Blowing this popsicle stand

Hawkeye Point to Orange City, Iowa Tuesday-Wednesday , July 13-14, 2021

OK, I’ve done my last touchstone in Iowa. Time to blow. My next destination is White Butte, highpoint of North Dakota, northwest of here. Rather than strike out on my own through the Dakota plains, I’ve elected to follow the Adventure Cycling Association Lewis and Clark Route up the Missouri.

Going that way will be almost 300 miles longer, and it’s a reasonable question, why on earth take such a detour? Especially after the delays waiting for the opening of Charles Mound, and my slow progress through Iowa. It really could imperil my ability to cross the Rockies before the early autumn snow starts setting in.

But I’m learning that this trip is more about the journey than the destination:

1. I’m tired of having to pick my own route, having to pore over state highway maps and find roads that have a good shoulders, pavement, and not too much traffic; and then transfer these routes to my mapping software. Too many times, when left to their own devices, RideWithGPS and Google Maps put me onto dirt roads. Then I have to stop, pull out the map, and figure out an alternate route, often while standing in the middle of an intersection with nothing to lean my bike against.
2. Iowa at least has a good state bicycle map, but North and South Dakota do not.
3. I’m lonely to meet other bicycle tourists, much more likely on an ACA route
4. I have a soft spot for old Meriwether and William. We have crossed their path numerous times on previous outings, including a cross country family trip at the 2005 bicentennial of the Corps of Discovery. I love how they got away with hilarious misspellings in their journal. Sacagawea is a particularly compelling figure. Continuing my theme of historical rubbernecking, I plan to visit the site of Meriwether’s suicide, on the Natchez Trace, when he was being summoned to Washington to account for discrepancies in the books while governor of Louisiana.
5. 15 years ago, when the route was being researched, I made a contribution, and am therefore one of the sponsors.
6. I can’t think of Lewis and Clark without recalling one of my favorite Far Side cartoons:

Just as I was leaving the campsite I was visited by Kelly from Bangor Maine, who was on a multi-year tour to visit all 48 states, on an e-bike rig that weighed 300 pounds. It was quite a sight, a huge cargo bike, festooned with multiple panniers, including a couple of pet shelter-type boxes (no pets that I could see.) “No pictures, please” he said. He’d been camping behind the bushes at the highpoint last night, heard me talking with Travis and Brandi but didn’t come out, thought we were just kids.

My nearest access point for the L&C route was Vermillion, South Dakota, to the southwest, and rather than zig and zag through the graph-paper grid of back roads I just took Iowa Route 60, a limited-access road that allowed bicycles but often had marginal shoulders. Always safe, with good separation from the traffic but the rumble strip often ate up most of the shoulder leaving only two feet to the gravel margin. I’ve gotten semi-comfortable riding these narrow strips, but it means constantly having a firm grip on the handlebars, never looking away for even a second. Exhausting over the long run, but saving many miles, and with far less hills. I know, didn’t I just say it’s about the journey, not the destination?

After 43 miles of this into a headwind, and with thunderstorms approaching, I ducked out to a motel in Orange City. 80% chance of severe thunderstorms on Thursday, so I took a zero and got caught up, somewhat. I did bike a mile to a restaurant…

Of course, the storms weren’t as bad as predicted, so I felt a little foolish. When younger, I was a lot braver about potentially bad weather. But something about storms in the open plains creeps me out, there’s no easy way to seek shelter, and this is tornado country.

Distance 44 miles, 3,826 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 426 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria