Lansing to Pikes Peak State Park 66km, Time 4.2hrs, Av.15.3km Total 2534km
Refreshed I packed the gear, while doing so I also cable tied a rubber stubby holder to the bars to keep the camera handy.
I still can’t find a map holder for my Ortlieb bar bag, though not totally necessary but it would make navigating in rain a whole lot easier.
Completing a journal entry in the bar at the camp ground, breakfast was on my mind, coupled with the knowledge that some serious hills were between me and Dubuque, especially from here to Harpers Landing.
I went to Miltys, arriving about 1100hrs and proceeded to eat as much as I could from the endless salad bar and soup all for $6.50. It was luxury uptake for at least 45minutes. A trail was worn between my table and the salad bar, pasta salads were targeted.
Anyway you can talk yourself out of these hills, having a nearly done so, I asked a truck driver if he was heading that way.” I’m only going to the mill”l was his reply.
These hills were long, the equivalent of riding up Hannafords section of Bruxner, who those reading this from Coffs can relate to.
The lowest gear was utilized at times, but generally one up from that was ideal. A speed of 6.4km/hr was achieved, this did have some advantages in that small animals, squirrels and the like didn’t hear me coming, so I got to look into their world for brief moments. The smell of road kill lingered at many places.
There were times during these ascents where I contemplated, could the passage through continuous hill country be maintained with this amount of kit. The down hill runs put a stop to these thoughts. I do have to much winter gear on board, but it does make for comfortable pillow stuffing, so it does have some use, 6 to 7 hours a day. Justification of its presence maybe?
Pay back in the form of 70km down the other side was welcome. I was well aware of the circumstances should I wipe at this speed with no helmet. That said, I kept a firm grip on the bars and an eye ahead for pot holes. This is top speed so far without assistance from me.
Arriving at Marquette, a trip over the river to Prairie du Chien in WI was taken in along with a visit to the library to get a couple of photo copies of the the route ahead.
I had lunch riverside in Marquette, earlier having bought some salami, bread rolls and sticks of white cheese, I prepared and ate two. They were shite, manufactured food on a grand scale. It appears I have been eating well. Not to costly, the remains will be tossed for fear of gastric issues.
The next town was McGregor and 3m from that was Pikes Peak SP. The word peak meant one thing and it was a real wind up, no shoulder. At one point a semi had to stop as a car was on coming I was already riding in the grass. So courteous of the guy, I waved as he went past in return a friendly blast was heard, even though much of today was riding with no shoulder traffic was very respectful of my presence.
Arriving at Pikes Peak, I cruised about the camp ground hoping to see another cyclist to no avail. The view of the Wisconsin river as it enters the MR from this vantage point alows one to see how this river does indeed like to spread its wings, so much water. Locals at the lookout informed me even here the waters are up 3-5 feet.
Finding a camp site I set up, actually it was a grass patch between two sites, they had pads of crushed limestone, not condusive to tents .It was near a power riser at which I am compiling this entry.
Campers adjacent to me from Kansas (my age with their wives) started chatting, we had things in common, they invited me for tea which was so generous of them. Upon the meal being plated up , a large bottle of German beer was pushed my way. It felt great to be chatting over good food, a beer and good company.
The tent was sorted after tea, I joined them back at the camp fire with my ever so humble three legged folding stool. They offered me a chair which I gladly accepted.
They had a 5th wheeler and a camper you drove a 6 litre pickup under. I stirred them up saying if they get jealous of my accommodation they were welome to swap for the night.
It was nice to hear of what to expect when I get to the southern states, they had spent time there. The coon arses as they are known, down there speak a French Cajun variation of English so to speak, Butch said they will be sitting with you and you have no idea what they are talking about. He mentioned I’m going to see shacks next to mansions.
Life like the river in this part of the country is ever changing, roll on the south I thought.
We had a great night laughing and talking waffle. The add in the Red Barn for Amish Girls prepared to do odd jobs proved a subject for much laughter, ( no disrespect to the Amish) some of it not appreciated by their wives, an enjoyable night was had followed by an alcohol and physically spent assisted slumber.
