Cycling across the U.S.A

Minnesota's steep hills

Day 30, July 20
Owatonna, MN, to Winona, MN
93 miles
Cumulative: 2024 miles

Today's ride demonstrated conclusively to everyone that there are steeper places to bike than the Rocky Mountains. One of them is Minnesota. Of course, the climbs are not as long, but they are definitely steeper. Toward the end of a long day, we descended 500 feet on fast winding roads into Whitewater State Park 25 miles east of Rochester, home of the famed Mayo Clinics. It was a wonderful run, several miles of fast coasting. The problem, of course, is that we then had to climb out of the park, several miles of slogging uphill.

Finally we reached Winona, a port on the mighty Mississippi River. A long line of trucks were waiting to dump grain. It is sent by conveyor across the highway into a waiting barge, soon to head downriver.

Tonight I have a special treat. I'm going to dinner with my Minnesota cousin Dick Bowden and his wife Carol and with Quentin Robley and his wife Glorie Ann. I did my first-ever week-long bike trip with Dick and Quent 11 years ago, CANDISC, Cycling Around North Dakota in Sakakawea Country. "We didn't know we were creating a monster," Dick says.

Escaping the Storm

Day 29, July 19
New Ulm, MN, to Owatonna, MN
95 miles
Cumulative: 1931

Dark storm clouds over St. Peter, Minn., as seen from Waldo's Coffee Company.

A storm warning from a Man in Blue

The view from Bill's bike

It was still early in the morning, and we entered St. Peter, MN, just 30 miles into the day's ride. We stopped at a little park near the center of the pretty town where the Adventure Cycling crew had established a rest and water stop. We no sooner had filled our water bottles when a Sergeant Jerry Yusta of the town police force rushed up to warn us that a severe thunderstorm was headed our way at 40 miles per hour and we should take cover immediately. He offered to shelter us up at police headquarters up the street. We opted instead for Waldo's Coffee Company two blocks away, which is something like Starbucks, only much better.

By the time we reached Waldo's the northern sky had turned blacker than any sky I'd ever seen before during the day. The street lights flickered on. The good folks at Waldos allowed us to park our bikes inside, and we reciprocated by hauling in all their outside furniture so it wouldn't be blown away. A coffee customer with a laptop showed us the radar display of the coming storm. It was huge and very impressive.

The storm hit the town like a hammer. Within 15 minutes the gutters outside the cozy coffee shop were overflowing. We were cool and dry, enjoying the best coffee of the trip. The pastries were also excellent. I bought two helpings of lefse, a Norwegian delicacy that I remember from my preschool days. A Norwegian neighbor lady made it, and I always showed up for a handout. It's a potato pancake made very thin, cooked on a griddle, sprinkled lightly with sugar, and rolled up.

Our colleagues elsewhere took shelter whereever they could. Jack Turner, a  fast rider who was ahead of the rest of us, found an open church. A kindly lady there made him a pot of coffee and served him cookies. Others ducked into farm machinery sheds with open doors. One group pulled up at a house where the owner was bringing in her bird feeder. They asked if they could stand under her tree. She said yes, then opened up her garage for their shelter.

After two hours of stuffing ourselves, the storm had passed and we continued on our way. The long ride included 20 miles of the Sakatah Singing Hills Trail. It's a paved path lined with dense brush and tall trees. It was delightful, like riding through a long green tunnel.

It was raining again when I reached Owatonna. But we didn't have to pitch our tents in the rain. We camped inside the building that yearly houses the county fair beer garden. In the middle of the night, there was another big, noisy storm, but were safe and dry.

New Ulm's Glockenspiel

Downtown New Ulm, Minnesota, where we spent a layover day today, is clean and neat as a pin. Unusually for a small midwestern town, the main street, actually Minnesota Street, is thriving. Near the downtown is a 45-foot-tall glockenspiel, similar to those found in Germany. At noon, the bells ring, a sliding door opens, and a group of mechanical people representing local history emerge and perform. I've included some short video clips to give you an idea of how it works.

A traditional German glockenspiel

Riding for the Birds

Amy Lauterbach, fellow rider and lover of all things feathered.

Every morning before dawn, one of our riders, Amy Lauterbach, slips out of camp and starts down the road as soon as it's safe to ride. The 47-year-old Californian is an ardent birder, and, she says, "the best time for birding is in the early morning. The birds do their dawn chorus." During the heat of the day, she says, they usually hunker down to bathe and preen.

As she pedals, she looks and listens. So far on this trip she's identified 106 different birds. Usually she can identify individual birds by sight from her bike, but sometimes she only hears a call. She couldn't see the Great Horned Owl one morning, for example, but she heard its unmistakeable loud hoots.

Amy's modest about her skill as a birder. Compared to the most devoted birders who keep precise life lists of birds they've spotted, "I'm way below average," she says, though she certainly seems like an expert to me. On this trip, she's added one new bird to her life list, a Sage Grouse. And for only the second time she's spotted an Upland Sandpiper. Most sandpipers live around water--you can see them running along ocean beaches--but the Upland Sandpiper is common to relatively arid areas like those we passed through in Montana and South Dakota.

When not birding, hiking, or biking, Amy became an expert in another field. For the past 11 years she helped develop Intuit's Quickbooks, the ubiquitous program used by millions of tiny businesses to keep track of their cash and customers. 

A little bit of Germany

Day 27, July 17
Tyler, MN, to New Ulm, MN
90 miles
Cumulative: 1836 miles

Today, in response to a request from Norm Kocol to move the ride off busy U.S. Highway 14, Adventure Cycling sent us slightly north along wonderful county roads with almost no traffic, past perfectly manicured farms growing corn and soybeans, in lovely weather. The temperature high was 84 degrees, absolutely normal for this time of year. Tonight, we could even see cool 50s, a relief after burning South Dakota.

The roads in much of the Midwest run along the borders of sections, mile-square blocks of land containing 640 acres. This meant that when we were going east, we were heading exactly 090 degrees on my GPS unit. When we turned north, for example, we were going exactly north, 360 degrees. From the air, you can see the sections distinctly, marked by the roads that separate them.

We're staying for a layover day in New Ulm, a city of 13,500 with a strong German heritage. It's named after Ulm, the principal city of the Province of Wittemberg, Germany. We're on the campus of Martin Luther College, a school with 800 students formed in 1995 by combining two older colleges. Its mission is to prepare prospective Lutheran pastors for advanced seminary training.

Tomorrow, we plan to make up for Tyler by visiting the historic Schell's Brewery. George Head has organized a special tour and tasting, and it appears that nearly everyone is planning to attend.

Welcome to Minnesota

Day 26, July 16
De Smet, SD, to Tyler, MN
78 miles
Cumulative: 1776

Minnesota, home to 10,000 lakes - and now 40 more bikers.

As we pedaled east today, we could see the terrain change: We were moving from the burning, arid west toward the cooler, wetter Midwest. There were more trees along the way, the farms became more lush, and we could feel a touch of humidity in the air. The temperature was more bearable, too. The Sioux Falls Argus Leader reported that South Dakota heat records going back 70 years were shattered yesterday. The mercury hit 117 in Pierre and 109 in Huron. Let's see, 70 years ago was 1936, the year I was born. We were living not far north of here in Lisbon, North Dakota. My mother told me--many times, I recall--that it was so hot that summer that she kept me, an infant of six months, in the cool basement of our little house during the day.

In Brookings, Robb Rasmussen opened his large, well-stocked Sioux River Bicycles and Fitness shop for us, even though it was Sunday morning. His adjacent Lodge Coffee Shop that features super-premium ice cream from the dairy department at South Dakota State University dished out free super-premium double-dip cones of the bicyclist's preferred road fuel. Delicious!

At the 62-mile point of our ride we crossed the border into Minnesota. The state provided a lovely roadside rest stop. We took pictures with the Welcome to Minnesota sign. Passing motorists, seeing our parked bikes, tooted a welcome.

A quick group check-in along the way.

Off in the distance, we could see a new agricultural crop: electricity. More than 300 giant wind turbines, each swinging three slow-turning blades nearly 80 feet long, stand 257 feet high along Buffalo Ridge. Farmers lease a small plot of land to the turbine owner. The tall towers don't have much effect on their farming operations, they say.

Video: Alternative energy sources

In Tyler, we stayed at the Danebod Folk School. Danish immigrants built the school and church in the 1880s. The school, devoted to Danish heritage, is still host to groups who come to sing folk songs and dance traditional steps. Many of us camped in the lecture hall which had a most welcome, untraditional, air conditioning system.

As the ride to Tyler was relatively short, many arrived in Tyler early in the afternoon. We looked forward to sampling a glass or two of Danish beer. Alas, Tyler is a dry town, and we had to settle for rhubard pie and more ice cream.

