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DAY
26
When I woke at 6 am the wind was blowing hard against my flysheet
and I could hear thunder in the distance. By 7 am it was pouring
with a strong easterly. I remained cocooned in the tent for a couple
of hours listening to music and relaxing. By 11 am I was on the
road again. Once I reached Mitchell it was time to have breakfast
and take a quiet road to Sioux Falls. Highway 35 runs parallel to
the Interstate 1 most of the way but meanders off in different directions
for no apparent reason. Here the land is more fertile, ground crops
carpet the landscape, whitewashed farm buildings and Dutch barns.
Life is slow again, no lemming-like desire to reach a destination,
just farmers in pick-ups slowly cruising down the road, a honk and
a wave, a smile from beneath the shade of their baseball caps.
When I reach small country towns I often
detour down back streets. I like the concept of the older, traditional
American house - close to the street with a porch in front. People
sit there interacting with the community and travellers like me.
"Have a nice day" they wave. I reply and cycle on. From
a social point of view, architects and town planners have moved
away from this interactive mode of living to a totally private residence
where television is the hub of the family circle. It's a great pity,
particularly amongst the elderly and infirm who feel like outcasts
in the community.
I stop at a 'Subway' for lunch. Out of
all the fast food outlets they sell the most nutritious meal. Wheat
rolls with fresh salad and meat with the option of a 12" or
6" roll. I buy a 6" and cycle down the road, sit on a
wooden fence and watch the world go by. Late in the afternoon, as
I approach Sioux Falls, light rain falls. I stop to refill my water
bottle from a tap behind a gas station. I don't buy water very often
and I'd like to know why it's more expensive than petrol. When you
look at the process involved in producing a litre of petrol and
compare that to a litre of water (a lot of soft drinks are cheaper
than water too!) Also, I'm suspicious of the origin of so-called
'mineral water.' I reach the large town of Sioux Falls in the evening,
find a campsite and as I start putting up the tent a thunderstorm
brings more rain.
DAY 27
I wake up early. The campground is close to the highway - all night
the constant drone of traffic. I've decided to go into town this
morning (about 5 miles away). I need to go to the post office, bike
shop, library etc. The roads around the city are dangerous for cyclists
- no shoulders, huge potholes and motorists who force you into the
kerb. I went to the library first, did some photocopying, hooked
up to the internet and read the latest Tour de France news. A friend
of mine, Ken from Sydney, e-mailed me a joke that was so funny I
laughed loudly. Everyone in the library looked at me and the guy
sitting next to me mumbled "I didn't notice the echo in this
library before." In the town centre people dressed in business
suits dashed backwards and forwards. I sat on a step outside the
post office, suddenly realising how slow and relaxed the country
towns had been. People look at their watches - I don't know what
day it is! My life is so elemental - sleep when it's dark, eat when
I'm hungry and use my legs to power a machine a hundred miles a
day. A guy in a suit stops for a chat and I hear that familiar line
".....I used to bike when I was young" as if age was a
prerequisite for recreational cycling!
 I
decide to head down to the bike shop 3 or 4 miles south - road works,
potholes, dust, noise. When I arrive I buy a puncture outfit. I've
used a lot of patches since Vancouver Island. Outside the store
I see a cut in the top of my front tyre - time for a new one anyhow.
Outside, on the concrete in the sun, I replace the tyre. The guys
in the shop show no interest in my bike or situation - in fact the
owner doesn't even say 'hello.' It's not a real bike shop after
all, just a retailer of bicycles. It's getting late and I head into
a huge supermarket for supplies - bread, tomatoes, bananas, pasta
etc. I call back into the post office and head out of town, stopping
at a gas station for a drink after 8 miles - my wallet isn't in
my bag. I decide to telephone the post office as that is the last
place I visited. A recorded message "if you require such and
such, press one ....." I find an 1800 number and get another
recorded message, eventually I'm in a queue to speak to an operator,
music is playing and my stomach is churning. What if I dropped it
and some hoods are in a casino right now - with my VISA card. Worst
case scenarios flash through my mind. In the end I talk to a man
at Sioux Falls post office. "I'll have a look around sir, hold
on." After what seemed like centuries he has my wallet. "We
are leaving in 15 minutes sir, the post office is closing."
I jump on my bike and time trial to the post office. When I get
there the door is locked. I go into the private mailbox area and
explain my predicament to a couple of people. "Shout through
that slot, there might be someone in the sorting room." I shout
- no luck. “Try some animal noises," they suggest. Three
of us, mouths in front of a slot in the door - one is a chicken,
one a duck and I'm a dog. "This will ferret them out"
we laugh. A female postal worker is standing behind us watching
our antics - she has my wallet in her hand. "Is this what all
the fuss is about?" she laughs. I head back out of town - mixed
emotions - happy to have my wallet but unhappy about retracing my
route. It's now 7 pm and I decide to pedal the 25 miles to Luverne
on 90. It's slow going - I seem to have expended a lot of energy
today on non-cycling tasks.
DAY 28
I leave Luverne with a severe headwind and light rain and head along
90 to Worthington. It's a busy road and I'm fighting to make good
progress. I take my wet weather gear off and then put if back on
again. As I turn north-east from Worthington the road is quieter,
lots of ground crops - corn, beans, alfalfa and giant silos like
Wallace and Grommit spaceships that can be seen from five miles
away. I stop at a gas station, sit on the kerb with a drink, listening
to Jennifer Warne's album 'Famous Blue Raincoat' while I wear my
not so famous fluoro yellow raincoat. Music is a placebo on rainy
days and hot, weary afternoons. Sometimes stopping on days like
this makes if difficult to get back on the bike. After half an hour
my back tyre explodes. It was worn and ready to be replaced anyway.
While I'm busy on the verge a patrol officer pulls up, lights flashing
on his car. He asked if he could help then we talked about my journey.
"You take care now" he smiled and drove off, lights still
flashing. When I arrive in Windom I decide to call it a day and
find a place to pitch my tent near the Des Moines River. Nearby
there's a baseball game under lights. I make a cup of tea, have
a wash and head for the sleeping bag.
DAY 29
The scenery improves today - still miles of ground crops but also
pockets of trees. White-washed houses float on an ocean of corn,
the cool wind creating gentle waves. I pass another ethanol processing
plant where grain is converted to alcohol and about 10% is added
to gasoline to reduce carbon monoxide emission. In North Queensland
sugar cane is used to produce ethanol. I head through Mankato and
onto Owatonna. It is late afternoon when I stop to get a meal in
a café and as I leave it is getting dark. I know there's a campground
about 10 miles down Highway 90 but as I approach the junction a
patrol officer tells me that bicycles aren't allowed on this freeway.
He points vaguely down a small road. "You can get through down
there." I cycle off into the darkness and, after about 5 miles,
end up in a quiet industrial area with no lighting. I felt like
I had ridden into the Bermuda Triangle of Owatonna as I rode around
in circles before deciding to head back. This time I asked a guy
in a gas station who was very vague and about an hour later I ended
up east of the town. At 11.30 pm I rode into a campground where
the owner, Greg, was very helpful. He let me camp free of charge.
Up with the tent, a shower, bed at 12.30 am.
DAY 30
I took my time this morning. Lots of conversations about my bicycle
and the journey. Although I don't drink coffee at home, the caffeine
'hit' has become a part of my diet in North America - it helps to
'kick start' my energy level at different times of the day. Late
morning I thank Greg for his hospitality. My plan of action today
is to head east to Rochester (about 40 miles) then head south-east
to Chatfield and cycle through Amish country - Arendahl, Rushford
and tomorrow through La Crosse on the Mississippi River. Sometimes
the first hill is the hardest of the day. My legs start to 'remember'
the night before. The road to Rochester is busy but, as in a lot
of places on my ride, the verges are splattered with a palette of
colours - wildflowers everywhere. It's hot and humid so I have my
bottles wrapped in damp camp towels (some people use wet socks!)
As I head down a quieter road towards Chatfield the scenery changes
- hills, trees and an English-looking landscape. Fences are painted
white and every house seems to have manicured gardens and freshly-cut
lawns. The farmland is lush and fertile - dark greens and deep browns.
Dairy cattle lift their heads from the grass and watch me cycle
past, dogs bark in unison from distant farmhouses and the air has
the aroma of fresh manure. As I cycle into Chatfield it's dark and
I freewheel down the main street looking for food. I choose a bar
with half a dozen Harleys parked outside. "You're the guy we
passed in Rochester," one of the bikers remarked. Once they
found out I was from Australia a beer appeared in my hand and an
hour of non-stop laughing and jokes. It was fun and the bar meal
did the job. As I left shouts of "see ya Aussie Colin"
followed me out into the darkness. I camped in a city park on the
edge of town after washing behind a gas station.
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