The Ends of the Earth

Manchester to Oelwein, Iowa Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Everybody knows the Winkie March, where the armed guards are marching into the wicked witch’s castle in the Wizard of Oz, chanting “oh-we-oh, oh-WE-oh”, but few know it by that name. Winkie just seems like such a cute little name for those fearsome guards.

Oelwein (sounds a bit like oh-we-oh) was where I hoped to get to yesterday, but elected to stop early in hopes of getting an early start today. Bike maintenance and two long phone calls interfered, however, and the hot headwind remained just as unrelenting, with thunderstorms predicted overnight, so Oelwein is as far as I got today. Well at least this time it was 36 miles.

Oelwein was the focus of the book Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town, about the declining fortunes of middle America and the rise of methamphetamine; it was widely praised in the major book reviews but a local paper found a number of inconsistencies in the reporting. Whatever, it didn’t seem like Breaking Bad to me, just another sad little small town. It had a good Subway, grocery store, and a decent cheap motel however, so I was happy, even if it did mean pushing my loaded bike up another flight of stairs. I’m getting used to this.

It seems to be taking forever to crawl across Iowa. The topography is moderating, rolling hills but nothing too daunting, except the wind. It will be cloudy and cooler tomorrow, still a chance of rain but I will try to get as far as I can. When I get a tailwind, I will definitely make a run for it.

Distance 36 miles, 3,504 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 746 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Dyersville to Manchester, Iowa Monday, July 5, 2021

Today I got an unmitigated taste of what a hot summer headwind can be like on the open plains. Followers of this blog know I have dealt with headwinds before, but this was something new. Something new, but nothing I didn’t expect. I knew the wind would be primarily out of the west in the summertime, and that most people elect to cross the country from west to east, for just that reason. My rigid insistence in doing everything from my home, and avoiding mechanized transportation, committed me to this opposite direction. So I have no one to blame but myself.

One of the better books I’ve read about cross country bicycling is A Hole in the Wind by David Goodrich. He was a climate researcher who was also crossing the country from east to west, and was so beaten down by the headwind that he fantasized about finding a hole in the wind. I guess we all find ways of coping with it. I would get into a full tuck, which would help, but was hard to maintain for long periods. Uphills were helpful, since they blocked the wind a little, but they were still uphill. Once you crested, the full blast of the wind came back. You were grateful that it cooled you down a bit, but frustrated that you had to pedal hard just to go downhill. I typically listen to podcasts during difficult stretches, but the wind was so deafening that I listened to music instead.

You get the picture. I stopped every 10 miles. At the second stop, in the sizable town of Manchester, I found a scrap of shade under a tree and considered my options. Only there, out of the sun’s glare, could I even see my phone screen. A car stopped and asked if I was if I was OK. He was an EMT and had seen me hunched over the handlebars. Geez.

I had planned to go 50 miles to a campground in Oelwein, but at this rate I wouldn’t get there until dusk, and it was going to be a hot night. I looked for a closer motel and could only find an affordable one in the town I was in. Part of my problem is that I’m leaving too late, and riding in the hottest part of the day. Better to stop here, get to bed early, and reset my daily cycle to an early departure. So I stopped after only 20 miles. Sheesh. Hope this works.

Distance 20 miles, 3,468 total. Time 4 hours with stops. Elevation gain 594 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Galena, Illinois to Dyersville, Iowa. Sunday, July 4, 2021

I’m not really that much of a baseball fan. I blame it on my hometown team, the Washington Senators, not the once-good Senators that were sold to Minnesota in 1960, but the expansion Senators that stayed with us for only 11 years, and only once had a winning season, when they finished in fourth place. I went to a number of games in DC (now RFK) Stadium, mostly bored at the slowness of the play, bewildered by the intricacies of filling out the scorecard, and occasionally dazzled by their two superstars, Frank Howard and Ed Stroud.