We're half way to Washington

Day 25, July 15
Miller, SD, to De Smet, SD
77 miles
Cumulative: 1697

Today as we passed through the center of Huron, SD, we completed half our adventure. Somehow it doesn't seem possible. Only yesterday we were ready to start; now we're already halfway home. Except for the brutal heat and wind of the last few days, and the tragic accident, it's been a great trip. We came together as strangers; now we're almost family.

Peter fixes a flat during a rest stop.

Since the weather forecast was for temperatures above 100 degrees and south winds of 20 to 30 miles per hour, most of us started about 5:30, before the sun was up. Breakfast was moved up to 5:15 so we could eat before we left. The early hours were relatively easy, except for a lack of shoulders and the big trucks with which we shared the single lane. Unlike Montana's truck drivers, the drivers here were as accommodating as they could be. Fortunately, we soon had a shoulder to ride on.

By mid-day, the heat was unrelenting, and the cross winds so strong they sometimes blew our bikes a couple of feet sideways. After lunch in Huron, where leader Ryan Kaplan provided ice cream for dessert, we pedaled from convenience store to convenience store where we cooled off and consumed great quantities of Gatorade before pushing off to the next stop. Local farmers were using the stores as well to dodge the heat. At one, there was a lively card game at a table in front of the cash register.

Tonight we are in De Smet, a pretty little town where Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of  Little House on the Prairie and related books of historical fiction, lived for many years. In town one of her stories is being presented as a pageant. Local people say that tourism is second only to agriculture as a pillar of the economy.

Earl reclines in his new "deluxe" chair during a rest stop.

Flying Eastward

Day 24, July 14
Pierre, SD, to Miller, SD
73 miles
Cumulative: 1621

This was a short, fast day. We headed east on U.S. 14 with a delightful tail wind. That meant that nearly everyone reached Miller, lovely little town with tree-shaded streets, shortly after noon. We camped in Miller High School, and we can sleep inside, if we wish, rather than setting up our tents. I chose to set up in the band room because the floor was carpeted and, mostly, because the room is nicely air conditioned.

It's still hot. The temperature at mid-afternoon is 99 degrees, and 106 is forecast for tomorrow. Unfortunately, the forecast also calls for south winds at 20 to 30 miles per hour--the same crosswind conditions that nearly defeated us earlier.

A Day Less Brutal

Day 23, July 13
Kadoka, SD, to Pierre, SD
95.5 miles
Cumulative 1548

After yesterday's grueling ride in what turned out to be record or near-record high temperatures, I took a look at the campground in Kadoka and headed for the yellow pages. The owner of the Dakota Inn motel offered to come get me and my stuff, an offer I couldn't refuse. While my colleagues sweated in their tents, were jarred by a hour-long thunderstom (which produced a lot of noise but little rain), and were awakened by a screaming siren calling out the volunteer fire department, I slept in blissful air conditioned comfort in a good bed for a solid eight hours. The night in the inn may have been the best $45 I've spent in a long time.

Refreshed by a good night's sleep, today's long ride wasn't so bad. The heat was still fierce, but, except for a 35-mile section with a strong cross wind, the wind was at our back. This made the long ride into the capital city much easier.

We're back in agricultural country, and the wheat harvest is in full swing. Giant combines are cutting the wheat, threshing it, and dumping the kernals in big wagons. Several of our hammerhead crowd enjoyed what they called their "South Dakota pace line." They jumped on behind a big self-propelled John Deere combine moving down the highway to the next field at 22 mph.

It's not tailgating, it's drafting – honest!

Our campground in Pierre was the best yet, a lovely, well-tended site on the east bank of the wide, swift-flowing Missouri River. We showered in a nearby motel and enjoyed the culinary delights of the small (popularion 14,000) city. Four of us chose an Italian restaurant, La Minestra, and were rewarded with food so innovative, well-prepared, and delicious that we figured the restaurant could survive in a major metro area as well as in South Dakota. The meal with wine was about half what we've have had to pay in Washington, we figured.

The majestic Missouri River seen from the campsite.

The Ballad of Phil Smith

As promised, here is a video of the Ballad of Phil Smith, about our colleague who was killed in a car accident in Washington State. Lyrics by Rachel Ginsberg, singing help by Norm Kocol, both riders. The song was perfomed at the Adventure Cycling 30th Anniversary picnic on our layover day in Missoula, MT.

The Ballad of Phil Smith