerry, Kathy, and more. I ended up forsaking the speech I had practiced, winging it with an unrehearsed presentation. After I finished, Frank offered to have the cycling club pay for my night at the hotel, but I turned him down in favor of an offer from Tim Hansen to stay at his house. By the time we got back to his pad at 10:30, I had just enough energy for a shower before hitting the sack.

Attitude Control

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Wed, 07 May 2008 13:25:00 +0000

Mon May 5: Worthington MN to Le Mars IA: 73 miles; sunny, side breeze, 77; 12:10-6:30.
Another first for my biking career, though NOT a good one: the first time I've been forced off the road by a semi.
Strike one of my unfortunate farewell to Minnesota came when I got back on MN-60. For three days I'd been on and off that superb biking road, but now the paved shoulder disappeared, and I had to ride in the traffic lane. Thankfully, few cars and trucks shared the road with me.
Strike two came with the 'Highway Closed' signs. The 12-mile detour added 2 or 3 miles to my day - with those final detoured miles running (sorry for the cliche) uphilll into a headwind.
It was still going well, with the light traffic giving me a wide berth. Then, as I neared the state line, a semi came up behind and laid on his horn. Hmmm... play chicken with an 18-wheeler? I think not! I braked and pulled onto the gravel, and he passed me only inches from the white line.
After thousands of miles of bike touring, I suppose it had to happen eventually. I refuse to let it color my otherwise good impression of Minnesotans.
My busiest school week since 2004 got off to a great start at Worthington Middle School. I had barely arrived at the school when three girls came up with a copy of my book, asking to autograph it to their teacher. When they started asking me about the trip, another teacher shooed them away, telling them to wait for my presentation.
The kids responded well to the talk by the 'Biker Dude' (as Rich had christened me). Talk about synchronicity - last week the kids had cleaned up a local ditch, and one of the students had found - UNDERWEAR!
So far, I've enjoyed a good reception. In Alton, I pulled over for a break. Across the street, a woman called me over. "Do you want some cold water?" She went inside to grab a bottle 2/3 frozen. Then she ran back inside, coming out to hand me a juicy orange. Thanks!

Who's Your Daddy? Mr. Wind

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Mon, 05 May 2008 13:53:00 +0000

Sun May 4: St James to Worthington MN: 62 miles; 64 at 1:30, sunny, headwinds; 9:20-4:40
This morning ranked as one of the most brutal rides I've endured. On flat terrain and windless days last year, I averaged as high as 17.5 mph for 2.5 hours. My first 90 minutes today, the headwinds held me to only 9.3 mph. Not since 2002 have a had that hard a time making miles.
While I ate lunch in Windom, the winds finally lessened slighly, and I averaged 12.2 mph the rest of the way into Worthington. It shows that everything is relative - after my struggles for a day and a half, the afternoon felt like I flew down the road.
For the night, I'm ensconced with Rich and Kris Besel (Rich had arranged for my previous night with his parents). Once again, I found a family with whom I connected immediately, like we'd been best friends for years. They had Joachin (a German exchange student) staying with them, so we showed him my Africa DVD and their DVD of a trip to the Utah national parks and of rafting down the Grand Canyon. Later, Rich told us the story of his father's and grandfather's immigration experience in Ellis Island in 1923.
Place names: This morning I biked by the town of Mountain Lake, but I didn't see either. (The lake is even too small to show up on road maps.) Maybe they named it that because Flat Featureless Farmland was already taken? And I'd love to hear how they named the town of Sleepy Eye.

The Transition Day

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Mon, 05 May 2008 13:34:00 +0000

Sat May 3: Fairibault to St James MN: 80 miles; 41 at start, 55 at 2:00, sunny, side- and headwinds; 8:40-6:10
Today was a tale of two rides, as this tour segues from interesting scenery into several days of monotonous flatland. I don't expect much improvement until I hit the Platte River.
I started early, with brisk 41-degree temperatures awaiting me. The SSH Trail surface was decidedly more aged/less smooth than I'd found on the Root River or Douglas trails, but it still beat many of the roads I've ridden. The scenery featured segments of wooded canopies beside lakes interspersed with wide-open plains - a preview of what was soon to come. The gusty winds (strong enough to generate whitecaps on Cannon Lake) kept my speed under 12 mph.
Ride 2 was simply a grind - over twenty miles on a four-lane divided highway, and ten-plus more on back country roads, though a wide-open landscape. With no trees to shelter me, the wind dropped my speed to around 10 mph. Though the temperatures hit the mid-50s, the long day drained me.
Now I've got another warm bed and friendly host Rheiny and Mildred Besel. This couple, married 57 years, raised four kids and now enjoy 5 or 6 great-grandkids. Pleasant company is always so much more fulfilling than hotel rooms!
Side note: I've been through quite the tourist region. Sparta WI bills itself as the Bicycling Capital of America; Houston MN (on the Root River) hosts the International Horned Owl Festival every March, and Fairibault is home to the Fairibault Woolen Mills and home to the company that makes the Tilt-A-Whirl amusement ride.

Lemonade Day

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sun, 04 May 2008 03:04:00 +0000

(That's what you make when life hands you lemons...)

Fri May 2: Chatfield to Fairibault: 89 miles; 53 at 4:00, overcast, fog, sprinkles mid-day, downpour late; 8:10-5:20
It's never a good sign when I walk into the school and the secretary asks, "Who are you?"
Chris, the director, came out with the classic deer-in-the-headlights look. "Oh. Was that for today?" We stepped into his office, where he checked his schedule. "Oh, dear. I am really sorry, but we have a fashion show going on today. Would you like to reschedule?"
To be honest, the news didn't surprise me. When I'd scheduled my schools, I'd thought Chris seemed rather blase about it, rather distracted. Rather than fret about it now, I tried to turn it into a positive. Since the forecast had changed, and now said rain wouldn't arrive until late afternoon, I had time to ride the Douglas Trail and head for Fairibault. That would let me ride the Sakatah Singing Hills Trail on Saturday, possibly the most scenic of the trails as it rolled by a string of lakes.
Of course, they got the forecast wrong. Sprinkles began before I could get out of downtown Rochester, continuing until I stopped for lunch. Still, the Douglas Trail, though wet, was a big improvement over fighting traffic (and traffic spray) as it rolled north through a corridor of trees.
In Pine Island, the cafe staff and the patrons jumped to my aid when I asked for directions. Though the road they directed me to didn't end up where they said it would, it still got me to the country roads I needed to get west. As I neared Fairibault, the fog thickened, and mist began wetting my sunglasses.
I stopped at the first C-store in town for directions to a motel, and found the nearest one was still two miles away. When I hopped back on the bike, the rain began in earnest. Ten minutes later, one drenched bicyclist pulled into the Galaxy Inn and got his room.
Now the weatherman is threatening that snow may fall (but not stick) tomorrow morning. I may have a wet, chilly ride on my last trail. However, I did find a family to stay with tomorrow night, so things are looking up...

Biker's Heaven, Biker's Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sun, 04 May 2008 02:48:00 +0000

Thurs, May 1: La Crosse WI to Chatfield MN: 79 miles, sunny morning -> overcast -> sprinkles, 65; 8:50-6:10
Another wonderful day of cycling, the day I'd waited for: the Root River Trail. Again, a path along an old rail line, following the river through forests, past farmland, beside limestone bluffs. Once we reached it, we 42 miles of paved, heavenly bike path virtually to ourselves.
From Fountain at trail's end, we hit US52 to Chatfield. I've ridden a LOT of highways in my travels, but his likely ranked as the worst. The shoulder - when it was paved - was usually crumbling and unrideable. Potholes and cracks forced me onto the traffic lane or onto the gravel. The traffic was moderate, but high-speed. Definitely not suited for bike travel. Of course, it sprinkled for a bit when we first entered the highway, making conditions worse with the wet.
When we heard that US52 into Rochester was "three times as bad" (so bad that drivers were searching for alternate routes to avoid the potholes), we knew we had to find another route for our morning ride. We stopped into the barbershop, where Dave started talking about all the rides he had taken in the past. He called a friend, who then came down to the cafe and gave us new directions as we ate dinner. Thanks!

Rolling Down the Trails

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Sat, 03 May 2008 16:27:00 +0000

Wed, Apr 30: Elroy to Lacrosse: 65 miles + 1.3 walking through tunnels; sunny, 64; 11:15-6:15
Another unique question from a young schoolgirl: "Do you ever collect the trash, make a [craft] project with it, and give it to a student?" Another good question: "Have you ever thought about forming an organization to help you fight littering?"
I felt positively Yoda-ish today, rolling down the Elroy-Sparta Trail, putting my vacation philosophy into words: The best trip is one where the journey is the destination. Worry not where you end up, focus on how you got there. [Come to think of it, that's a good philosophy for life, too.]
At times on these bike tours, that ideal is tough to achieve. When you're grinding in low gear up an endless hill; when you have to protect your six inches of road shoulder from traffic zooming by; when a sudden downpour leaves you drenched and cold - then you're just cycling to get done with it.
Today, though, that focus was easy to keep. The Elroy-Sparta and La Crosse River Trails got me away from roads and traffic, and the old railroad grade never exceeded 3%. I rolled past farmlands and marshes, through prairies and woods. Perhaps the highlights were the three tunnels on the Elroy-Sparta Trail, the first two at 1/3 mile long each and the third twice that. You could always see the light at the far end, but needed a flashlight to see the path you walked along. In the long tunnel, water seeping from springs dripped constantly, nearly a waterfall at points. The drips echoed in the long dark corridor, drowned out only by the silly railroad sounds I made.
All told, the last day and a half were a first for me. Never before have I traveled over 80 miles point-to-point, entirely on trails. (And if we headed north at the Mississippi instead of south into La Crosse, we could have taken the Great River Trail for even more miles.)

The Pieces Come Together

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 12:51:00 +0000

Tues Apr 29: Prairie du Sac to Elroy: 62 miles; 49 at 3:00, mostly cloudy --> scattered clouds, 8:00-5:10
THE SCHOOL (11 mi): the kids at Merrimac Community Charter School gave me a wonderful reception, raptly listening to my litter-vangelism. Afterwards most of them lined up, patiently waiting to get my autograph. One girl asked how it felt to be famous; one boy handed me 50 cents to help defray my expenses.

THE ROADS (28 mi): I'm finding out that Wisconsin roads are a mixed bag. One moment I'm motoring down smooth asphalt, the next I'm gripping my brakes on a downhill trying weave through an obstacle course of potholes and cracked pavement.
Even if I weren't checking my speed due to the potholes, the terrain would slow me down. Shortly after leaving the school, I hit the worst hill I've seen since climbing to Beckley, WV on the '06 tour. A one-mile grunt, with curves so you couldn't tell how far you had to go - I plodded along at a zippy 4-5 mph. After yesterday's ride, I didn't have the energy to attack it - especially not in 45-degree temperatures.
Past Baraboo, I hit WI-33, a dream to ride on - smooth, wide shoulder, flat or gentle rises, and light traffic. That got me into Reedsburg to connect with ...

THE TRAIL (23 mi): The 400 Trail was named for the '400 Train' - a train that traveled the 400 miles between St Paul and Milwaukee in 400 minutes. It lost the battle to the airlines and freeways, and closed in 1963.
The corridor is now a rail-to-trail conversion, and a biker's delight. The hard-packed crushed limestone surface was a breeze to ride, and if the trail gained any elevation, it was too gradual to notice. We passed through woods, past marshes, swamps, and occasional farms. Every four-to-seven miles we reached another quaint town with bike shops, antique stores, B&Bs, and cafes. This is what a bicycling vacation should be!

THE HOST: In Elroy, we left the trail and asked the first pedestrians how to get to 204 Riverview St. Before they could tell us, a white car driven by a man who (in his own words) 'looks like a snowman' pulled up. "Glen! Follow me."
Steve Ward was the perfect host, and we enjoyed swapping stories of adventures we'd had. I played a few of my travel DVDs for him, and (after hesitating) he played a video for me that he said he's only shown once in the four years he's been in Elroy:
In 1994, the TV show CBS This Morning ran a series on America's Best. One day, they honored America's best clergy. On the set they'd invited a rabbi of a huge temple in NYC; a priest from a huge Catholic church in California; and a pastor from a Siren, Wisconsin - Steve Ward. "I'm only showing you this because you said you like meeting real characters."
He kept us chuckling with his tales, such as the time he married a 100-year-old man to a 95-year-old woman. "The man grumbled to me, 'Hurry it up, I want to get to bed.' I had to explain to the wedding guests that his wanting to hit the bed was not for the reason that most grooms want to get there."
Steve provided a perfect dinner of grilled brats and Minnesota sweet corn on the cob. For breatkfast the next morning, we looked forward to promise of homemade blueberry muffins hot out of the oven.

Challenges

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 04:00:00 +0000

Mon morning 4/28: Mukwonago Schools, bike shop: 9 mi, 7:15-12:30
I awoke to blue skies, and guessed that the predicted showers may stay away. By the time I finished Park View Middle School and headed to Clarendon Elementary, though, clouds filled the sky. That talk ran long when the kids had endless questions, and moments after I reached the bike shop, the rain had begun in earnest.

Mon afternoon: Mukwonago to Sun Prairie: 59 miles; lots of weather, 12:30-5:50
Challenging. That's the best way to describe the ride. I headed west from Rolling Hills ES into an intermitten rain,but it didn't affect my speed at first. For 35 minutes I cruised at 17.3 mph; my first hour I covered 16 miles. The second hour the relentless chill (42 degrees) and rain dropped me to 14 1/2 miles, and I finally had to stop in a C-store to warm my wet feet and change socks. The rain stopped at 2:30, replaced by a northern (arctic) wind, and I managed only 13 1/4 miles the third hour. Hour 4: a shade under 12 miles. The unceasing cold and (occasional head)wind re-directed my energy into keeping warm. Tim (who had begun riding while I hit the schools) was also ready to bag it by Sun Prairie rather than ride another 30 miles to Prairie du Sac, so we had his brother-in-law collect us.
Wisconsin may get into my record books, for having the most people stop and offer assistance. When I finished riding just past Sun Prairie, I had to wait five minutes for Tim and Larry to reach me. In the interim, a cute blonde pulled up and asked if I needed help. Even though she was far cuter than Tim's brother-in-law, I turned her down.
The next three days are forecast for much nicer weather. I've had rain on every tour, so it was nice to get it out of the way. I tell myself, that's the worst weather I'll see all trip...

Return to Mukwonago

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 02:33:00 +0000

Sun Apr 27: Gurnee to Mukwonago: 51 miles; 58, thin clouds, breezy, 11:00-5:10
If there's one thing more ubiquitous than media on these trips, it would be the friendly, considerate people.
As I sat on the shoulder of WI-142 waiting for Tim to catch up, I noticed a sports car barreling south on WI-75. As I watched, he made a big U-turn on the road, came back to turn onto 142, and pulled up to me. "Do you need any help? Is there anything wrong?" It's heartening to know that people everywhere look out for you.
I spent a bit of quality time today sitting on the road shoulder, waving at all the passing cars. (What can I say? I have weird hobbies.) Just outside Mukwonago one van stop after I waved, also asking if I needed assistance.
The one problem with overscheduling myself on this trip - and for me, Mukwonago is synonomous with booking myself heavily (four schools there last year, three this year) - is that it makes it difficult to adjust to crises. Twenty miles shy of Mukwonago, I busted a spoke. Unfortunately, the only bike shop along our route (in Mukwonago) was not open on Sundays. Thus, I must delay my third school to get it fixed tomorrow morning. Which increases the chances that I'll have to accept a ride from Tim's sister or brother-in-law in Prairie du Sac, our destination 90 miles from Mukwonago.
Our night's lodging came courtesy of one of the teachers who'd arranged last year's talks. I hadn't written down the directions, and working from my memory (always a bad idea), I turned one street too soon. As I called Shannon on the cell to find out where I went wrong, who should roll up but Jasonn and his family, who had hosted me last year. He'd made the same wrong turn I did, trying to get to Shannon's. (Didn't someone once say that great minds think alike?)
We got to Shannon and Josh's to find the cookout in full swing. Beside Jasonn and family, the principal of Shannon's school and his family, and another teacher from Rolling Hills (and her family) had come. Good food and good company - what better way to end a glorious day!

Thru the Endless City

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 02:15:00 +0000

Sat Apr 26: Chicago to Gurnee: 57 miles; 58, blue skies, windy, 12:50-8:00
As I stood outside the Subway outlet, about to mount my bike to roll over to the train station, a person toting a professional-looking camera attached to an oversize microphone walked up to me. "Hi! I'm with the local paper." All I could think was, "How did the media find me already? I haven't even started yet!"
Turns out he was getting local man-on-the-street interviews, asking, "How will you spend your rebate check?" I chuckled at that, turned to Tim, and said, "He wants to talk to you!"
Today's ride started late due to an emergency fix on Tim's bike. By the time the train got us to downtown Chicago, the time had neared 1:00. The ride north treated us to a smorgasbord of urban, suburban, and wild terrain. Two miles of rolling among skyscrapers segued into a long cruise along the Lakeshore Bike Trail. After that ended, we cruised through neighborhoods filled with brick apartments and quaint cottages, passing through Loyola University and beside Northwestern U.
Eventually we escaped traffic on the Green Bay and Skokie Valley Trails, packed or soft-surface paths paralleling train tracks with thick shrubbery on either side. As evening fell, we found ourselves on the Des Plaines River Trail, a dirt track through the river bottomlands, past forests and swamps, surprising two herds of deer and scaring a turtle slowly lumbering across the path. Due to the slow going as we had to continually check directions, we didn't end until 8:00, well after the sun had set.

The Dichotomy of Vacations

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 02:08:00 +0000

Sat Apr 25 - Palatine, IL
How can it be that vacations never come soon enough, but they always come too quickly?
There comes a point when all the travel planning is done: all the reservations made, the activities planned, the plane tickets bought. At that point, the urge to leave, to get the grand adventure underway, gets so strong. Still you must wait. Then it comes time to depart, and you end up running yourself ragged, taking care of last minute details. Then you must just hope you don't exhaust yourself too much to enjoy your first few days.

Nearing departure

noreply@blogger.com (Glen) — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 01:52:00 +0000

The weather has finally turned the corner. Last week's snow is behind us, the sprinkler system is turned on again, the lawn is waiting for its first 'manicure'. And I have only 2.5 days before I fly to Chicago for my latest peregrination...