Booo, weather

Friday, 25 July: I forgot to say something yesterday. Jim, Judy and I were discussing how people act differently in big cities than they do in small towns, and Jim said "The more people there are, the more isolated they are." Pithy.

In the first couple miles of my ride, I was overtaken by this guy (82times.com) who is also a wandering cyclist who kinda plans his route on the fly. We chatted for a few miles, but then he had to pass me, because he was hoping to do about a hundred miles today, to get home and see his family in Iowa. Fortunately for both of us, the wind had changed direction, and was more help than hurt. It was deathly muggy, though, and pretty cloudy.

I stopped by the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum in Pepin, Wisconsin, cuz you know I read every single one of those "Little House" books. I was a giant girl when I saw the dollhouse with a general store in the bottom and living quarters up top. Nellie's house, I guess? I loved all of the tiny little canned food and seed packets. I tried to take pictures, but the glass front on the display confused my camera.

It started to rain shortly after I left Pepin, but I was okay with that. I was hoping my funky standing-on-their-own clothes would get rinsed out a little. Since I've been in the more humid part of the country, I have stopped hand washing my clothes, because they never dry. About a mile before the next town, Nelson, the rain picked up and the thunder and lightning started. Just in time, I ducked inside a laundromat and washed everything. The sun came out, and I was on my way. Later I found out there was a cheese factory in Nelson that I hadn't seen! Sad.

I missed the sign that said that my road turned left. I just kept following the main road through town, like I did in the previous three towns, and before I knew it, I was crossing the Mississippi. Again. Dang it! I accidentally went to Minnesota. Sigh. I turned around, went back through Nelson, still didn't see the cheese factory, and was back on track. It was only about a six mile detour...

In the evening, I stopped in Fountain City for a convenience store snack. Holy diver! This Kwik Trip has fruit, vegetables, and yogurt! Nice. I ate my grapes and tropical smoothie outside, and was preparing to climb back on my bike when someone in the parking lot told me about the severe storm warning that was headed this way, and pointed to the giant black clouds coming from the same direction I had come from. I thanked him, found a garbage shelter in which to stash my bike, and ducked inside a bar for a Michelob Amber Bock. I frequently encounter this beer on tap, and have been pleasantly surprised by it. All this time I thought I was a beer snob, when it was really all about color. I'm a beer racist.

By the time it became obvious that those clouds were an empty threat, it was too late to reach my intended destination before dark, and I wasn't sure there was much between here and there. I chose to backtrack (blurg!) a couple of miles to Merrick State Park. They charge $14, and all they have are portable toilets with no sinks. If there's one thing I have become accustomed to on this trip, it's that if I have to pay any money to camp, I should at least get indoor plumbing, and if I paid more than $10, I should get a shower. I could ride all the way to the other, classier campground at the other end of the park where I heard tell there might be showers, but I don't want one quite that badly. It's really all about principle. I'm a little cranky about the way today turned out, partly because I rode 50 miles and ended up 35 miles from my destination, and partly because I spent more money than I wanted to. I'll just think about how I spent no money yesterday, and maybe that will console me... And tomorrow I'm supposed to have a tailwind and sunshine, so maybe I can make some better miles.

...

So after I wrote that last bit, and before I could post it because my dang reception here is all sketchy, I got two strong reminders of why I should love the trip I'm on, and not the one that could have been.

The first was that I had seen two hep-looking women around the campground when I was looking into the shower situation. While I typed, I was kicking myself for not asking what they were doing tonight. Then they walked by my campsite, so I asked. They said they were going to make a fire, and invited me over. We had an excellent evening of conversation and fire.

The second was that on my way back to my campsite, I got an amazing view of the stars. I've spent a lot of nights in well-lit city parks, but this state park has no lights, and is several miles out of the nearest town. Not only are the stars stunning, but there are frogs and birds all around, so I have a beautiful natural soundtrack of something other than those insipid mourning doves that sing all day and all night at the city parks. Ah! It is great to be able to love what I have, and not what I wish I could have had. It is yet another case of rediscovering something that I knew to be true in my head, but had a hard time keeping it in my heart, and in the forefront of my thoughts, during a challenging time.