Refreshed I packed the gear, while doing so I also cable tied a rubber stubby holder to the bars to keep the camera handy.
I still can’t find a map holder for my Ortlieb bar bag, though not totally necessary but it would make navigating in rain a whole lot easier.
Completing a journal entry in the bar at the camp ground, breakfast was on my mind, coupled with the knowledge that some serious hills were between me and Dubuque, especially from here to Harpers Landing.
I went to Miltys, arriving about 1100hrs and proceeded to eat as much as I could from the endless salad bar and soup all for $6.50. It was luxury uptake for at least 45minutes. A trail was worn between my table and the salad bar, pasta salads were targeted.
Anyway you can talk yourself out of these hills, having a nearly done so, I asked a truck driver if he was heading that way.” I’m only going to the mill”l was his reply.
These hills were long, the equivalent of riding up Hannafords section of Bruxner, who those reading this from Coffs can relate to.
The lowest gear was utilized at times, but generally one up from that was ideal. A speed of 6.4km/hr was achieved, this did have some advantages in that small animals, squirrels and the like didn’t hear me coming, so I got to look into their world for brief moments. The smell of road kill lingered at many places.
There were times during these ascents where I contemplated, could the passage through continuous hill country be maintained with this amount of kit. The down hill runs put a stop to these thoughts. I do have to much winter gear on board, but it does make for comfortable pillow stuffing, so it does have some use, 6 to 7 hours a day. Justification of its presence maybe?
Pay back in the form of 70km down the other side was welcome. I was well aware of the circumstances should I wipe at this speed with no helmet. That said, I kept a firm grip on the bars and an eye ahead for pot holes. This is top speed so far without assistance from me.
Arriving at Marquette, a trip over the river to Prairie du Chien in WI was taken in along with a visit to the library to get a couple of photo copies of the the route ahead.
I had lunch riverside in Marquette, earlier having bought some salami, bread rolls and sticks of white cheese, I prepared and ate two. They were shite, manufactured food on a grand scale. It appears I have been eating well. Not to costly, the remains will be tossed for fear of gastric issues.
The next town was McGregor and 3m from that was Pikes Peak SP. The word peak meant one thing and it was a real wind up, no shoulder. At one point a semi had to stop as a car was on coming I was already riding in the grass. So courteous of the guy, I waved as he went past in return a friendly blast was heard, even though much of today was riding with no shoulder traffic was very respectful of my presence.
Arriving at Pikes Peak, I cruised about the camp ground hoping to see another cyclist to no avail. The view of the Wisconsin river as it enters the MR from this vantage point alows one to see how this river does indeed like to spread its wings, so much water. Locals at the lookout informed me even here the waters are up 3-5 feet.
Finding a camp site I set up, actually it was a grass patch between two sites, they had pads of crushed limestone, not condusive to tents .It was near a power riser at which I am compiling this entry.
Campers adjacent to me from Kansas (my age with their wives) started chatting, we had things in common, they invited me for tea which was so generous of them. Upon the meal being plated up , a large bottle of German beer was pushed my way. It felt great to be chatting over good food, a beer and good company.
The tent was sorted after tea, I joined them back at the camp fire with my ever so humble three legged folding stool. They offered me a chair which I gladly accepted.
They had a 5th wheeler and a camper you drove a 6 litre pickup under. I stirred them up saying if they get jealous of my accommodation they were welome to swap for the night.
It was nice to hear of what to expect when I get to the southern states, they had spent time there. The coon arses as they are known, down there speak a French Cajun variation of English so to speak, Butch said they will be sitting with you and you have no idea what they are talking about. He mentioned I’m going to see shacks next to mansions.
Life like the river in this part of the country is ever changing, roll on the south I thought.
We had a great night laughing and talking waffle. The add in the Red Barn for Amish Girls prepared to do odd jobs proved a subject for much laughter, ( no disrespect to the Amish) some of it not appreciated by their wives, an enjoyable night was had followed by an alcohol and physically spent assisted slumber.