USA (2) PART TWO
SEATTLE - BOSTON
22 May – 1 October 2014
8173 Kilometres – 134 days
PART TWO
24 June - 1 October 2014
6473 km - 103 days
Washington (2)
Washington Photos
Oregon Photos
Idaho
Idaho Photos
Montana
Montana Photos
Wyoming
Yellowstone Photos
Montana (2)
Montana Photos
Wyoming (2)
Wyoming Photos
Minnesota
Minnesota Photos
Wisconsin
Wisconsin Photos
Michigan
Michigan Photos
Ohio
Photos Ohio
Pennsylvania
New
York
Photos New York
Massachusetts
Photos Massachusetts
Washington (2)
24-25 June -Seattle
First thing in the morning, a short walk took me to
the Canadian Consulate, merely to find they had no visa information and didn't
know how to collect it once granted. This lack of info left me no choice but to
proceed east across the US's northern states until Canadian access was granted.
The weather was most glorious and perfect to join a
walking tour, sampling their world-famous clam chowder and feeding seagulls
while watching the sunset.
26 June - Seattle – Riverbend Camping - 90 km
Unable to cross into Canada, the time came to start
the great trek east, first heading south towards Portland and then east via the
Columbian Gorge. Looking at the map, it appeared an exciting ride.
Even though cloudy, the weather wasn't cold. The
remarkable thing was it was warmer weather in Washington than in San Francisco.
Leaving, the route passed the Boeing factory, which didn't simply have a Museum
of Flight, but also one of Light and I was sorry I didn't do the Boeing tour.
Being cherry time, my path was peppered by stalls
selling delicious cherries and a few sweet ones were bagged for the road.
Heading south on the old Pacific Highway, I came
upon Riverbend campsite. The camp was expensive, add one had to pay to get a
hot shower; it became the costliest shower that far.
27 June - Riverbend Campground – Lewis and Clark SP
- 98 km
It rained throughout the night, and on waking, rain
was still dripping on the tent, which made me curl up and sleep an additional
hour after which the rain had abated. Packing up was a quick affair and
following donning rain gear, I hopped on my iron horse for the ride towards
Vancouver. Albeit drizzling from time to time, the ride was enjoyable, partly
along a bike path that ran through the woods for almost 15–20 miles.
A supermarket made stocking up in Toledo convenient,
followed by the regular search to find a camping spot. The nearby Lewis and
Clark SP was a lovely place in a forest, although a few mighty strange noises
were in the woods. By evening, I zipped up the tent and hoped nothing would
carry me away, seeing I was the only one there and their choices thus a tad
limited.
28 June - Lewis and Clark SP – Vancouver - 108 km
The drizzle which woke me continued all day with
the result there were barely any stops, and the camera never came out. So
little option remained but to pull the cap down low and head towards the next
campsite. Stopping at a Burger Hut to have lunch was a treat, if just to
people-watch. Some, obviously, already had a few burgers too many, and the last
thing they needed was one more massive milkshake.
It started drizzling once on the road, and I turned
into the first inexpensive-looking establishment to get out of the weather.
Oregon (2)
29 June - Vancouver – Portland - 60 km
Vicki, a 365-project friend, who lived in Portland
at the time, invited me to visit and packing up was at leisure as the ride to
their house was only a short distance. Vancouver's Old Fort begged to be
explored and afterwards I looked for a bike path across the Colombia River.
The weather was glorious, and the bike path next to
the river was jam-packed with cyclists. A stop at Blue Lake Park, a large
scenic area, was a great place to eat my takeaway. People were out and about,
kids were swimming, and all enjoyed the excellent summer weather.
Locating John and Vicki's place was uncomplicated
and I was treated like royalty by these two amazing people. They didn't simply
offer me a bed but treated me to supper at a floating restaurant. Then, at
home, we chatted nonstop while my laundry was being done. How awesome is that?
30 June - Portland – The Dalles - 123 km
The following day was lovely; the sun was out, and
one could even wear shorts. I waved goodbye to John and Vicki and continued my
journey along the Columbia River. The way east led through the Columbia River
Gorge and followed the Historic Columbia River Highway. The ride was stunning
past numerous waterfalls and scenic areas. Vicki packed plenty to eat, and
maybe it was those chocolate chip cookies that made me ride to The Dalles, a
small settlement along the river.
1 July - The Dalles - 32 km
I emerged with a sore throat and could feel a fat
cold coming on. I'd no patience for these minor illnesses and was kind of
hoping it would disappear overnight. (Don't we all?) Pedalling out of town, a
stop at Safeway provided medicine, claiming to clear a cold in record time.
Feeling positively rotten, a meagre 30 kilometres
were cycled to the next campsite, a pity as the weather was great and the day
wind-free. People informed the Gorge was a notoriously windy area. One could
merely hope the wind-free weather would last until the following day.
2 July - The Dalles – Boardman - 114 km
Still feeling under the weather, staying one more
day was enticing, but my restlessness got the better of me. With the wind in my
favour, packing up was a speedy affair. A strong tailwind made effortless
riding in the direction of Boardman – a good thing too, as I was feeling
downright terrible.
Boardman had a beautiful campsite offering a
genuinely luxurious lawn right on the Columbia River. The nearby shops provided
a stack of food, but I had no appetite and just ate the salad.
The pedal or bottom bracket made the most ungodly
noise and I could only hope it would see me through to the next village,
roughly 30 miles further.
3 July - Boardman – Pendleton & Shuttle bus to
La Grande - 100 km (& 45 miles by shuttle bus)
The next morning, a short bike ride took me to a
surprisingly well-stocked bike shop for such a small community. After replacing
the pedals, and with the wind in my back I rolled into La Grande early.
As soon as the road left the Columbia River, the
landscape changed to vast plains where my path took me through endless wheat
fields. Still suffering from a cold and not feeling too energetic, I pushed on
over the hills and soon could see Pendleton far down in the valley.
In Pendleton, signs indicated the stretch between
Pendleton and La Grange were off-limits to bicycles due to maintenance work. This
was however well organised America and a shuttle bus service operated between
the two towns. Unfortunately, the bus was only at 17h00, leaving a long wait.
Once in pretty La Grange, I weakened at the sight of a motel room which made
easy kicking back the rest of the evening.