Heading off to college in Boston, the Red Sox were more fun, but they never really felt like my hometown team, and they never won a World Series while I was there.

So I can’t explain why I was so compelled to go to the Field of Dreams, the site of the 1989 movie, which was a sleeper hit, even though it won no Oscars. It was a fantasy where an Iowa corn farmer hears a voice, “If you build it, he will come” and is inspired to plow under much of his acreage to make a ball field, in hopes of bringing Shoeless Joe Jackson back to life. He succeeds, and hears other voices urging him to kidnap a JD Salinger-like recluse, and find an obscure ball player Moonlight Graham, who played only one inning in the majors and never came to bat. It’s a crazy, twisted plot that makes no sense, until it does. The site has been preserved these 32 years, and is a major tourist attraction.

My BFF Brian is an ardent baseball fan, whose well-thumbed 50 year old copy of the Baseball Encyclopedia is the source of many emails, taken up by my other friends in the PHSIDARUTT group, in countless back-and-forth comments about great players and great plays, past and present. I listen politely but rarely get involved. As I said, baseball doesn’t really mean that much to me.

So why did I feel so compelled to go? It was kind of on the way, but not really, and I am not a fan of big tourist traps. Finally released from the shackles of the Charles Mound limited-access dates, I really felt the need to put in some miles, and get my butt out west. 2 1/2 months, 3400 miles, and I was still at the Mississippi. Let’s get going, and keep the distractions to a minimum.

And yet, the Field had a magnetic pull for me. I was as bewildered as that farmer, hearing that voice. You’ll recall in my “Tangled up in Blue” post, I sought out Moonlight Graham, who became beloved town doctor Archibald Graham, in Chisholm MN (played by the great Burt Lancaster, in his last role). I purchased the movie and watched most of it in my tent. I had to go. Maybe I’d find out why when I got there.

Getting there wasn’t so easy. I was still in the Driftless Region, which means endless hills, in 90° heat. Crossing the Mississippi for the final time was arduous, on a narrow walkway by a busy highway bridge.

A nice stone-dust bike path, the Heritage Trail, provided some respite from the heat as it climbed slowly out of the river valley, but I had to stop frequently for sodas, or “pop” as they call out here. I know, I know, I had some fruit, too. I was threatened by a Rottweiler and another dog that held me up for 15 minutes as I slowly walked by their houses and talked them down, surprised that no one came out, and that this could occur so close to a tourist attraction. It was my first dog encounter in almost 2 months, but these things always rattle me.

Suddenly I saw ballpark lights poking out of the rural landscape, and I was there. For a few minutes, I had the place to myself, later joined by only a handful of others. It was 7PM. I missed the fireworks on this 245th Fourth of July, but this was a better celebration.

In the background of that last picture, sitting alone on the bleacher, was Jim from Texas, who had been there for six hours. He said the place was mobbed in the middle of the afternoon. I was glad I had come in the evening, when the place had a mystical quality. It’s open all year from sunrise to sunset, no admission fee, although they invite donations.

I was overcome with emotion in spite of myself. I tried to watch the last half hour of the movie on my iPad, but even in the early evening the light was too bright. I wound up finishing it over dinner. I saw what I had forgotten, that the movie is not really about baseball, but about reconnecting with your father. See my previous and future posts.

I had to bike there for it to come to me.

Distance 45 miles, 3,448 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,942 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Apple River to Galena, Illinois. Saturday July 3, 2021

This is one of the candidates for the overall title of my blog. My father, Carlos Luria, died last year under dramatic circumstances, which I will be expanding on in a future post, one of the “elephant in the room” posts that I keep talking about, but have not yet had the time to do. At the risk of stating the obvious, Carlos is the Spanish version of Charles, and the title is a riff on Steinbeck’s Travels with Charlie, his renowned narrative of a nationwide trip he took in 1960 with his poodle Charlie in his truck Rocinante. I am scattering Dad’s ashes at the highpoints and other significant spots along the way, taking a cue from another compelling story, The Way, starring Martin Sheen. Sheen is scattering his son’s ashes along the Camino de Santiago, completing the pilgrimage his son was killed attempting. A partial record of my family’s Camino trip 2 years ago is available in the menu above.

I mention it today because I was finally able to do Charles Mound, highpoint of Illinois, a full month after my last highpoint, delayed by the aforementioned restrictions of the landowner. It’s only 1,235 feet high, but the surrounding hills of the Driftless Region meant I climbed 1,852 feet overall. I’ll paste some info from the SummitPost page:

At 1,235 feet above sea level, Charles Mound is the high point for the state of Illinois, which ranks as the 45th state in order of elevation. Charles Mound is located in the northwest corner of the state, near the town of Galena, and is less than 1/2 mile from the Illinois/Wisconsin border. Unlike the rest of the state, Northwestern Illinois was spared by the glacial activity that flattened most of the Midwest. The area actually has some rolling hills, limestone bluffs and some very nice scenery.

Interesting fact: The Sears Tower in Chicago rises 1,450 feet above ground with a ground elevation of 583 feet. That puts the top of the Sears Tower at an elevation of 2,033 feet above sea level, nearly 800 feet higher than Charles Mound. However, it is obviously not considered to be the state highpoint since it is man made. [end of paste]

The roads leading there were hilly and quietly majestic, reminiscent of Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven. They were deserted, until I came upon this odd little cluster of parked cars in the middle of nowhere.

There was little to identify this obscure dirt road leading off,

but a closer look at that sign did give a clue, as did the gap in the gate, completely locked except for the first weekend of each summer month.

The path was a mile long, I was tempted to bike up it, but I elected not to provoke the restrictive landowner. I switched to hiking boots and locked the bike to a post. The track was level at first but gradually steepened and lead past his barn. The net climb from the road was 255 feet.

You come upon this colorful sign in a copse of trees, and although the road ahead looks a little bit higher the small white sign says no trespassing. A nearby USGS marker does identify the first sign as the summit.

The religious theme of the sign was echoed by a couple of fellow hikers, Michael and Ann. Michael is a pastor, had brought up a Bible and recorded a brief podcast at the top, also gave me a personalized prayer that I found quite touching, despite my atheism.

Today was my sister Anne’s 64th birthday, and I tried to call her a couple times from up top, but there were so many visitors that it seemed rude to be talking. With a month’s worth of highpointers crammed into a single weekend, I think I encountered close to 50 other people. Many had seen my bike and had questions, you all know I’m unable to resist talking about myself. I spent over two hours up there.

Highpoint #35, 15 from sea level.

This was the best picture I could get of the highpoint from afar, it certainly doesn’t look like much.

At least the nearby town of Scales Mound acknowledges its existence.

The yakking at the top and the continued corrugated landscape meant that I didn’t get into the cute town of Galena until 6 PM, and I didn’t stop. There was one more huge hill to the campground, which was first come first serve. Galena is the hometown of Ulysses Grant, I of course was unable to read the Ron Cherow biography in advance. I had thought to go back into town for dinner and to catch the fireworks, but it turned out they aren’t until tomorrow and I didn’t relish climbing that hill twice. So I settled for the local fast food joint Culver’s, which at least has pleasant picnic tables and a strong WiFi, where I’m doing this post. I was hampered by two young women having an hours-long animated conversation of escalating volume. I couldn’t really ask them to keep it down in this public place, and my annoyed looks were ignored. I wound up using my Camino earplugs for the first time on this trip.

Distance 28 miles, 3,403 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,852 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Monroe, Wisconsin to Apple River, Illinois. Friday, July 2, 2021

OK, I get it. Enough with the badgers. Last day, I promise. Today, after a total of 23 days, I’m finally leaving Wisconsin for good, if only to cross back into Illinois to do the highpoint. A bike trail was available, but the reviews were poor, so I went the busy road/good shoulder route. No state line sign, so I left without fanfare, but it was still like saying goodbye to an old friend. I had no idea Wisconsin had so much to offer.

