Slap! Where's that darn knife? Zzzzzztt, zzzzzztt. Slap! Slap! I'd stirred up a bunch of mosquitoes from the tall grass I was standing in. I piled my lunch on top of my packs and started walking across to a nearby gas station. That's when my camping gear and daypack flopped off the back of the bike and the loose bungee cords grabbed for anything -- the spokes, the hub. I dropped my lunch, refastened the camping gear and scooted over to the nearby gas station. I went back, picked up my lunch, and tried to eat it outside the gas station. Flies. Farm country and flies. Too many to tolerate, so I ducked inside the gas station and asked if I could 'picnic' in there. Thanks.
After a quick lunch, constantly swinging at files, I hit the road again. The weather had been shifting around all day. And now, great luck. I could hardly believe it. The wind was actually at my back. Ya hoo! It was as though my ignorant, impatient determination had made me put off stopping to eat lunch. Now the gods were rewarding me for stopping and taking the time to eat.
I flew into Sibley. My average speed had dropped from nearly 17 MPH to 14 MPH. On the way to Sibley, in just seven miles, I got it back up over 15. About a mile outside of Sibley, I became aware of a car behind me and then something hitting my back. I looked up and saw scrawny 'Beavis and Butthead-like' arms hanging out of the window of a small, passing, silver sedan. And I, without thinking, gave this motley teenage crew the angry, profanity-spewing show that they had been hoping to invoke. The little shits. I wanted to tear one of those arms off.
Agghh. I wish I hadn't reacted at all. There was no pain and no mark. Who knows what they hit me with.
[This was the only incident of this nature on my entire trip -- the only bad feelings shown towards me by anyone.]
Now, my earlier prayer was answered in it's entirety. Just as I was entering Sibley, the sky opened up and the rain began to pour down. I dashed under a gas station roof and put on my rain jacket and zip-locs. I'd asked for it, but it was alright. I was right. Rain is no problem. Headwinds are. If it takes rain to stop a headwind, bring it on.
Oh yes. As the truck driver in Alton had said, the spray from passing trucks was not desirous. It was exhilarating ... but also blinding. I learned to wear my sunglasses on my forehead so that I could quickly drop them down over my eyes when a truck passed.
The rain only lasted a few miles and the winds died down, too. As I crossed the border into Minnesota I removed my rain jacket and shoe bags, which by the way, were holding out fine. Happiness came over me as it did at all major benchmarks on my trip. I even got a little delusional. I thought the Deer License sign outside of a gas station rest stop said Beer License. Did I really need one of those in Minnesota?
Worthington was an easy ten miles after the border. I was in high spirits. When I passed 90 miles I said to myself, 'I'm in century land.' I'd easily be doing over 95 miles and, being fully loaded, I felt it qualified as a true century. The RAIN corner century. How appropriate.
Actually, I'd thought of the acronym as I was trying to kill time, riding between Alton (the cafe at 42 miles) and the Minnesota border. The concept came pretty easily. It had been a rather full day as far as riding conditions go. And I'd sheared off the northwest corner of Iowa in a single, one-hundred mile day.
I stopped at a gas station in Worthington and got advice from a pair of high school-aged, midwest farmer's daughters. 'Why did you come to Worthington? There's nothing here.' (It's actually the Nobles County seat, with a population of 10,000 -- bigger than most towns I'd seen since I left Colorado.) They told me where the motels were and then, for some odd reason, wanted to see what a Colorado driver's license looked like. I obliged and then moved on.
Just as I had done the night before, I found a local, independently owned motel (the best kind). And, coincidentally, it was run by a middle eastern fellow that I unintentionally ended up haggling over price with. After looking at the room and telling him that I wanted to look at a couple of others motels before deciding, the bartering began. He said that if I had a car he would offer me a lower price.
'..... What?'
'You mean, if I wasn't on a bicycle, if I drove a car, you'd offer me a better deal?' I was pissed, but biting my tongue, and hoping for a reasonable explanation. Maybe I hadn't heard him right.
'That's right,' he said. Then he explained. If I was in a car and I went to look at the other room I'd come back, but since I was on a bicycle, I might not be inclined to ride all the way back. Hence, why bother to offer a price reduction. I guess I understood. It was not my kind of logic, but it was obviously not ill intent on his part. Just his style of business. He turned out be a very nice person. I liked him.
'I'm still going to go look though.'
'I know where you will look and it is not better. You will see. This is a finer room.'
We both knew where I'd be looking. In fact, I'd already been there and I did like his room better, but it cost $2 more ($24). Anyway, my real mission was to find a motel that was convenient to beer and groceries. He thought all beer in Minnesota was the same, but I told him I must find out for myself. As I began to ride away he followed with, '$22, you can have room for $22.'
'Ok, I'll probably be back shortly.'
Two kind ladies at the Phillips gas station informed me that convenience store beer was 3.2 beer. The only real beer was at the liquor store at this end of town, another mile back into the headwind and two miles from the previous motel. They also told me about a lounge nearby with a good menu that was developed by a friend of theirs who now lives in Colorado. Coincidence seems, sometimes, to be a divine message. Like a road sign for the spiritually aware. Everything was in place.
I came back, got the room, got some beer, and had fettucini alfredo with sauteed chicken breast pieces at the lounge the ladies had suggested (I can't remember the name). The food was excellent, the company, well, not boring. One college age kid at the bar was from Mankato, my destination for the following day. He had lots of advice and information ... for whatever it was worth. Total distance from the Imperial Motel in Sioux City IA to the Shady Lane Motel in Worthington MN (10:00 A.M. to 6:00 P.M.) - 95.4 miles. Total climb - 1050'
Ave. speed (rolling) - 15.1 MPH
95 miles in 8 hours -- a good pace for me. Total Miles in 10 days - 734
--
Chuck Anderson uucp : uunet!nyx!canderso
Boulder, CO internet: canderso@nyx.cs.du.edu
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Rec.Travel Library
More on North America
More on U.S.A.
More on Iowa
|
