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“Would you like some fresh pineapple?” Jerry asked.  “Sure, why not,” Pat and I responded. It was a hot muggy Indiana afternoon and that sounded exquisite. So, how did Jerry come into the picture on this particular afternoon? Would you believe that once again I had a flat tire? This time, it was right in front on his home.  With what we have been through we knew what the issue was with the tire.  So after we popped the rear wheel off once again, Pat volunteered to take it to a bicycle shop via an Uber ride. That left me hanging out in the front yard of a home and I had no idea whether I would be welcomed or told to hit the pavement.

Indiana hospitality won out. When Jerry eventually came out of his garage and found me in his driveway, with two bicycles and lots of panniers, he brought me a chair and a bottle of chilled water. Jerry, I learned, was a former ironworker who had built many of the Chicago skyscrapers until injuries stopped him cold. So now, he works on several home improvements and enjoys the company of his grown children, grandchildren and the kitties that he calls the Mighty Kitties because of the M on their foreheads.

When Pat returned with the wheel now taped so the spokes would no longer pop through, Jerry invited us for pineapple. After we had eaten in his backyard and had the wheel back on my bicycle we continued on trails and country roads into North Judson. There, we were welcomed by Betty, our Warm Showers host, her husband, Paul, and their golden retriever, Cheddar. Betty and Paul have only lived in their home for a few years and like being closer to the country. Betty makes her own medicines and is setting up an apothecary but some years ago, she was a cage fighter. (I admit that I have no idea what that means)

The next morning, our journey took us on the North Judson Erie Trail. Within the confines of this trail, there are interpretive signs for each of the planets in our solar system. They are also spaced apart in the same proportion as they are separated in outer space.

At the end of this trail we bumped into a trio who had come from Muncie and were heading to Mackinaw Island in Michigan. Unlike us, they were carrying next to nothing (dog spray on their handlebars and very small packs). They always stay indoors.

More back roads and trails filled our day. In the town of Rochester, I noticed that the elementary school parking lot was full and a crossing guard with sign in hand was standing outside. That’s right – they started school this past week. From Rochester, we cycled the Nickel Plate Trail for 21 miles to Peru. Peru is well-known for its homegrown circus and because John Dillinger robbed a bank in Peru. That said, we decided to dine at Dillinger’s restaurant – the whole place was decked out in Dillinger memorabilia.

The following day we were once again on the Nickel Plate Trail and then left it to cycle into Converse and then on trails that had been cleverly created with artistic designs and signage. Lastly, we proceeded onto the Cardinal Greenway Trail – it opened in 1998 and is the longest recreation trail in the state.

Gas City was our evening destination. And yes, Gas City was named as it was because there were once natural gas fields discovered there. Unfortunately, the knowledge as to how to manage these fields came too late and the gas disappeared quickly.

Today we rode 15 miles on roads until we were once again able to pick up the Cardinal Greenway in Gaston. We briefly visited the Cardinal Greenway headquarters in Muncie and then tackled the last 40 miles of the trail, much of which involved some climbing. We arrived in Richmond and quickly found Blair’s home, our Warm Shower’s host. Blair shouted from an upstairs window and came downstairs wearing a Michigan Friend’s t-shirt. That seemed a bit quirky but once he explained that he was a University of Michigan graduate and now in Quaker Seminary, it tied together perfectly.  Go Blue. We found commonalities on and off the bicycle buoyed by the gin and ginger beer drinks and the delicious meal of chicken, beets, hummus, cucumbers and lentils he prepared.

Tomorrow we take on Ohio.

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels

We were within the City of Chicago when my bicycle completely caved in. Regardless of having had repairs at three different bicycle shops in Wisconsin, the chain refused to stay on and the whole bicycle was groaning. We were riding with Tom, our guide, Warm Shower’s host, bicycle mechanic and newfound friend. We met Tom and his wife, Cindy in early July back in Spearfish, South Dakota, when they too were camping.

Tom, who definitely knows his way around bicycles, diagnosed the problem as my needing to replace the free hub body – meaning a brand-new back wheel. Since we could go no farther together, we split up. Tom raced back to his home, riding 21 mph, to order and purchase a new wheel before the close of business while Pat and I tried to figure out where we might now stay in Chicago.

Spotting a police vehicle at the intersection, I wandered over.  “I am looking for place now to spend the night because my bicycle is no longer working. Do you have some suggestions?”  I asked.  “Where are you from? he asked. “Vermont,” “Then you don’t want to spend the night around this area because all the hotels are too shady. Try looking around Lincoln Park,” he said.

But I need to back up a few days first.  Our journey through the last section of Wisconsin and northern Illinois began last Sunday morning in Racine. Our plan was to meet Tom somewhere along the trail. He had caught a commuter train up to Kenosha, WI and was going to ride north while we were riding south. Tom is an avid cyclist, bicycle mechanic, and an astute trumpet player. Cindy is also an avid cyclist, musician, and works full time for All State from her home office.

After we met up, Tom took us through Kenosha, WI – (the scene of some horrific violence last summer) and then on multiple trails (some paved and some limestone covered). We stopped in Lake Bluff, first to admire the miniature outdoor railroad and then to admire the sailboats on Lake Michigan who were in the midst of a race. We cycled through the gorgeous homes and properties in Lake Forest, past the Great Lakes Naval Station and several residential streets, eventually arriving at Tom and Cindy’s home in Riverwoods situated at the end of a private road.

Cindy prepared a lovely dinner on which we feasted while reveling in the beauty of their property. Their home has a number of huge picture windows overlooking mature trees and grasslands. Tom has his own bicycle shop on the property where several bicycles hang from the rafters. Because of some noises our bicycles were making, he offered to see if he could resolve the issues.

On Tuesday morning, Tom, Pat and I headed toward Chicago, with Tom leading the way. We traveled though the city of North Brook and Pat took a spin on the Velodrome.  As we neared the city streets, my bicycle’s noises increased, It was definitely time to find a bicycle repair shop, which we did after traveling through multiple one way streets in North Chicago. One hour later, the shop mechanic assured me that the problems were fixed. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it more than one block before the chain came off once again, forcing me to return to the shop. And though the shop mechanic recognized the issue, he didn’t really offer up a solution other than to pedal while coasting.

So, as Tom raced home, Pat and I made a reservation at the Lincoln boutique Hotel (that sounded cool)– five miles away via Chicago’s Lakefront Trail. While Pat enjoyed every minute of cycling those miles, I took the pedestrian path, pushing my damaged weight heavy bicycle.

Hundreds of people whizzed by on bicycles and rollerblades. We were smitten with everything the lakefront offered – sand volleyball, kickball, softball and plenty of space for swimming. To us, the Chicago lakefront is a young person’s utopia.

Tom arrived early the next morning, new wheel and bicycle tools in hand. Success at last, Pat and I were back on the Lakefront Trail cycling past parks, museums, and piers until after seven miles, my back tire went totally flat.

Because we now have changing tires down, before long we were cycling once again, this time past part of Chicago’s Southside (Hyde Park and Jackson Park). It was then that we found ourselves in a section of Chicago next to the lake where there were roads but no people, homes or industry. We have since learned that his is where the former US Steel plant once was once situated. All plans for redevelopment here have not taken hold because of the costs involved in cleaning up the industrial waste. Shortly afterward, we crossed into Indiana and entered the city of Hammond, known for producing 20 percent of the steel in our country.

And a few miles later, we finally made it back to the trails designated on the Great American Rail Trail on the Pennsy Greenway outside of Munster, Indiana. It was time to rest up and celebrate!

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels

Over the past three days, we have cycled 135 miles further east through Wisconsin. We now find ourselves just outside of Racine, a city on Lake Michigan. The two of us have gotten spoiled by the network of Wisconsin State Trails, which crisscross the state, are very well maintained and heavily used. We have also enjoyed spending a few evenings with Wisconsin residents through the Warm Showers program.

Warm Showers is a concept where fellow cyclists agree to host travelling cyclists passing through their town. Typically, they provide you with their extra bedroom or a place to stake a tent, allow access to their bathroom and if lucky, invite you to dinner. Cyclists download the Warm Showers app and then look for hosts in towns where they plan to stay for the night.  We are told it’s all part of that “cycling karma.”

After that wild overnight in Reedsburg, we set out on Thursday for our only day in Wisconsin where we had to spend the entire time on roads. Being on roads also meant we had to deal with real hills and vehicular traffic, something we hadn’t had to do for a while. After climbing to the top of a ridge, we were graced with a long downhill and then found our way through flat terrain into Sauk City, which is on the Wisconsin River.

There we stayed with Warm Showers host, Kelly. Kelly is very animated and we had no problem carrying on a conversation with her for the entire evening. She has done plenty of cycling in Wisconsin and perhaps, has her sights set on a cross-country trip in a few more years. Kelly’s mom, Mary, was also staying there for the night and she enjoyed showing us she is the queen in a game of Yahtzee!

The following morning, we set out for Madison, Wisconsin’s capital city. After riding for a few miles in the shoulder of busy US Route 12, we were able to once again pick up a bicycle trail that took us into the outskirts of Madison.

Madison is a magical city, situated on two lakes. We saw plenty of people kayaking, sculling and water skiing. It is also an absolute Mecca for bicyclists. There are scores of bike trails throughout and designated bike lanes on many of the city’s main streets.  We saw cyclists everywhere and rode by a couple of signs that keep count of how many cyclists pass by each day. 

One, on the Southwest Commuter Path, indicated that 500+ bikers had passed by that day. Another, on the Capital City Path, stated that some 1,167 cyclists had gone by that day, and it was only 3:00 on the afternoon! While we were getting some serious bicycle repairs done at Machinery Row Bicycles, (cassettes and chains replaced) we headed over to Great Dane Brewery and enjoyed a couple of IPAs.

That evening we stayed with Aram and Polly, on the east side of Madison. Between the two of them, they have worked and traveled in Asia and Africa and are certainly keen for more adventures. Aram had prepared a Lebanese meal with hummus that is the best we have ever tasted! Their cat has an affinity for chewing on cords including cell phone and laptop cords. They have to put protection on all of their cords as did we or he will readily destroy them with his teeth.

After departing Madison, we set our sights on the Glacial Drumlin Trail, which stretches 53 miles from Cottage Grove to Waukesha. Things were going great until we got to just east of Sullivan, where some tornadoes had passed through a couple of nights before. After navigating our way around a couple of blowdowns, we got to a spot which was impassible, and had to jump over to US 18 for a few miles. Eventually we were able to rejoin the Glacial Drumlin Trail and rode it from Dousman into Waukesha.

On Saturday, we travelled from Waukesha to Racine via the New Berlin State Trail, Milwaukee County’s Oak Leaf Trail and some back roads in Racine County. Along the way, we bumped into Patrick and Rachel who are also travelling across the country from Everett, WA to Maine and their Warm Showers hosts Barb and Gene, who showed them the way to the Oak Leaf Trail.

Thanks to the forward thinking of the parks commission in the early 1900s who purchased and protected the land, Charles B Whitnall, the landscape architect who designed the parks in a necklace of green, and Zip Morgan, a staunch bicycle advocate, who conceived the idea of the Oak Leaf Trail, there are some 135 miles of trails connecting several county parks throughout Milwaukee County. Portions of the trail follow the rivers and run along Lake Michigan.  We, New England folks had no idea of the richness within Milwaukee.

Tomorrow we will pass into Illinois and ride along a section of Lake Michigan.

Pat and Shevonne

Follow us as we spin our wheels

“Aren’t you going to go and talk to that person sitting over there?” Pat said to me as we were cycling along the La Crosse River Trail in Wisconsin. “What person? “I said, totally oblivious. “The woman with all the bicycle bags – I thought you were anxious to talk to other long distance cyclists”, Pat responded. And with that, we walked over and introduced ourselves to Miranda. “My partner, Phil, is out getting drinks at the gas station,” she said.  “We are cycling from La Crosse to Milwaukee and then taking the Amtrak back to our vehicle in the train station parking lot.” Phil returned shortly carrying two bottles of chilled blue Gatorade. As we continued conversing we learned that they have plans to be in Vermont in late summer and are interested in good cycling trails and good breweries. (They definitely sound like our kind of people). We then parted company as they were planning on cycling further than us. I am sure we did not think that we would bump into them again. Pat also pointed out that he thought we were cycling right next to the tracks that we rode west from Chicago through Wisconsin in early June.

Later in the afternoon we arrived in the town of Sparta, which promotes itself as the bicycle capital of the country.  The 32 mile Elroy to Sparta trail was established in 1967 and is well known for being the first rail trail in the USA. And that is etched in my memory because years ago, my father caught wind of the news and proposed that our family of five pack up our bicycles and give the trail a whirl. When I heard of this plan (at age 11), I was ecstatic. And yet, for whatever reason this trip never took place. Now at the age of 65 I am fulfilling this childhood dream.

After a restful night in Sparta, I was anxious to get going but then some strong thunderstorms appeared. After the storm subsided, we encountered plenty of downed trees requiring hand clearing and carrying our packed bicycles over several downed trees. The trail was a bit soft in places but as Pat said – “Wisconsin knows how to treat their trails”.  It wasn’t long before we entered our first tunnel, close to a mile long.  Only two more to go along with a detour on a busy highway.

When we came to the second closed section of the trail, I balked. I wanted to do the entire trail and regardless of the fence and signage that said trail was closed, I ignored it. In fact, I also ignored the next sign that said “Bridge Out”, thinking that perhaps they had fixed the bridge and not taken the closed sign down. Not! Pat shook his head, mumbled a few choice words and we retraced our steps to the highway. And so, we did complete the trail but had to cycle the last seven miles on the road.

After a water break at the trail’s end, we were ready to keep on cycling another 22 miles, this time on the 400 Trail (named such because of a locomotive way back in history that covered the territory between Chicago and Minneapolis (400 miles) in 400 hours. And 14 miles into our ride we caught up with Miranda and Phil. Turns out we were all planning on camping in Reedsburg at the local town campground equipped with a shelter, a few tables and a shower.

We quickly set up two campsites and then walked into town to enjoy dinner and a brew at the local brewpub. Upon our return, the skies had clouded over and we could see some flashes of lightning in the distance.  After showering and getting into our muggy tent, we heard a scream and saw Miranda and Phil running from the picnic shelter. “Hey what’s going on?” I yelled out. “There’s a rattlesnake next to the trash can”, Miranda answered.  “Great,” Pat said. “If we get a storm now, we won’t be able to go to the shelter.” Sure enough, two hours later, the storm came in. full on, with wicked winds, plenty of lightning and thunder. Pat and I decided to make a run for it – zipped up the tent, and ran to the shelter. The snake was nowhere to be found. By 1 a.m. we were back in our tent. Morning came quickly and we shared a meal Miranda had prepared. Together the four of us cycled seven miles before each going in different directions. We hope that our paths will cross once again in the future.

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels

Back on our bicycles once again, we began anew in Harmony, Minnesota, just a bit over the Iowa border. I had mapped out the perfect day – 53 miles of paved trail to Houston, Minnesota. The trail winds along the South Branch and Main Branch of the Root River through beautiful scenery and quaint small towns, that by and large have espoused the river and the bicycle trail. There are lots of businesses catering to cyclists, rafters and anglers. Lanesboro is a quaint old railroad town and Whalan offers a pie shop with 25 varieties of pie. Cycling on the Root River Trail also marked our reunification with the old grade of the former Milwaukee Road rail line which was where we began our journey in Washington state.

We set up camp at the Houston Nature Center, which is exclusively for walk in camping. Though we were forewarned that it was the annual “Hoedown” weekend and that bands would be playing right next door to the campsite at the fairgrounds until 1 a.m. we didn’t pay it much heed.  What we didn’t know was that there would be a tractor pull, followed by a truck pull at the fairgrounds that lasted for four hours, throwing billows of black smoke into the air and driving us asunder with all of the engine revving.

At 7 am on Sunday, we were the first guests at the Houston Lion’s Club annual gravy and biscuit breakfast. Though we didn’t realize it at the time, this would be the day’s highlight.  Before leaving Houston, I discovered my rear tire was shredded.  Fortunately, I had just purchased two replacement tires in Decorah – one for my bicycle and one for Shevonne’s. What I presumed would be a quick fix turned into a two-hour work-out that included destroying two inner tubes as well.  Thankfully, a bicycle repair guru finally appeared on the scene and with our last tube, he was able to get the tire back on successfully. His recommendation is to stop using the tire levers because they rip the inner tubes.

Wheel back on the bicycle, I then discovered my front tire was about to blow. Without another tire that fit my bicycle and without a local bicycle shop we were a bit stuck. Miraculously, Dan and Faith appeared and offered to give us a ride into Lacrosse. We had met Dan and Faith earlier in the morning when attempting to repair the tire and they were now back after their 26-mile ride. “We believe in karma,” said Dan as he loaded our bicycles on the back of his pick-up truck. Dan describes himself as a cook for cows –he makes sure they are getting the right nutrients and Faith works at the University of Wisconsin in Lacrosse, doing what she describes as triage for college students to ensure their success.

After driving past multiple closed bicycle shops, we gave up and rented a hotel room for the night. We checked out the Mississippi River and the bridge we had planned to ride over the river. When they open we will visit a local bike shop to have them inspect all of our tires, replace any as needed and perform any other tuning up as needed.

Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels

It was mid-morning last Sunday when we stopped on our way north from Gladbrook at a picnic shelter on the Pioneer Trail. There were two people sitting together and chatting at one of the other tables who unbeknownst to us, were holding their quarterly meeting of the Central Iowa’s Dowsers Association. This did not truly become evident until I witnessed a gentleman swinging a pendulum over a set of cards and asked – “What are you doing?”  Thus, ensued a brief conversation that touched on Reiki and long distance healing energy.  I mentioned that the last time anyone swung a pendulum over my head, 24 years ago, it was because they were attempting to coax my body into labor.

Our next stop was in Hudson, whose main street screamed – block party aftermath. It was time for our daily dose of a sugar sweetened beverage to give us a jolt of energy.  We spotted a local bar and parked our bicycles, maneuvering through the sea of motorcyclists taking a smoke break. It was at that moment I made the error of saying to them, “You don’t have to wear helmets in this state?”, which was a less than smooth comment and prompted plenty of biker swagger from the group. Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut.

On our way once again, we cycled along the Sergeant Road Trail to the outskirts of Waterloo, then the Cedar Prairie Trail into downtown Cedar Falls, then across the Cedar River to North Cedar, the home of Warm Showers hosts, Randy and Laura Hashman. We were ecstatic to meet each other and they quickly made us feel at home, offering a variety of beverages and appetizers while we relaxed and conversed in their beautifully landscaped patio and back yard.

“Our daughter, Linden, and her partner, Jake, convinced us that we should be Warm Showers hosts”, Laura said. Linden and Jake were the recipient of many Warm Showers hosts during their cycling adventure, which began in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska with their 55-pound dog. Their originally intended destination was Argentina, but the trip was cut short in Baja because of the pandemic. Linden, Jake and Jane, Laura’s mom, joined us for a fabulous dinner of rib-eyes, sweet corn, potatoes, cucumbers, Jake’s home brew and plenty of laughter.

After Randy’s and Laura’s gracious hospitality, it was difficult to want to leave the next morning. Corey, my son, who lives in Decorah with his partner, Kyra, had made an early morning call proposing he pick us up in Sumner, Iowa. We readily agreed as we wanted to spend more time with them.  Forty miles later, after sharing some chips and a soda and some fruit from a small general store, we converged in one of Sumner’s local parks.

The last two times I have been in Decorah they were overnight visits; first during RAGBRAI in 1993 and then once again after RAGBRAI in 2012. Pat and I love this community and Corey and Kyra’s Victorian dwelling. They live a few blocks from town with three cats who have the run of the neighborhood.

We are impressed with Decorah’s topography, parks and trails and how happy and relaxed everyone seems.Corey cycled the 11-mile Trout Run trail with us one morning, which took us along the river to the hatchery and then up and over several good hills.

We have made repairs and substitutions to our gear to prepare for the rest of our journey east. We’ve checked out the Toppling Goliath brewery, the Seed Saver’s property, and learned much about how the Norwegians came to settle in the US by spending a morning at the Vesterheim Museum. We are presently partaking of Decorah’s annual Nordic Fest that is chock full of new foods to try, music to appreciate and Nordic dancing.  Alas, tomorrow morning we are back on the trails, this time through a section of southeastern Minnesota.

And thanks to Michelle and June who sent us a care package of healthy cycling treats to get us the rest of the way home!

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels

Over the past six days we have cycled some 250 miles in Iowa and experienced all kinds of extremes including the terrain and the trails.  Iowa takes bicycling seriously (it is the birthplace of the annual RAGBRAI, the Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa), now in its) and the state has invested heavily in creating some very fine trails.

Most of which we have travelled have been paved, unlike almost every other state, but during our ride from Woodward, we began on a lovely concrete trail which turned to crushed limestone which turned into a grassy trail with a foot path.

And then there are the roads. We have thoroughly enjoyed some beautiful paved roads, where we have made good time and also suffered through some miserable gravel roads where the loose stone has forced us to unclip our shoes and, in some cases, forced a dismounting from our bicycles. Unlike the gravel roads in other states, where small stone is spread over the road surface, Iowa spreads one-inch stone diameter stone, which is problematic for bicycles. After encountering another one of these roads again today, we quickly found the nearest paved road, did a detour, and have sworn off any more gravel roads in Iowa.

We cycled on the High Trestle Trail, the Heart of Iowa Nature Trail, the 30/330 Trail and the Linn Creek Trail, all of which are on the Great American Rail Trail. The main attraction of the High Trestle Trail is a 13-story high bridge that traverses the Des Moines River just east of Woodward. This trestle is the icon of Iowa’s bicycle trail system. Originally built by the Union Pacific Railroad, when they moved their tracks further north, they pulled the trestle, leaving the piers but no way across the river. After years of raising funds and state appropriations, the $15 million-dollar trestle pays specific tribute to Des Moines coal miners, as the sculptures within the bridge represent the tunnels coal miners traveled through and the blue lights which appear at nightfall represent the coal miners’ lights.  Crossing that bridge was certainly a high point of our journey!

Yesterday, we travelled 65 miles, from Woodward to Marshalltown, a city of 27,000 people. It was a darn good thing that out legs held up as there was virtually nothing for services between those two towns. We visited downtown Marshalltown, which has the look of a very traditional USA downtown that all of us baby boomers experienced as kids. It also has a very stately City Hall, with a high clock tower that is undergoing renovations. And then planning on a short 25-mile ride to Wolf Creek Recreation Area, things changed. As we were studying our Iowa map, to make sure we were following paved roads, a friendly couple stopped their car to ask if we needed help.

They informed us that the Wolf Creek Recreation Area was located on a gravel road, and if we wanted to head north on a paved road, we needed to go to Gladbrook. We looked at each other and agreed “not another damned gravel road.”  Gladbrook certainly seemed pleasant and welcoming with large maple and oak trees lining the streets. We decided to gamble and try and find a place to set up our tent.  Shevonne set off on foot to scope out the local town park and eventually ran into Sheila Lundt, who was working in her front yard. Sheila attempted to find out whether camping is allowed in the park and when there wasn’t really a solid answer, she help us she graciously offered us her back yard that is also full of peonies, a pear tree and a pussy willow tree and as she says if you dig far enough down you will find prairie grass. Thanks very much to Sheila for your generosity.

Stopping in Gladbrook turned out to be an unexpected “blessing in disguise.” Once again, we bumped into the same couple who had directed us toward paved roads earlier and they suggested we walk to the local 4H fair which we did.  And unbelievably, in a town that once saw better times, we discovered Matchstick Marvels, an exhibition featuring models built completely out of matchsticks. Pat Acton, has been creating replicas the Iowa Governor’s Mansion, the US Capitol, Notre Dame de Paris, spaceships, Navy ships and several animals, for over 40 years. A former career counselor, many of his creations are now part of the Ripley Believe It or Not Museums. Shevonne pointed out that he also built a replica of the Challenger. 

Yes indeed, it was a very good thing that Wolf Creek Recreation Area is on a gravel road!

Pat and Shevonne

Follow us as we spin our wheels

When we arrived in Lorah a few days ago yesterday after a significantly challenging day on relentless Iowa hills and gravel roads, my rear tire had a psi of 27. And a few hours later, it was down to 8 psi. Obviously, it was time to face the music and replace the tube.

Last April, I spent a week with David Morganwalp, my brother-in-law in Virginia, doing some cycling trips, attending his class on tire changing and learning about Green Goop. David has been providing significant guidance to us for over a year as he, too, is in the process of cycling the USA but he is doing so on the Transamerica Trail on the Five-Year Plan rather than our 80 Day Plan.

Turns out that April was a really long time ago; thus, we put in three life line calls to David early in the morning while in the process of getting the inner tube changed. With his expertise, we were able to change the inner tube successfully. THANK YOU, David and thanks for conversing with us earlier on this trip from your canoe in New York. With your assistance, I know we can pull this off.

The day of bicycle mishaps wasn’t over. We put our wheels to the T-Bone trail (a paved trail christened as such because once upon a time the farmers rode with their steers to market on the former rail line). When Pat hit a bump, his pannier fell to the ground (this is not the first time) and the outside clasps sheared off.  Frustrating we patched it back together with rope until we reached a hardware store in Audubon where Pat purchased bungee cords.

Why is this town called Audubon?  For John James Audubon, the famous ornithologist. There are statutes of him and several ceramic tile pieces that line the sidewalks in his honor. Audubon, is also the home of Albert, the world’s largest bull.   When we stopped to take a photo of Albert, we found that he is in the process of getting a refresh so he can look prim and proper for the next 30 years. The rest of the day’s trip tested our mojo and Pat was crushing it as I got further and further behind. As we got closer to our planned destination in Guthrie Center we checked on the weather and learned that 30 counties in Iowa were under a tornado watch. Rather than camp, we found a room at the Mid-Town Motel.

As we travel on many gravel and paved roads (when trails aren’t available) we are stunned by the number of truckers hauling 30 foot trailers filled with rocks. Where are they all going? To build roads for wind turbines which are growing at a furious pace among the corn and soybean fields. And we are also being exposed to crop dusters and helicopters who are out spraying the fields. Occasionally they get a kick out of buzzing us as we cycle by.

Thursday’s ride was one for the books. After negotiating truck traffic and sand strewn shoulders for seven miles, we arrived in the town of Panora. While having some iced coffees, we struck up a conversation with two former teachers and a local farmer who has a thousand-acre farm. I am learning that a thousand acres is about what one needs to make it and that the corn and soybeans are processed and travel throughout the world.

From Panora, we found our way to the paved Raccoon River Valley Trail (in total this trail is 89 miles in length) to Perry and eventually to dinner and camping at the Whistling Donkey restaurant and campground in Woodward.  Best of all, it was an easier day (very flat) though I recognize this may be short lived when we head further north.

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels across the USA

“You will never get through the Cowboy Trail in Nebraska with those tires,” said another cyclist we had met back on the Mickelson Trail in SD. “It’s now quicksand because of extensive flooding in 2019.” We were extremely disappointed as we had been focused on cycling multiple miles on the Cowboy Trail. Resourceful as we have become, we punted, rented a 10-foot U-Haul truck in Chadron, drove through the Sand Hills and dropped the truck off in Lincoln. After a night’s rest, we were back on the Great American Rail Trail, destination Omaha.

We headed east on the MoPac Trail (the old Missouri Pacific Railroad) through Lincoln, stopping for lunch in Eagle minutes before a thunderous washout kept us from moving forward. And then a subsequent downpour caused us to attempt to stay in a local park until a neighbor gave us a thumbs-down. Onward we went to South Bend, to a brand-new campground, called the Omaha Campsite, complete with a horse, several goats, chickens and a Great Pyrenees. The owner, Corey Price, was thrilled to have us as his first paying customers. “I am going to frame this $20 bill and hang it on the wall,” he said.  And, after a somewhat soggy night, Corey showed up in his golf cart the next morning with a thermos of coffee and some goat’s milk soap.

Heading towards Omaha from Corey’s, we crossed the recently renovated Lied Bridge over the Platte River before the real fun began. There was the road, closed for construction, that we needed to cycle through – a bad move as our bicycles and our shoes got covered in mud. Then we got a bit confused because of the lack of trail signage and thought we were going west when we were really going northeast. Lastly, having dismissed the idea that even though two days earlier Omaha had sustained severe thunderstorms, 95-mile an hour winds and that 200,000 homes were without power, we would be able to cycle right into the city we discovered that was too optimistic. The trails were covered with downed trees, requiring plenty of bicycle carries and debris removal. Upon our very late arrival, we were welcomed to Omaha by Christopher Schmidt, our second “Warm Showers” host on this trip. He rolled out the red carpet, making us a scrumptious dinner and shared plenty of cycling stories. Because we inevitably are next to a freight train, either when camping or staying in a motel, we asked Christopher if he lived near the train tracks. “I work for the Union Pacific Railroad,” he said. Does that count? And as usual, we heard at least one freight train go by in the midst of the Omaha night.

Monday morning, we found our way to Council Bluff, IA, crossing the Missouri River on the impressive Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge.  You may have noticed my fascination with bridges. That’s because I majored in Civil Engineering. In the middle of the bridge, we crossed into Iowa, my first time ever in this state. Being from the East Coast, my stereotypical image of Iowa is that it is flat.

Monday’s journey solidified that as we made our way some 30 miles over flat terrain to Underwood.  And then we turned right onto the Magnolia Road.  Oops, big hill staring at us! Since it was already 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and there was a truck stop motel in front of us, we opted to bag the last 20 miles we had planned and rented a room.

I spent hours planning our travels for the next few days and today, Tuesday, we rode over 40 miles, from Underwood to Lorah. The trip featured hill, after hill, after hill. Iowa is not flat! This area undulates up and down like a sine wave.  Along the way, we passed through Neola, Minden and Avoca, all towns that were established when the Rock Island railroad was built. And then there was Walnut, a town of 745 people, whose main street is lined with numerous antique shops and pretty much nothing else. Oh, and we saw fields and fields of corn and soybeans. Now, that’s the Iowa I was expecting.

During the heat of the mid-afternoon, as were we fighting the hills on a gravel road, a woman named Teri stopped her car and asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine but the hills were beginning to get to me. “Come up to my place and I will provide you with some chilled water,” she said. Of course, that meant one more hill climb but it was the best water I’ve tasted this whole trip.

Tomorrow we’ll be back on a rail trail, thank goodness, riding the T-Bone Trail.

Follow us as we spin our wheels

Pat and Shevonne

The mystery as to why all the parked RV’s at the Edgemont campground were without people was solved on the morning of July 5^th.  “There was a big event yesterday that many of us participated in,” said a young man who was in the process of hooking his camper up to his pickup when I asked him where everyone had been. Because that didn’t satisfy my curiosity, I followed up with another question- “What kind of event was it?  “It was a gathering of people from several states to check out some bunkers, listen to some speakers and share a meal”, he said.  “I ‘m from Montana and I don’t know which way this country is heading”, he added. And in that moment, I decided to forgo any more questions.

Back once again at the diner where we had met Frank and Peggy the previous evening, we were surrounded by folks at tables and booths who also had attended the bunker event and were abuzz with excitement. “Let’s get some furniture for our bunker,” one woman suggested to her husband.  And another couple with whom we briefly talked were determined to return to Arkansas, sell their home and move here and purchase a bunker.

Pat had done a bit of sleuthing earlier about the bunkers and he had discovered the following:  During World War II, Fort Igloo, an Army base, right outside of Edgemont, was charged with bomb development and experimentation. Eighteen square miles under the earth, 575 bunkers had been built that were each 2200 square feet in size and could each hold 10-20 people. A few years ago, an enterprising individual leased the former base and began marketing these bunkers as “the backup plan for humanity.” For a one-time payment of $25,000 individuals can lease one of the bunkers to wait out the end of days.

Not knowing what to make of this all, we opted instead to concentrate on our present dilemma – how to get from Edgemont to Chadron, Nebraska. Two of the local residents shook their heads when Pat described our plans. “I won’t even drive my pickup through those 27 miles of gravel,” they said. “The rocks are gigantic.”

Because of the holiday weekend, we had chosen to stay an extra day in Edgemont – this time at the local Cowboy Motel and to meet up with Frank and Peggy for dinner once again, this time at the Hat Creek Café. They could have retired anywhere but they love this town, and have a home on a dead-end road near the railroad tracks – not realizing how many times a day those freight trains would be passing by each day. When Pat asked Frank whether he thought we could handle the gravel roads to Oelrichs, Frank said – “sure, because you are experienced cyclists.”

So, with that recommendation, the next morning we found ourselves pedaling on the 27 miles of gravel,while we searched for prairie dogs who never showed themselves

We did scare a few cows and horses however.  Proud of how quickly we arrived in Olreichs, we discovered that the advertised campground offered no amenities other than a prefab open shelter with two picnic tables and biting flies, a Pepsi machine and a water pump. There were no showers and no toilets Two trailers with long-term residents were the only other folks on the property and the grass was burnt to a crisp. Hoping to find a bit of food, we cycled back into town to the Black Hills Saloon, the only establishment around. While dining on microwaved pizza we studied everything on the walls and learned from the bar maid that the historic bar and mirror were moved here from Deadwood in 1802. Oelrichs is known for its rodeo and is not far from the Pine Ridge Reservation or the town of Wounded Knee.  And the bathroom at the saloon wasn’t working so they had put a port-a-let outside.

The next day’s route to Chadron had me shaking in my boots as it required riding on a US highway for 32 miles. Though it promised a wide shoulder, at the Nebraska border, the road went from a divided highway to two lanes. Other than the casino and restaurant, not yet open at the border, there were no places to stop and grab a cool drink. Thankfully despite some unsteady RV drivers and tractor trailers traveling at speeds over 75 miles per hour, we arrived in Chadron, thirsty but unscathed. Chadron is an old railroad town which is also home to Chadron State College. The main street has shops, a movie theatre, a few places to purchase espresso and a natural food co-op.

We located the home of our Warm Showers hosts, Cheryl and Steve Welch We signed up for this program a few weeks ago after learning that it was created so long-distance cyclists might find a comfortable yard to pitch a tent and make use of the host’s shower. As we entered the yard, we heard Spanish music playing, found some very lively chickens and Leylo, a friendly dog to greet us. Cheryl and Steve were in the process of picking up their daughter, MacKenzie, and her partner, Ricardo, from the airport. When they all returned, we spent the rest of the afternoon with them, learning about their family and their community. Cheryl shared that she had gone to school in Woodstock Vermont and then UVM and somewhere along the way, had worked for Vermont Bicycle Touring. Her parents had hosted youth from the Fresh Air Program and from the Mohawk Tribe. And then, we discovered that I had once met Cheryl’s mother, Joey and her now stepfather, Brian, at their musical revue in Mount Snow in the mid 1980’s. How fortuitous is it that? Is that one or two degrees of separation? As it turns out, our good friends the Ahernes are good friends with Joey and Brian and that’s how we all met.  

After hiking to the top of the ridge behind Chadron to check out the big C and the labyrinth with our hosts, we said our adieus for the night. In the morning, thanks to the work of the chickens we dined on delicious eggs before  heading out of town.

Shevonne and Pat

Follow us as we spin our wheels