4-6 July - La Grange – Baker City - 72 km
The cold and flu medicine bought didn't quite live
up to its claim of relieving the symptoms super-fast and, still feeling
dreadful, I continued along Highway 84. Once at the top of the hill, one could
see the tarmac stretching miles ahead towards the historic town of Baker City and
I'd a strong suspicion this would be the last flat section for a while.
Feeling positively rotten, the Eldorado Inn made a
good enough place to spend the night. Being Independence Day, I thought it a
pity I felt as awful as I did. Though all countries celebrate their
independence, no country celebrated the day with as much gusto as the
Americans.
Waking, feeling all blocked up, including a heavy
head and a tight chest, there was no point in cycling. Instead, I walked to the
shop, got more flu tablets, and returned to bed, where I spent two full days as
I was clearly not going to cycle the flu away.
7 July - Baker City – Ontario - 135 km
At last, my cold abated, allowing pedalling out of
Baker City. The road followed what is known as the Old Oregon Trail. The trail
was an old wagon route and emigrant trail which ran from east to west across
the country, remarkably similar to the Great Trek in my home country.
The landscape also reminded me of South Africa as
it very much resembled the Karoo. The route passed through sleepy hamlets
featuring abandoned train stations, a railway line, a pub and church, the only
thing missing was a forlorn-looking Pepper Willow.
I followed the Snake River, and with such a name
camping wasn't on top of my to-do list. However, the weather was perfect,
around 30°C during the day – perfect for cycling. I was on a bit of a downhill
run and hence continued towards Ontario - the last stop until crossing the
border into Idaho.
Idaho
8–9 July - Ontario – Boise - 97 km
Once across the state border into Idaho, my path
continued until reaching the turnoff to Boise. Then, being invited by Rachel
and Patrick, two Warm Showers hosts, I headed downtown and followed the
greenbelt bike path into the city centre. From the city, a short ride led to
Rachel and Patrick's home. I've never met them personally and merely knew them
from social media, as they were seasoned cycle tourers. Not simply did they
have a beautiful home, but they were the most likeable people imaginable. We
chatted forever, and I was easily convinced to stay an additional day.
Patrick was born and raised in The Netherlands, and
as Holland was playing in the semi-finals of the World Cup Soccer, we visited
the pub to watch the game. Regrettably, Holland lost but still, we all had a
great time.
10-13 July - Rafting
I was further invited to join Rachel and Patrick on
a river rafting trip down the Wallowa and Grande Ronde Rivers. This was an
amazing opportunity which I grabbed with both hands. The drive to the start,
and where we camped, was a long one. The following morning, we packed the rafts
with everything needed and took to the water. I joined Bobby (and his dog,
Trixi), Gordy was on his own, Rachel and Patrick were in one boat, and Bob, Ivy
and Eve (and Bob's dog) in another boat. They were all charming people and we'd
a total blast on the river.
The weather played along, and as the weather was in
the high 90s, the river was the best place. Bob and Bobby fished from time to
time and whatever was caught went straight back into the river.
We camped along the riverbank in the evening, and I
was impressed by their conservation efforts as not a single scrap of anything
was left behind at the places camped. They were incredibly well-organised, and
one could tell this wasn't their first time on the river - even the dogs had
lifejackets.
The time passed far too quickly, and too soon the
time came to load the boats and return to the city.
14 July - Boise
I'd all intentions of using my day in Boise
productively and doing something useful, like washing the sleeping bag.
Instead, the day was spent playing with the camera in Rachel and Patrick's lush
garden and enjoying the novelty of being in a real home. By evening, Sarah
(another cyclist) arrived. We’d supper together, after which I packed my bags
and got ready to resume my quest anew.
15 July - Boise – Glenn's Ferry - 125 km
In the morning I thanked Rachel and Patrick, and
had all intentions of turning off at Mountain Home onto Route 20. Still, the
wind picked up, and I soon found myself grinding into a headwind. There and
then, I made a U-turn and continued along Route 84.
The area was highly desolate and had very little of
interest. However, a strong tailwind blew me into Glenn's Ferry early. At the
Three Islands SP, the camping fee was astronomical (as Patrick warned) and best
to look elsewhere.
Glenn's Ferry turned out a fascinating place. Back
in the day the area was one of the most famous and treacherous river crossings
on the Oregon Trail. Not only was Glenn’s Ferry steeped in history, but it
turned out the home of Equine Dentistry. You learn something new every day!
16 July - Glenn's Ferry – Truckstop - 109 km
This was the first day since departing Seattle I
encountered a headwind. Unfortunately, my hopes of it changing never
materialised, and the wind direction stayed east-north-east all day. As a
result, the going was relatively slow. Petrol stations made convenient
distractions to break the monotony and fill the water bottle.
Not a significant amount happened, except riding
through the Snake River Gorge which stretched almost 50 kilometres and was
highly picturesque. The gorge was further known for an unsuccessful attempt by
Evel Knievel to jump across using a contraption called a Skycycle rocket! The
things people do!
17 July - Truck Stop – American Falls - 135 km
Powered by a tailwind, I flew past farmlands and
windfarms, indicating the area a notoriously windy one. Finally, route 84
(which I’d been following some time) turned south, and I veered north along Route
86, in the direction of both Canada and Yellowstone National Park. Overnighting
was at the small settlement of American Falls, so named after a party of
trappers whose boat went over the falls. Poor things.
18 July - American Falls – Idaho Falls - 130 km
Not merely did the day turn out one of comfortable
riding, but I’d the benefit of a tailwind. From Pocatello, the road headed
north through the Indian reservation of Fort Hall and past Blackfoot, which
didn't have a great deal going apart from a potato museum. You know there's not
much happening in a place that boasts a potato museum.
Dave's Bike Shop, in Idaho Falls, changed the inner
tube and discovered what was causing the slow puncture. Not simply did they
change the tube but did so free of charge.
I then searched for an inexpensive room, which
turned out more difficult than expected. The one located was far out of town,
and once the panniers were off-loaded, it took biking into the village on the
hunt to find food.
19 July - Idaho falls – Warm Waters campsite - 110
km
So monotonous was the ride, one could listen to
stories downloaded on the iPod; a novel manner in which to cycle but something
one can only do in the absence of traffic. The path east ran past vast fields
of seed potatoes and even more extensive wheat areas and, in the process, I met
a French family pedalling around Idaho. Sadly, their holiday was soon coming to
an end, and they planned on hiring a car to tour Yellowstone National Park.
Arriving at Warm Waters campsite early made basking
in the sun the rest of the day. Warm Waters was a popular site and campers were
floating on inner tubes downstream, only to run back to repeat the process. The
camp had a great location next to the river providing plenty of trees. There
were, surprisingly, no showers but I guessed that’s what the river was for.
Montana
20–21 July - Warm Rivers Campsite – Western Yellowstone – 95 km
By crossing the continental divide, one entered the
state of Montana, and it's understood the name was derived from the Spanish
word 'Montaña' (mountain). I, therefore, guessed the ride would include a few
hills. Montana ranks fourth in size but only 48th in population
density out of the 50 states in the US. Even more unique is that the western
third of Montana contains 77 named mountain ranges, forming part of the Rocky
Mountains. I sincerely hoped not all 77 were on my path.
West Yellowstone had a campsite as well as a
supermarket, and the following day was spent at camp doing routine rest day
chores. The best part of the day was spent lazing about; good thing too, as a
storm passed through, complete with an impressive display of thunder, lightning
and hail.
Wyoming
22 July - West Yellowstone – Norris campsite - 52 km
I'd a slow start as the day was meant to discover
new things and not do distance, and I was bursting with excitement to
investigate this unique region. At the entrance of Yellowstone Park, the entry
was a meagre $12 (valid for an entire seven days). Soon the road crossed into
the state of Wyoming as a significant part of the park is situated in Wyoming.
The day was fantastic, and the vistas surpassed all expectations. Yellowstone
is truly one of a kind, a place where the earth bubbles, splatters and steams.
Geysers erupted in front of my eyes; truly one of the most surreal places I’ve
visited.
Camping was at Norris where a British family
travelling the area told me an online visa application to Canada takes two
months. I then had little hope of getting the visa in time to allow biking in
Canada.
23 July - Norris Campsite – Gardiner - 42 km
The ride was short but fascinating and included
many stops at extraordinary sights. That night, camping was at Gardiner to
rethink the route, as the wind picked up, and the forecast was for 35 m/h winds
in an easterly direction. The idea of exploring Glacier National Park went out
of the window as I’d no intention of battling into such a wind.
Montana (2)
24 July - Gardiner – Big Timber - 152 km
The weather forecast turned out spot-on, and the
wind grew stronger as the day progressed. With a near gale force wind in my
back, cycling was like low flying, reaching speeds of almost 60 km/h - scary
stuff. From Gardiner, my path headed north in the direction of Livingston from
where it veered east.
Amazingly, once in Livingston, the wind direction
changed and remained a tailwind. Arriving in Big Timber was thus in good time,
and the lack of camping made me opt for a Motel.
I decided to stay, follow the wind and go wherever
it blew me. An additional email was sent to the Canadian visa office, inquiring
exactly how long the visa would take and how one would receive it. In the
meantime, the plan was to head further east while staying close to the border
in case the visa came through.
25 July - Big Timber – Laurel - 112 km
The route followed the Yellowstone River and I understood
it the US's longest undammed river. Unfortunately, the wind wasn't as strong as
the day before, and my legs felt tired following the previous day's long cycle.
On reaching Laurel, I called it a day but guessed
one could easily have carried on towards Billings (a further 22 miles). But, as
they say in South Africa, I didn't want to pull the ass out of the chicken.
After a good look at the map, a decision was made
to head in the direction of Mount Rushmore National Park as I’d given up hope
of ever getting the Canadian visa. There was not a single word from them, not
even a "Thanks for your payment", just a pathetic automated email
stating they had received the application and would contact me in due time.
26–27 July - Laurel – Hardin - 105 km & 52 km
The room was cheap, likely due to its location next
to the railway line. Still, it was a good deal as the price included a
complimentary buffet breakfast. My neighbours complained about the noise from
the trains, but I never heard anything.
The way to Billings veered slightly southeast in
the direction of Mount Rushmore and was dreadfully monotonous; hot, dry and
rather lonely sporting views of endless wheat fields. The single slight bit of
excitement was a flat tyre from tyre debris.
The first settlement came upon was Hardin, where a
campsite and a few places to eat had my name on them. So, after obtaining the
usual evening beer and crisps, it was time to set up camp.
The following morning, after biking nearly an hour,
I realised I’d left my solar charger and phone behind and had little choice but
to return to camp. Upon my return, I found the owners frantically phoning
around to locate me. The Americans were such helpful people. Being already
late, I considered it best to stay one more night and was promptly invited to a
BBQ.
28–29 July - Hardin – Ranchester – 120 km
The going was slow as the ride was slightly uphill
and into a mild breeze. However, the scenery remained unchanged as I cycled
past familiar scenes of vast areas of wheat fields. The interesting part was
harvesting wasn't done by the farmers but by harvesters. I further learned the
harvesters working in this area employed no less than six South African youngsters
to drive the harvesters.
Shortly before Ranchester, the road crossed into
the state of Wyoming. Tiny Ranchester wasn't far, but the ride took practically
the entire day. I crawled into camp dead tired—one of those days.
It rained all night, and as it was still raining upon
emerging, I didn't go anywhere. The weather later cleared, allowing a walk in
the river's direction and onto the old Connor battlefield. It's immensely sad
when an entire tribe is wiped out; it’s final and can never be undone no matter
how much money you throw at the problem.
Tiny Ranchester had no shop, except a small store
at the gas station. Still, the settlement had a gunsmith, a taxidermist, and no
less than two churches. Unfortunately, the village was further home to the
Cowboy State Bank and I wasn't sure if I would put my hard-earned money in a
Cowboy Bank. During my walkabout around the village, I'd two people praying for
my soul. I must’ve seemed an absolute wreck.
Wyoming (2)
30 July - Ranchester – Buffalo - 95 km
Feeling miles more energetic, my route followed the
old Black Diamond Trail, referring to yesteryear's coal mining industry.
Although the peak mining years were long gone, some mining was still done in
the area.
The road climbed slowly along the foothills of the Bighorn
Mountains to Buffalo. Once there, it took pedalling around to locate a camping
spot. There were no less than two campgrounds, but both were relatively
expensive and, in the end, I settled for Indian Campground which gave a small
discount. Then, off to the shops for my nightly rations.
31 July - Buffalo – Gillette - 115 km
The weather forecast predicted a headwind, but the
breeze turned out not too severe, and around midday it changed in my favour.
Unfortunately, the stretch between Buffalo and Gillette was extremely barren,
without a hamlet or farm. Thank goodness for a rest area where one could fill
the water bottle before continuing to Gillette.
Here I met a family (mom, dad and two kids) who
enquired regarding my comings and goings. They were clearly a conservative
family and dad the boss, as he did most of the talking while his wife remained
one step behind, and the kids one step behind her. One of the first questions
asked was "What's your religion?" On answering, "I'm an
atheist", the family, in shock and horror, together took one step back.
The only thing the man didn't do was spread his arms in a protective gesture to
seal his family from this evil force. Afterwards, I was sorry for my reply as
it instantly alienated me, and killed a conversation that could’ve been
interesting. At times, it's better to go with the flow.
1 August - Gillette – Upton - 89 km
My late departure was not merely due to chatting to
other campers but mainly due to predictions the wind would change in an
easterly direction at around 10 am. I'd an Egg McMuffin and coffee at
McDonald's, and by the time all was finished, the wind indeed swung east.
The ride to Moorcroft was a pleasurable one where I
threw a left onto Route 16. Before leaving town I first stopped at the tiny
West Texas Trail Museum to investigate and then continued in Upton's direction.
Clouds gathered, and with a distant rumbling, I rode
as fast as my legs could manage. A sign stated: "Upton, the best town on
Earth." The statement might’ve been a tad of an exaggeration as Upton's
population was a mere 1,000, and even that number was most likely for the
"greater" Upton area.
With a massive storm rolling in, I pedalled like
the clappers. Mercifully, I slinked into Upton, which sported the Weston Inn
Motel, just as the heavens opened. The owner offered me a room at half-price,
making it the same price as camping. He further allowed me to use the washing
machine—what a kind man. (Or was it perhaps due to the smell?)
2 August - Upton – Custer - 103 km
The following morning the sky was clear, and Route
16 continued past oil fields, apparently the oldest in the area. The oil must
be exceptionally shallow as the drills were half-sized. My path continued in
the direction of Mount Rushmore and once past Newcastle, it swung east towards
the Black Hills. Not simply was the ride hilly and into a gusty breeze, but a
swarm of horse flies descended on me and, being uphill, I was unable to out
cycle them. Ouch, ouch, ouch!
The KOA campsite outside of Custer, appeared a good
enough place but I was utterly shocked at the price—$42 to camp. The Sturgis
Bike Rally was on and all campsites full; no wonder the few remaining ones came
at a premium. Even sadder was to find they only sold beer in 24 packs. At least
the shower was good but what a price to pay to have a shower. I was tired and
in no mood to talk to anyone. (As if their fault the camp was expensive, and
beer sold in 24 packs.)
South Dakota
3 August - Custer (1620m)– Rapid City (976m) - 87 km
The first stop that day was at the immensely
impressive Crazy Horse Memorial. The memorial consists of a mountain carving of
Crazy Horse (an Oglala Lakota warrior).
The monument is under construction and carved out
of Thunderhead Mountain; land considered sacred by Oglala Lakota. The sculpture's
final dimensions are planned at 641 feet (195 m) wide and 563 feet (172 m)
high. The head of Crazy Horse will be 87 feet (27 m) high; by comparison, the
heads of the four US Presidents at Mount Rushmore are only 60 feet (18 m) high.
The monument has been in progress since 1948 and won't be completed in our
lifetime or the next generation's lifetime.
Then off to Mount Rushmore to see the colossal
statues of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt. These world-famous
statues were unimpressive after seeing Crazy Horse but, then again, the Crazy
Horse Memorial will make anything look unimpressive. While there I understood
the sadness in the below article by National Geographic.
South Dakota’s Mount Rushmore has a strange, scandalous
history (nationalgeographic.com)
The Sturgis Bike Rally held consisted of 500,000,
that's right, 500,000 bikers. The roads were crowded with motorbikes, and all
campsites and motels in the area were filled to the brim. Both the bikes and
bikers came in all shapes and sizes. The riders were both male and female, all
seemingly tattooed from head to toe, and a few of those mammas were big; they
made a Harley look like a scooter. The reason for their size soon became
apparent as one often saw them sitting, a giant ice cream cone in one hand and
an equally large Coke in the other. And there I thought I was the queen of
unhealthy eating.
4 August - Rapid City - Wall - 89 km
Following a quick bite at McDonald's, my path
followed Route 90 in an easterly direction. The road stretched dead straight
into a hazy infinity; unfortunately, the wind came up, and it became an
unpleasant battle into the wind. Finally, at the tiny, but fascinating,
settlement of Wall, I called it quits and pulled in as the campsite was just
$10 and considered cheap at the time.
Wall wasn't only situated opposite the Badlands
National Park entrance but home to Wall Drug, a famous roadside stop and shop.
Wall Drug started as a drug store and grew into what it is today. In addition,
Wall is home to a funky Harley Davidson shop and campground. This tiny
community was bustling with bikers en route to Sturgis. I’d an immense desire
to pop a wheelie on cycling into camp, the thought of which gave me the giggles
as I could just imagine such a sight, panniers flying and all!
5 August - Wall
The plan was to bike through the Badlands National
Park, but the wind was howling. In the miserable weather, I stayed put. The
bikers all left for the rally but returned later as Wall must’ve been the
cheapest campsite in the area.
6 August - Wall – 1880 Town - 105 km
By morning there was no change in the weather.
Still, there wasn’t a considerable amount one could do but pack up and face the
elements. I departed Wall in a drizzle, a drizzle which continued, on and off
all day. Little of interest was happening, and the only entertainment was
taking selfies – I’ve to be extremely bored to do such a thing!
Towards the end of the day, another cyclist came
into view. He was on a mission to cycle all 50 states, which sounded pretty
monotonous, going around and around in the same country. But, then again, this
was the nice part about bicycle touring – we all did our own thing, in our own
time and manner. We chatted a while, before continuing to the next town. I
finished the day’s ride in a tiny town named 1880 Town. Its single claim to
fame was that the area was one of the film locations for Dances with Wolves.
7 August - 1880 Town – Kennebec - 105 km
With no change of scenery, the tarmac stretched
miles and miles through farmlands known as the Great Plains. These plains were
once home to large herds of American bison until hunted to near extinction
during the mid/late-19th century.
Although I could imagine those great animals
roaming the plains, the day nevertheless became a long and monotonous one to
Kennebec. The entire way remained busy with motorbikes to and from the Sturgis
Rally.
Mercifully, the old highway ran parallel to the
interstate and made effortless pedalling away from the traffic. Eventually, I
came upon a frigging expensive campsite at Kennebec, and I could just as well
have taken a room.
8 August - Kennebec – Chamberlain - 55 km
As there was no change in the weather or views and
lacking the energy to deal with the boredom, I called it a day once across the
Missouri River. The campsite was a pleasant one on the Missouri River banks,
but I first proceeded to the shop. Campers were always chatty and primarily
curious about where you came from and where you were going. Feeling tired, I
retreated to my tent early as the weather came in and started drizzling.
Being snug, an additional day was spent in tiny
Chamberlain. Unfortunately, Chamberlain didn’t offer a great deal in the
excitement line. There was nothing to do but relax, eat, and cycle up the lone
hill to take a few river pics. Most remarkable was that this small community of
barely 2,000 residents boasted a South Dakota Hall of Fame.
10 August - Chamberlain – Mitchell - 117 km
Feeling energised, I crossed the last of the Great
Plains. These plains are an enormous expanse of steppes and in places nearly as
lonely as frontier days. The area referred to as the Great Plains stretches
practically 800 kilometres east to west and 3,200 kilometres north to south,
and it felt I’d cycled the entire distance.
Nothing significantly happened except meeting the
priest who treated me to coffee. There couldn't have been much for him to do in
such a small place, which was rather conservative judging by the signboards.
These advertising boards were a contradiction in
themselves as side by side they stood, one pro-war and the other anti-abortion.
I failed to see how one could justify killing grown men. Still, God forbid one
should choose to have an abortion, and guessed this insinuated it was all right
to kill people from different races, cultures, and countries.
I made my way to Mitchell, a fair-sized village
sporting a population of almost 15,000 and no less than three campgrounds and
20 churches; I kid you not!
11 August - Mitchell – Sioux Falls - 115 km
Coffee was in the company of one of the other
campers. I chatted for ages to two bikers travelling around the USA. Biking
through Mitchell turned out quite interesting. The town was, fittingly, home to
a Corn Palace, a magnificent multipurpose building where the murals were made
of cob.
Stalls sold all kinds of corn-related items,
including racks and racks of T-shirts and other trinkets. Following a bite to
eat, the time was past 11h00 before pedalling out of Mitchell.
A minor route took me past the small and
fascinating towns of Alexandria, Emery and Bridgewater. These towns were
lovely, and looked like part of a movie set, to such an extent, I was surprised
to find ordinary people living there.
Minnesota
12 August - Sioux Falls, South Dakota – Luverne, Minnesota - 60 km
Parks and a bike path surrounded Sioux Falls and
stopping at the falls came naturally. After a few pics and a walk to the old
mill ruins, I continued to Luverne.
What a delightfully odd country this was. Minnesota
is located in the Midwest, which wasn't even close to the "Midwest",
no matter how I turned the map, it remained more North/North East. A place
where a pie refers to something sweet and dessert-like, instead of the savoury,
meaty main meal I'm accustomed to. A place where a scone is a biscuit, and not
eaten with jam and cream but with egg and bacon or gravy. I love travelling.
Almost halfway to Luverne my route crossed into
Minnesota. Feeling lazy, I succumbed to temptation and got myself a room in
Luverne. I needed the internet and spent the rest of the day doing internet
stuff.
13 August - Luverne – Jackson - 113 km
The day dawned bright and sunny revealing barely
any wind, and the sky a brilliant blue. The temperature was perfect as Route 90
beat a dead straight path across the Midwest, passing tiny hamlets featuring
populations of a mere 200. Yet, all seemed well in the Midwest, the corn stood
high, cattle were fat, and soybeans appeared ready to be harvested.
I also discovered an hour was gained somewhere
along the line - quite where and when that happened remained a mystery.
14 August - Jackson – Blue Earth - 84 km
I woke to a beautiful sunrise, packed my tent, had
a cup of coffee, and ventured further east. Route 90 led past more cornfields,
soybeans, pig farms and small villages.
Not much was happening except to watch dare-devil
crop-sprayers at work. With the strong smell of pesticide in the air, I only
snapped a few pics and then moved upwind to watch a few more minutes.
On slinking into the tiny settlement of Blue Earth,
I jumped at the opportunity of a room, even if not entirely necessary. The next
town was a further 40 miles away, making an awfully long day. Blue Earth was
referred to as a city, but with a population of barely 3,000, the place was no
more than a hamlet. The extraordinary thing was the village boasted a gigantic
17-metre-tall "Jolly Green Giant", a human pea statue, promoting the
Minnesota Valley Canning Company. I'm not making this up!
15 August - Blue Earth – Albert Lea - 75 km
It became one of those days that dragged on
forever, with little of interest. Saying that, each day, something happened. On
this day, a farmer stopped and gave me $5, instructing me to have a cup of
coffee. How sweet of him and I did precisely that.
There’s no point in cycling if it’s not enjoyable,
and a campsite on the outskirts of Albert Lea signalled the end of my day’s
ride. Surrounded by six lakes, Albert Lea was pretty but had a diminishing
population. Not merely wasn't there anything happening but I believe the
temperature ranged between 41°C in summer to minus 15°C in winter. Fortunately,
I was there, slap-bang, between these two extremes.
16 August - Albert Lea – Preston - 115 km
The following day my energy levels returned, and
the ride turned into an enjoyable day of cycle touring. The weather was
perfect, with scarcely any wind to speak of. A dirt track took me through
farmlands and left me highly impressed by the farming activities; which were
neat and well-organised. The homesteads all looked well-maintained and the
fields immaculate and well-tended.
Minnesota is a relatively "roomy" state
and I hardly saw anyone, except a few small communities. In Preston, one could
camp at the fairground at a reasonable price (sometimes even free).
Following the usual shopping, the tent was pitched.
I barely ever cooked in the US as food was always conveniently available.
Wisconsin
17 August - Preston – La Crosse - 106 km
I waited the next morning, but no one came to
collect the camping fee. Then, to my surprise and delight, I discovered a cycle
path that took me from Preston to Houston. The trail made a picturesque ride
along the Root River and ran through the quaintest of villages and I was happy
with the change of vistas.
Along the path I met Alex and Jill, a lovely
couple, out for the weekend with their two-year-old son, Lennon. They biked
from La Crosse to Lanesboro, camped there and were on their way home when I met
them. They invited me to camp in their garden, which became a sociable evening.
Jill made a delicious supper, and we drank a few beers. They also allowed me to
use their laundry and I’d a decent scrubbing in their shower. All hugely
appreciated.
18 August - La Crosse – Norwalk - 70 km
All good things come to an end, and following
breakfast, and with loads of information, I left Alex and Jill's home. After
visiting the outdoor store and computer shop, the time was virtually midday
before riding out of La Crosse.
Shortly outside La Crosse I came upon a bicycle
path to Reedsburg. The trail was interesting as, for the most part, it followed
an old railway line, by then converted into a bike path. Building the railway
line through the Wisconsin hills must’ve been quite tricky. Low lying areas
were filled in, and tunnels were dug through the mountains, making the ride an
excellent even 3-degree grade.
The extraordinary thing was the tunnels were
freezing inside. To such an extent condensation flowed out the tunnels
resembling smoke. The tunnels were scary and spooky as they were long and pitch
dark (without being able to see the light at the other end). Water dripped down
from the ceiling and bats skirted around my head, and I was relieved to clear
the dark tunnel.
Norwalk's tiny settlement appeared shortly beyond
the tunnel, which had free camping in the village park.
Lightning and thunder made me take cover, and I
pitched the tent under a covered area. Following a shower and feeling like
something sweet, I walked to a shop selling milkshakes. Unfortunately, Lisa was
closing as I got there. So instead, she invited me for a beer at the pub, which
turned out a fascinating and enjoyable evening.
19 - 21 August - Norwalk – Reedsburg - 73 km
The following day the tunnels were not as long and
scary. Nevertheless, the enormous doors to these tunnel entrances were
intriguing. I read they were to seal in warmer temperatures during cold weather
(and of cause keep the snow out). Back in the day, tunnel watchmen were hired
to open and close the doors as trains approached.
An effortless and relaxing ride led in the
direction of Reedsburg which had a computer shop and accommodation,
unfortunately the computer shop was already closed.
The following day, I took the laptop to see if they
could sort out Skype which stopped working. While they worked on the computer,
I handed in my sleeping bag at the laundry (a long overdue job). It wasn't the
washing, but the drying that took forever.
The next morning, rain came gushing down and, as it
was still raining by midday, I decided to stay and relax in front of the TV.
22 August - Reedsburg – De Forest - 80 km
The weather cleared allowing a visit to Reedsburg
Pioneer Village. The Pioneer Log Village was a representation of early
Reedsburg. The project consisted of nine original log cabins, some having been
moved intact from surrounding areas and others rebuilt from original logs.
Three pioneer homes, an 1873 one-room school, an 1873 log church, a general
store and post office, a library, and a blacksmith shop, made up the village.
Unfortunately, the buildings were closed due to the heat. Or, at least, that
was what they said. The temperature was only 25áµ’C but incredibly humid.
My next stop was at beautiful Devil's Lake. Not
simply did the area consist of a beautiful lake but was also home to stunning
rock outcrops. I read that the area formed part of the Baraboo Range, which
scientists believe was created 1.6 billion years ago.
Even more interesting was that I kept crossing the
"Ice Age Trail," a thousand-mile footpath, entirely within Wisconsin.
It was said more than 12,000 years ago an immense flow of glacial ice formed
the landscape here, and it made me instantly want to hike the trail.
Fortunately, I refrained from doing any such thing as hiking would require a
completely different set of equipment.
Route 113 arrived at the Merrimac Ferry which
crosses Lake Wisconsin. The ferry was more a barge than a ferry as it was
pulled across the lake by cables. I guessed the barge was due to the shallowness
of the lake as I read it has a maximum depth of 7.3m.
Once on the opposite side, I resumed my ride past
Lodi and Dane. Shortly past Dane, a kind man stopped and offered to take my
panniers to my next destination; how very nice of him.
The weather was incredibly humid as I pitched the
tent at DeForest. Unfortunately, I soon had to retreat into the tent to avoid
being devoured by the many eager mosquitos. Although hot, it was fun lying in
the tent watching fireflies darting around.
So hot, humid and tropical was the weather, I could
for the life of me not imagine winter in Wisconsin as I understood the average
temperature for December, January and February was a mere 5°F.
23 August - De Forest – Waukesha - 135 km
Packing up was at a leisurely pace after which
minor paths led past houses displaying home-grown products for sale, which
looked rather lovely.
The rest of the day was a relaxing and fascinating
day of biking, along a bicycle path that led to Waukesha.
24 August – Waukesha, Wisconsin – Muskegon, Michigan
- 22 km (Ferry)
A short ride, partly on a bike path, took me to the
ferry terminal in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. En route to the ferry, I met Bob,
another cyclist, who accompanied me to the ferry terminal. I was just in time
to board the ferry across Lake Michigan, which came at a hefty $100 fee.
However, the ferry was amazingly comfortable and fast. Two hours later, I was
relieved to moor at the pier in Muskegon, Michigan. My relief was due to the
countless accounts of mighty strange sightings and disappearances in and around
Lake Michigan. I overnighted in Muskegon but sadly never witnessed any UFOs or bright lights in the sky.
Michigan
25 August - Muskegon – Holland - 50 km
From Muskegon a short 50-kilometre ride took me to
Holland and although it rained nearly all day, the weather cleared towards the
end of the ride. Nevertheless, Holland sported a motel that provided a fast
enough internet connection to reload the Garmin map which went on the blink.
The town of Holland came as a surprise as the town
indeed resembled a tiny Holland, sporting windmills and wooden shoes. Shops
were even selling apple strudel.
26 August - Holland – Covert - 78 km
The rain-soaked ride to Covert, was somewhat
miserable. Fortunately, the weather wasn't cold but thunder and lightning made
me take cover at a shop. Shortly afterwards, I finished the day’s ride on
spotting a campsite in Covert, where I crawled in sopping wet.
27 August - Covert – Vicksburg - 80 km
So well did I sleep, the time was already past 8h00
before emerging from the tent. Coffee was from a store in camp and 10h30 before
biking out of Covert in Vicksburg's direction.
The time came to cut across the state of Michigan
towards Lake Erie. Unfortunately, no clear path headed across the state and the
day was spent zig-zagging through farmlands on country roads. At one of these
settlements, I met Sharon Wimple, running for state representative. On wishing
her well in the elections, she put a few dollars in my hand and told me to have
a meal. As this was the second time I was given money to buy food, I thought I
must look somewhat scrawny.
Vicksburg had a campground on the outskirts of
town, but the sites were costly. Fortunately, a welcoming chap invited me to
share his stand; later, a friend of his also pulled in. They made a fire, and
we sat around having a few beers. My hosts proceeded to get completely pissed,
and I quietly slinked off to the tent. While lying there, I could hear them
chatting away, getting increasingly drunk as the hours went by. Finally, I fell
asleep but woke in the middle of the night with one of them sitting outside the
tent telling me how much he loved me, suggesting he lay down next to me. I
unzipped the tent and angrily shouted, "Fuck off!" It was uttered
with such gusto you’ve never seen a drunken man scurry that fast.
28 August - Vicksburg – Jonesville - 93 km
The way to Jonesville was one more day spent
zig-zagging through farmlands. Biking through the villages was preferable as
they were pretty interesting but the streets running through these settlements
were surprisingly narrow and busy.
On arrival in Jonesville, a reasonably priced motel
lured me in. It made updating photos and journal entries easy while watching
TV.
Ohio
29 August – Jonesville, Ohio – Twin Acres Campground, Swanton, Ohio - 115 km
Not a significant amount happened, and I was happy
to come across a trail through the forest which provided a change of scenery.
However, as soon as the path crossed the border into Ohio, I was back amidst
cornfields and the traditional red barns. The day dragged on a tad but finally,
the route spat me out in Swanton, exactly where I wanted to be and where food
was bought from the small supermarket before pedalling to the campsite. Being
Labour Day weekend, the camp was chock-a-block; fortunately, there remained
space for a small tent.
30 - 31 August - Swanton – Stony Ride - 33 km
I didn't feel like cycling but was stuck on the
camp's outskirts, without electricity or Wi-Fi, and therefore packed up and rode
the short distance to Stony Ride.
Being Labour Day weekend, everything was
chock-a-block full (and nearly double the regular price). I decided to lie low
and wait for the holidays to pass before venturing further east.
Times like these allow hauling out the macro lens.
What I like about this lens (Canon Macro 100 mm 1:2.8 L) is when the focus is
spot on, one can zoom in and crop to your heart's content without losing
detail.
1 - 2 September - Stony Ride – Norwalk - 92 km
A cycle path followed the old original railroad
between New York and Chicago, which led past the interesting communities of
Elmore, Lindsey, Fremont, Clyde and Bellevue and, finally, Norwalk. Two nights
were spent in Norwalk as the weather report predicted heavy storms. Nothing,
however, came of the predicted bad weather except a drizzle.
3 September - Norwalk – Motel 6, Middleburg Heights
- 77 km
The following day dawned bright and sunny, but it
felt like each dog in the district wanted a piece of me that day, especially
the little ones. Soon, the road brought me to Cleveland's outskirts and not
feeling like staying in the city, I took a room at a Motel 6.
4 September - Motel 6 – Geneva State Park - 95 km
The ride through Cleveland was fascinating, and on
riding into the city centre, the route passed underneath the Hope Memorial
Bridge with its "Guardians of Traffic". Each of the eight guardians
carved on the bridge pylons holds a different vehicle. Collectively they
represent the history of ground transport — from a stagecoach, covered wagon
and hay rack, to a 1930s-era automobile and four types of trucks. In the
process, one also had an excellent view of the city.
The Lakeshore path was in poor condition except for
the stretch through the well-off areas. Soon the trail reached the city's
outskirts and followed the shores of Lake Erie. That night camping was at
Geneva State Park right on the lake.
Pennsylvania
5 September - Geneva State Park – Erie - 95 km
The weather was stunning as I set off along Lake
Erie and no sooner the road crossed the border into the state of Pennsylvania,
founded in 1681 as a Quaker Community.
The day’s ride finished in Erie where camping was
on the water. It was a convenient spot, but a storm came in during the night,
and I feared the tent wouldn’t be able to withstand the high wind. There was
nothing to do but crawl out in bucketing rain, peg in the guy ropes as best I could,
and sopping wet crawl back in. Fortunately, the storm passed quickly, and
although it rained throughout the night, the high winds subsided. Phew!
6 September - Erie – Dunkirk - 87 km
By morning the weather cleared, and it became a
beautiful day out on the bike. Not wanting to cycle to the falls in a day I decided
to make the ride two short days. A leisurely ride ran through vineyards to
Dunkirk and midway. During the day the road left Pennsylvania and crossed into
the state of New York.
New York
7 - 10 September - Dunkirk – Buffalo - 87 km
Being early September, the weather was great and
the sky a bright blue with no wind to speak of. A good deal of the day was
spent talking to people met along the way.
In the process, the way passed a massive wooden
statue of a Native American. It’s said (sadly) merely around 1% of the county’s
population was native. Even less than Asians, Chinese, and Filipinos, not to
mention Europeans.
On the outskirts of Buffalo was a very
professional-looking bicycle shop and, as my bike needed a service, I found a
room nearby.
The next day, and being a Monday, the bike shop was
closed. In the meantime, I succumbed to temptation. I ordered a Canon EF
24-105mm f/4L IS USM lens, which I’ve been eyeing a long time and couldn’t
leave Buffalo until my order arrived.
The following morning, I returned to the shop where
I left my sad-looking bicycle in their capable hands. My assumption that the
bike would take a day or two was clearly incorrect. Waiting for the cycle was
no big deal as seeing I'd to wait for the lens, I could as well do the whole
lot in one fell swoop.
11 - 14 September - Buffalo – Niagara Falls - 50 km
With the bike serviced and the camera's new lens, I
pedalled along the river to Niagara Falls. My efforts were well rewarded as the
bike ran smoothly and the new lens was a treat. As a person got closer to the
falls, the river started flowing faster, and one could see "smoke"
rising in the distance, adding to my excitement. Surprisingly, the area wasn't
a typical "waterfall type" terrain as the landscape was pan flat and
lacked mountains or high cliffs. Then as if the earth opened, the water spilt
over the precipice to the river below. I couldn't wait to try the new lens and
almost immediately set out to the falls, where gazillion photos were taken.
15 September - Niagara Falls – Albion - 88 km
After three days I got onto the Erie Canal, which
runs across the state for 363 miles from the Hudson River in Albany to Lake
Erie. My bicycle was newly serviced and ran like new (albeit $550 later). My
new lens was on the camera, the sun was shining, and I’d the benefit of a slight
tailwind. Life was indeed good. On this day I discovered the Erie Canal and
overnighted in Albion who can thank the canal for its existence.
16 September - Albion – Newark - 117 km
The discovery of the Erie Canal Heritage Trail,
which followed the canal, made a lovely day of biking while meeting interesting
people and watching boats cruising along the channel. It looked genuinely pleasant
and made me want to do the same. Digging the canal, which opened in 1825,
must’ve been quite a feat in its day.
Towards the end of the day Newark, a typical canal
community, made convenient camping as the village provided amenities for the
many boaters.
17 September - Newark – De Witte - 105 km
The canal also had a fascinating history.
Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the lack of an efficient and safe
transportation network kept the population (and trade) primarily confined to
coastal areas. For many years, explorers searched for a waterway to the west.
Then, in 1807, Jesse Hawley, a prisoner in the Canandaigua Jail, wrote a series
of essays proposing a waterway from Lake Erie to the Atlantic Ocean. He
described the route, costs, and benefits of what would become the Erie Canal in
great detail.
Today, a pleasant road runs along the canal;
squirrels darted across the path, and grey herons waded in the shallows, all
while passing numerous old locks. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jessy Hawley
was ever financially compensated for these efforts.
18 September - De Witt – Rome - 60 km
Even though not in the mood for cycling, the ride
remained pleasant, offering beautiful views of the surrounding woods and the
canal. Rome was far more extensive and revealed a considerably longer history
than the other settlements along the canal. While investigating the area I
learned Rome was an ancient portage path until the Europeans arrived. This
ancient trade route joined the Great Lakes and Canada via the Mohawk River to
the Hudson River and the Atlantic Ocean. I then realised the Erie Canal wasn’t such
a new invention.
19 September - Rome – St Johnsville - 87 km
The trail passed many locks, some old and a few
still operating, and fascinating to watch boats being let through while
chatting with the operators.
In St. Johnsville, camping was possible at the
Marina - a lovely place on the canal. Although no more than a hamlet, St
Johnsville was settled in 1725 and a church was built in 1769 “for the benefit
of the Indians”. Again, I was baffled at how Europeans justified going to
another part of the world, killing the people, taking their land, and then
trying to convince them to take on those values.
20 September - St Johnsville – Schenectady - 87 km
A nearby Mcdonald’s made a leisurely breakfast
before continuing along the canal, sometimes flush next to it and sometimes
further away. The area was pleasant, and I ambled along until reaching
Schenectady, another city with a long but sad history.
21 September - Schenectady – Waterford - 40 km
A short ride led to the end of the Erie Canal Trail
where I’d difficulty deciding what to do next. I could follow the Hudson River
north to see the fall colours or head straight to Boston from where the plan
was flying out. Eventually, I wasn't sure the detour north would be worth the
effort and thus headed towards Boston.
22 September - Waterford – Pittsfield - 76 km
My route first swung by Troy, a remarkably
fascinating village situated at the confluence of the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers
(two major waterways), a location which made Troy the fourth wealthiest city in
America around the turn of the 20th century. To this day, Troy is graced by
beautiful Victorian architecture and a few elaborate private homes.
From Troy, the route headed east in the direction
of Boston. Feeling lethargic and picking up $20 made me opt for a room at the
Berkshire Inn.
Massachusetts
23 September - Pittsfield – Northampton - 70 km
I loaded up and pointed the bike in the direction
of Boston. However, I always felt sluggish at the end of a long ride as I
didn't quite want the ride over. Thus, I pulled into the Knight Inn, just off
the cycle path, to drag the ride out one more day.
24 September - Northampton – Worcester - 105 km
The ride to Worcester was slow as the road ran
slightly uphill. Still, it remained a beautiful ride as the fall colours started
showing themselves. Due to the many photo stops, Worcester was only reached
late afternoon.
25 - 30 September - Worcester – Boston - 70 km
My last day of cycling in the US arrived far too
soon, and a pleasant descent took me to Boston. I sped past tiny settlements
and trees in full autumn colours, down cycle paths, right into the heart of
Boston.
I was happy and sad to reach Boston. It marked the
end of my trip through the Americas, which started in Ushuaia, Argentina many
moons ago. Time to relax, put my feet up, and look for a flight to a different
part of the world. Hopefully, to a place featuring a slightly warmer climate.
A few days were spent in Boston, exploring that
lovely city and its numerous interesting sights and organising things for my
flight out. I meandered the city’s historic downtown featuring well-preserved
architecture where old buildings sit comfortably next to modern ones. I ambled
past pricy Victorian brownstone townhouses across the "Salt-and-Pepper
Bridge" and along the Charles River banks.
Rumours had it, one could get a bike box at the
airport, but following phoning two airlines at Boston airport, none had boxes
for sale. Eventually, Back Bay Cycles boxed the bicycle.
As always, the longer I stayed, the more
interesting the city became. Although Boston was beautiful, friendly and
culturally rich, the city was further far older than expected. Founded in 1630
by the English, it’s also the place where, between 1765 and 1783, citizens
revolted against the British. Fed up with the high taxes levied by Britain, the
Boston Tea Party was formed. I found this all remarkably fascinating.
Steve, the owner of the Everet Hostel, offered to
give me a ride to the shop to pick up the bicycle. He also suggested (can you
believe this?) getting up at four in the morning to take me to the airport for
my flight to Jamaica. I was immensely grateful for his generosity as it wasn’t
merely a hassle but also expensive to get myself and bike to the airport.