Not much to report today, this entry will be brief. It was a challenge locating a campground on this holiday weekend, but I found a bucolic one on the farm of the Linden family, overlooking the rolling fields of Illinois and a picturesque herd of cattle grazing just beyond the fence. The caretaker was an older man named John, who had a pretty profound essential tremor, similar to Katherine Hepburn, which gave him the same tremolo voice, it was uncanny. He had to run a long extension cord so I could have power, and clean a load of bird poop off of my picnic table. There was only one bathroom, which contained the one shower (so using it tied up the whole bathroom), for all of us campers. Otherwise though, it was pretty sweet.

Chatted with Lauren, from Annapolis Maryland, who told me that she had to drop out of high school for family and emotional reasons, but turned out to be bright enough to qualify for Mensa, and wound up getting a graduate college degree. Or so she said.

Those of you who know me well have learned to tolerate my propensity to wander down memory lane. 45 years ago today, it was also a Friday, I decided I had to go to DC to celebrate our nation’s bicentennial. Last-minute decision, of course all buses, train, and plane trips were full. I figured no problem, I can bike from Boston to DC in three days. I left after work that Friday, and got as far as Webster Massachusetts, where I stayed at a KOA campground that was filled to overflowing. I had no tent, so when it started raining I moved my sleeping bag to the bathroom, much to the amusement of the other campers. When the rain stopped, I went back to my campsite, but all I had was a small gravel patch, and almost got run over by a car whose driver didn’t see me and thought it was a spare parking space. The man was so apologetic, he invited me over for drinks and food and his family campsite, and they let me sleep in a corner of their large tent. All great fun, but I only got about two hours of sleep. The next day, the surprisingly steep and numerous hills of eastern Connecticut convinced me of the folly of this whole enterprise, I limped into Hartford, and was able to find a train to DC there.

45 years later, I can’t say my judgment has improved that much.

Distance 31 miles, 3,375 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,150 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Madison to Monroe, Wisconsin Thursday, July 1, 2021

Another low-key day to follow a busy one. The next destination is Charles Mound in Illinois, but as mentioned above I can’t get there until Saturday, and it’s only about 70 miles, so I can afford to take my time. Which was fine, spending a lazy Thursday morning in the company of Charlie, Mary, and their friends is quite a treat.

The obvious middle point is Munroe, and Mary pointed out that I could get there almost entirely on the Badger State Trail, in a fashion seeing my badger after all. Although I was tempted to say, “Badgers? We don’t need no stinkin’ badgers!”

In my typical form it was 1PM before I bid my gracious hosts goodbye, actually Mary guided me the first few miles to the Trail and gave me a hug. I hope to see them again, maybe in Vermont.

The rail trail was paved and heaven for the first 10 miles, then turned to stone dust. Oh well, I was used to that from the Erie Canalway. It did that gradual-grade thing where you only know you’re climbing because your speed goes down. At a rest stop I chatted with John, on a tri bike that weighed a sixth of mine, he was training for a grueling gravel ride in Utah. He mentioned a tunnel up ahead was out, and how to detour with a minimum of fuss. So grateful for the biking community. Beyond, there were a couple of downed trees that were hard to negotiate, one of them scratched me up a little, but for the most part the trail was fine, and delivered me to Monroe without further incident.

No campgrounds or warmshowers, so had to stay at the Super 8. Sure enough, second floor rooms only, and no elevators. Getting used to that, too. But that meant my bike was stuck there, so my only choice for dinner was the depressing cluster of fast food restaurants nearby. Such a shock after many days in idyllic towns. No indoor seating, so wound up walking through the Burger King drive-thru and bringing the Whopper back to my room. At least they serve early breakfast here.

Distance 38 miles, 3,344 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 742 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Madison, Wisconsin. Wednesday, June 30, 2021

The last day of June, and the 75th day of the trip. Something of a milestone, it called for a momentous day, and Madison did not disappoint.

My friend and former resident Darren Knox, who had hosted me in La Crosse, did most of his schooling in Madison and was very proud of it. He put together a scavenger hunt of Madison “must sees” on Google Maps, and I was happy to be guided in absentia. When I was teaching, I would often say that I learned more from my students/residents than I taught them, and this was a supreme example.

Darren said one of the Madison highlights was the Saturday farmer’s market. This was Wednesday, but there was a small market near Mary and Charlie’s house, and walking there gave me a chance to get some pictures of my hosts, and their captivating grandson Ezra.

Charlie is a retired city bus driver, Mary was a psychiatric nurse, and we had so much to talk about. But I had to get going, Darren had a full agenda for me.

Madison is in a beautiful setting, on an isthmus between two lakes, Mendota and Menona. Here is the overview map of my ride.

First stop was the Capitol, which looked impressive enough from the outside, but the rotunda was overwhelming, frankly more impressive than the US Capitol.

Darren directed me to the Old Fashioned, for the best cheese curds in the state, but I got there too early, and when I came back in the evening, the line was too long.

Next was Bascom Hall, the centerpiece of the University of Wisconsin campus, with its iconic statue of Lincoln, gazing towards the Capitol.

Bascom was up a steep little sucker of a hill, but Darren knew I’d be hot and hungry by then, so he directed me to the Babcock Hall Dairy Store, where, as ordered, I had the orange custard chocolate chip ice cream. Heaven. Thence to his freshman/sophomore dorm, on the banks of Lake Mendota. Aren’t the classy dorms supposed to be for upperclassmen?

Madison is full of bike paths, and I followed a beautiful one along the lake to Picnic Point, with a view of the Madison skyline, the U right in front of the Capitol.

Next Darren led me up Pill Hill, where the impressive West High School is, along with the Eugene Gilmore house, courtesy of my main man, Frank Lloyd Wright.

My colleges (MIT, George Washington, UVM) didn’t have football teams, so I am envious of those that do, like Wisconsin. Darren couldn’t help rubbing it in.

Speaking of badgers, I haven’t seen one yet. Next on the agenda was the zoo, with its two famous badgers, Dekker and Kaminsky, but the guard was closing the gate as I arrived. Google Maps said it was open until 5, but the sign clearly said it closed at 2. All I could get was this shot.

Mickey’s Dairy Bar, a keystone of Darren’s agenda, was closed also, as were the botanical gardens. Oh well, you can’t win them all. There was lots still to see.

Lake Wingra had a beach that brought to mind that Seurat painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, although this photo doesn’t capture it.

A bike path led down a creek of the same name, to Lake Monona, where a bass fishing tournament was underway, with a view of the Capitol from the other side of the isthmus. I later learned this was the lake where Otis Redding’s plane crashed, just three weeks before the release of his greatest hit, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.

Another great bike path led around this lake to the Essen Haus, where I had Jaegerschnitzel to the tune of live music and in view of a beach volleyball game

How to cap off this wonderful day? How about another ice cream at Union Terrace, to watch the sunset. The woman was a biochemistry student working on her PhD, waiting for her classmates, who didn’t show until the sun went down. We shared stories of majoring in the life sciences.

Got back to Mary & Charlie’s after dark, but not too late to watch a baseball game and have a third (!) dish of ice cream. In the bathroom was a great bust of Ronald Reagan.

Thanks Darren, Mary, and Charlie, for a memorable day!

Distance 26 miles, 3,306 total. Time 7 hours with stops. Elevation gain 727 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Verona to Madison, Wisconsin Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Today was a big deal for me, a marriage of my past life and my present trip. Just approaching that logo along the entrance walkway brought it all back.

All my colleagues have a love-hate relationship with Epic, but we go way back.

Back in 2002, I was on a task force with a handful of doctors to select UVM’s electronic medical record, and we went all over the country. Almost as an afterthought, we went to this suburb of Madison to visit Epic, a small player in a big field at the time. We met the founder, Judy Faulkner, who struck us as an eccentric hippie lady. The company was small, but scrappy, and we were impressed, it wound up being our first choice.

The first choice of the doctors, but the suits up the hill didn’t see it that way. It was too small, too untested, and besides, the chairman of our board of trustees was also the CEO of IDX, one of the big players. Surprise, surprise, IDX was the system that was selected.

Long story short, that was only one of the abuses rampant in our corporate structure at the time, and within a year our CEO had been fired and sentenced to jail, the entire board of trustees had resigned, and we wound up with no electronic record at all.

A massive frustration for me, who had been waiting for decades to be free of paper charts. It took years for the smoke to clear, but in 2009, we wound up choosing Epic after all, which by this time had become a big player. I was ecstatic, but my enthusiasm was not shared by others. Many were leery of the upcoming go-live, one partner actually quit to avoid having to make the change (only to have Epic implemented at her new job a few years later. You can run but you can’t hide). The big day was January 13, 2010; we closed off a patient room and put in a lounge chair, with muted lighting and soft music, it was the “stress room”. Our productivity dropped by 50% as we got used to paperless charts, some of us called it the winter of our discontent. Everything took twice as long to do. It was paperless, but patients complained that with all the forms printed at check out, they were getting twice as much paper as before.

We all got used to it, partially embraced the system, but when this video came out it struck a chord. https://youtu.be/xB_tSFJsjsw

The salient line: If some be sayin’ it’s Epic, We sayin’ it’s Epic fail.

After 10 years, I left my career feeling that Epic was no picnic, but light years better than what we’d had before, and superior to the other systems that my counterparts in other centers are using. To paraphrase Churchill, Epic is the worst electronic record, except for all the others. It’s been embraced by most of the major academic centers like Harvard, Stanford, Mayo, Cleveland Clinic, not to mention Dartmouth and UVM. I check it even now, 15 months after retirement, to get updates on my beloved patients and to stay current. A couple of weeks ago I zoomed in to a provider meeting, and heard about the latest Epic upgrade. It brought it all back.

So I wasn’t sure what to expect, revisiting the Epic campus after all these years. Normally closed to the public on weekdays, I called and as a member of the Epic community I was welcome to tour. I knew better than to ask to see Judy, it would be like waltzing in to Facebook and asking to see Zuckerberg. The reviews compared it to Disney World without the rides.

Well, it was huge, eye popping, but to my expectations, a little underwhelming. I don’t know what I thought it would be. Basically it’s a huge complex of meeting rooms and offices, with whimsical landscaping, art, and sculptures centered around distinct themes, and lots of low-key, contented looking employees strolling around. I only had time to tour one of these campus areas, called Prairie, although the buildings were named with an astronomical theme. I never saw a computer or an Epic screen, only people, vegetation, and art.

I only scratched the surface, but my alarm went off and it was time for my weekly therapist call, so I found a secluded but idyllic outdoor spot and talked for an hour, reliving some of my Epic trauma. Using the bathroom, I chanced upon the Epic credo on the wall.

Note the right column, Epic is still privately owned, still Judy’s baby.

I was long overdue for a haircut, found a Supercuts in town that could take me in an hour, 10 hilly miles away. I had to cut short my Epic visit to cut short my hair. I arrived, as always, a sweaty mess, but they let me cool down. Thence to a couple of bike shops, dinner, and my next Warmshowers hosts, Mary and Charlie, whose house had that prairie style too. More about them tomorrow.

Distance 23 miles, 3,280 total. Time 7 hours with stops. Elevation gain 949 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Spring Green to Verona, Wisconsin. Monday, June 28, 2021

Frank Lloyd Wright died in 1959, Paul Simon wrote the tune in 1961, our guide was unaware if they had ever met. Bridge Over Troubled Water wasn’t released until 1970, which is where I first heard of the great architect. But no, I had been to the Guggenheim many times before, my grandmother lived two blocks away.

His masterpiece, Fallingwater, is just off the Great Allegheny Passage, itself a continuation of the C&O canal, where my love of bicycle touring was born. I’ve been to Fallingwater twice, despite the steep admission fee and the need to be on a guided tour, so compelling is his creation. Words can’t do it justice. And to think the total cost was $155,000. 2.9 million in today’s dollars, but still a bargain, given what it is.

That marriage of bike touring and stunning architecture in harmony with the land, made Taliesin an alluring destination. This was his home, and a “lab” for many of his designs. It’s a Welsh word meaning “shining brow,” reflecting Wright’s welsh roots and his vision to integrate his structures with the contour of the terrain. Never build a house on top of the hill, that would ruin the line. Instead, tuck it in just below the brow, make it part of the landscape. Brilliant.

He never went to architecture school. He barely finished high school, and blew off the University of Wisconsin after a semester. He did apprentice under Sillsbee and Sullivan, but his virtuosity was entirely his own. A short man with a Napoleanic complex, he always insisted on photographed from below, often with his trademark porkpie hat. Even our guide, clearly mesmerized by the man, admitted he could be “difficult.” That’s putting it mildly. We had to prod him, but he related the sordid tales of his affairs, and the grisly arson/murder that happened here. For all that baggage, though, the man is irresistible.

I opted for the longest (4 hours) and most expensive ($92) tour, and wished it was longer. I took these totally inadequate pictures. The theme, the most succinct summarization of his life, would be “preserving the line”.

I was so dazzled by it all, I was almost short of breath. Had an overpriced lunch at the visitor center, still had 40 miles to Verona (again, shades of Romeo and Juliet) where my hosts Emily and Michael, shared their new home, gracious hospitality, and their totally lovable Newfie, Abby. I was proud to be their first warmshowers guest.

Wherefore Verona? It’s the corporate headquarters of my next epic destination, Epic®️

Distance 44 miles, 3,257 total. Time 10 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,193 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Prairie du Chien to Spring Green, Wisconsin. Sunday, June 27, 2021

I know I’ve already explained it, but the direction of today’s ride seemed just wrong. I rode 67 miles due East, and will continue in this direction over the next couple of days for a total of 100 miles. To see some great sights, sure, but mostly just to burn up time so I don’t get to Charles Mound until July 3. All this lallygagging around. Over 3200 miles, I should be at the Pacific by now. Instead, I’m still on this side of the Mississippi. As the title of an earlier post says, it’s not easy being me.

Not much to say about today, except that it was relatively easy, heading up the Wisconsin River, not too hilly, roads were OK. It was pretty hot, so I made frequent stops, and have been trying to find fruit instead of the usual junk food. OK, I had to get a root beer float at the A&W, who could resist that frosty mug? I passed a couple of seniors on racing bikes, that had been taking a rest. They blew by me, only to take another rest up ahead. We played leapfrog in this way, I the tortoise, they the hare, until I finally met them at a food stop.

They were Mike and Jim, just out for a day ride, but they gave me helpful route information, making it possible to avoid a bad stretch of road. The road they recommended had “road closed” signs on it, but both they and a passing motorist confirmed that you could get through. Still, it was disconcerting going down an 11 mile stretch of road, not sure if you were going to have to wind up turning back. In the end, it was all good.

This campground, the Wisconsin Riverside Resort, was very elaborate with miniature golf, a pool, and extensive boating facilities, but for me it was just overpriced, $47 for a simple tent site, and you had to pay for showers! It had a nice restaurant, though, which kept me from having to go into town. Right next door was a field of corn, and I got to see one of those irrigation booms in action, slowly rolling by, laying down a fine mist. Quite beautiful, actually.

Distance 66 miles, 3,213 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 879 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria