Yellowstone and Teton National Parks, and the Snake River

Something I forgot to talk about in my last blog post was some construction that I rode through in North Dakota near the Montana border. I'm not sure how it slipped my mind; it is certainly noteworthy. I had heard about the construction a couple days earlier from some locals, so I knew that it was there. They said that it had been pretty ugly a couple weeks earlier, but they assumed that it would be in better shape by the time I got there. When I arrived at the town of Marmarth, ND, I saw the first part of the construction. They had taken a short stretch of the road going into town all the way down to dirt in both lanes. The cars and trucks had worn very deep ruts in the dirt where they had been driving, and the rest of it was basically mud. I asked the flagger how far the construction went, and she said this stretch was just a couple hundred feet, but there was more on the other side of town, basically to the Montana border. She said the conditions were much better on that side, and that they had already painted lines on it over there. I tried to ride through the softer stuff between the wheel-tracks, but it was pretty sticky, so I dropped into one of the ruts. At that point, my pedals were hitting the sides of the ruts. I ended up making it through, but it wasn't easy. When I got to the other side of town, the road was pretty nice. Then about a mile out of town the road disappeared and I was riding on packed mud. The traffic was one lane, so their was a lead car. I couldn't keep up with their pace, so I just put my head down and pushed as hard and as fast as I could to avoid dealing with any more traffic than I had to during this stretch. At one point I had a water truck coming at me in my lane that was spreading water over the whole road. It appeared as though I was going to get soaked, but he shut the valve before he and I met. This certainly explained why the road was so wet. I'm sure they had a reason for soaking the road between traffic surges, but it sure made for some crappy cycling. If my tires had been any narrower, I would have been stuck. As I pushed onward, I realized that I was working way too hard for how slow I was going. The loud machinery had masked the noise made by my tire rubbing on all of the mud caked into my front fender. I knew that some had built up, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I stopped and scraped some of it out. It felt like I had just released the parking break and the last 1/4 mile of the construction was a whole lot easier. My parents had tried to check out the construction and then come back to give me a ride, but I made it into the construction before they could get back through it. Eh, I made it through.

Anyway, that gap in the story filled, I'll get back to the narrative of my journey, picking up with leaving Billings and my luggage toting parents. The morning of their departure we hung out for a while during breakfast and I got off to a planned late start for the day. I pedaled a few more miles of interstate before turning south towards Cody, WY. As usual, I stopped a few times to fill with water at rest areas and got the usual responses when I told people what I was doing. I pressed onward to eventually arrive in Belfry, MT, just north of the WY/MT border (On a side-note, their high school mascot is a bat. They are the Belfry Bats.). There's not much in Belfry. I stopped at the bar to ask if there was a place to set up a tent, and they told me about some BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land that was south of town that I could probably camp by. I decided that was my plan, but then it started to rain a bit. The area as a whole looked pretty dry, so I was assuming that the rain wouldn't keep up very long. I sat out of the rain in front of the grocery store next to the Coke machine. As I sat there, several locals looked at me real funny, but never stopped to ask what I was doing. Eventually a pickup pulled up and two men got out to use the Coke machine. They asked what I was doing, and I told them about the trip and where I planned to camp for the night and why I was sitting in front of the grocery store. When they heard this, they looked at each other, looked back at me, and told me to throw my stuff in the truck. Both of their names were Dave. One of the Daves lived in Red Lodge, MT, and the other Dave was from somewhere in eastern Montana. He didn't bother saying the name of the town. He's a school teacher in a one room school house. He said he has 4 students this year. Teacher Dave was out visiting Red Lodge Dave to do some hiking before the school year started. Red Lodge Dave owns a few properties in Red Lodge and is also a guide. Apparently he "guides" wherever people want to go. It sounds like he's been just about everywhere. Some of his stories seemed a bit like he was embellishing a bit too much, but he was a good enough story teller that often I wasn't entirely sure what was fact and what was skewed or inflated fact. Either way, both Daves were great. We got to Red Lodge and they showed me my room for the night and then we went out to eat. The next morning Teacher Dave was working on breakfast for us, after which I went with Red Lodge Dave to run a few errands. The Daves gave me a few wildlife pointers about Yellowstone as they drove me back to Belfry to pick up where I had left off.

I did a little bit of climbing between Belfry and Cody. It was a good little warm up before getting into the more serious stuff. In Cody I picked up a package I was expecting from my sister with some of my cold weather gear that I had left at her place when I passed through at the beginning of July. Without that gear, I would have been one miserable cyclist going into Yellowstone. Before leaving Cody I visited a bicycle shop. I didn't really need anything, I just like visiting bicycle shops. The man there told me some stories about cyclists that had come through and offered a few tips. As I left town, I soon encountered an awful headwind. I think the canyon I was going through really funneled the wind into something awful. I've had some windy days on this trip, but I don't think I've ever encountered anything quite like that canyon. It was exhausting. I ended up camping in the lawn by an inn near Wapiti, WY, for the night. They had nice grass and a fire ring, so it was a pretty decent place to spend the night, though there was no shower.

The wind kept blowing all evening, through the night, and all morning. It was a real pain to get my tent packed up with all of the wind. I stepped inside the lobby before hitting the road and made small talk with the owner and some guests. The owner thought I was headed out of the park, and when he learned that I was on my way in, well, he said that he's seen a lot of cyclists come through and they don't make it far when the wind is like this. He told me that if the wind drops down, I might make it to the east gate of the park, but no further (which would be 9 miles short of Sylvan Pass, the big climb for the day). I told him I intended to make it to the gate regardless of the wind, and then over Sylvan Pass and down to Bridge Bay, if not further. He told me I had high aspirations and that I should look forward to camping just before the Yellowstone gate. I think his lack of faith in me made the day go much quicker. The wind didn't stop blowing (though it wasn't as bad as the previous day) and I made it into the park without a hitch. The woman at the gate looked at me with a little disbelief and asked if I knew that I was about to gain about 1,000 ft in the next 9 miles. I told her that it was closer to 1,900 feet in about 8.5 miles, according to the topographical information on my GPS.

As I descended into the park on the other side of Sylvan Pass, I saw some buffalo just hanging out in a pasture. It was eerie to see these giant animals with no gate or windshield between us. I pulled off at a little rest area to use the restroom and encountered a tour bus full of Germans. One woman asked me (mostly through gestures) what I was doing. Another woman eventually translated for us, which then led to a crowd of Germans around me, gawking in disbelief at what I was doing. As I got closer to the first main intersection in the park where I would have to choose right or left, I stopped at a little store and asked people where I should head. I wanted to turn north and go to Canyon Village, but I heard that there were a whole lot of buffalo on the road there. I decided to go left. When I actually arrived at the intersection, there were several buffalo right beside the road and one standing on the shoulder where I wanted to ride my bicycle. I gestured to traffic that I was turning. There was not a turn yet, so they looked at me with a slightly confused and maybe irritated look. I scooted over to the center line and used an RV to block between me and the buffalo. At this, the confused/irritated driver behind the RV started chuckling a little bit. He seemed to get it. I set up camp at Bridge Bay and made myself some beans and rice.

After stuffing myself with protein and carbs, I got on my bike to head for the campground entrance where I had seen a pay phone (no cell coverage) so I could let my parents know that I had made it into the park without getting broken by a buffalo. As I started rolling down the hill from my campground, a group of three children were in the road, waving for me to stop and be quiet. It took me a second, but I soon saw what they were gesturing at. There was a HUGE male elk walking right through the campground. I stopped quickly and tried to get my camera out. He stopped walking, looked at me, walked a little further, looked at me again, then kept walking. I got one picture taken, but it was completely unrecognizable, so I deleted it.

That night it got pretty cold. I was very glad that I had received that package from my sister and that my parents had brought me my down sleeping bag to replace my warm weather bag. It was tough to get motivated to get out of the bag that morning. Eventually I did and then headed for Grant Village, just south of Bridge Bay. I got there before noon, set up my tent and put my bags in the bear box, and headed for Old Faithful. The previous day I tried to get a room near Old Faithful. I was hoping to find room in one of their more primitive options available for under $100. When I asked at one of the other lodges, they said that there were only two rooms available in the whole park, and they were both sweets: one at Mammoth and one at Old Faithful, both running about $600/night. This left me commuting over to Old Faithful. Between Grant Village and Old Faithful the road crosses the Continental Divide twice. Out and back, I crossed the Divide 4 times. In one day. Thank goodness I had dropped off my gear. One very interesting thing I found at the top of one of the Divide crossings was Isa Lake. It's a very small body of water that is on the continental divide. When it rains or snow melts into it, water runs out both ends. It drains into the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. And because of how the Continental Divide twists and turns through that area, it actually worked out that the west side of the lake drains into the Atlantic, and the east side of the lake drains into the Pacific. It makes sense if you see it on a map. I don't know about any of you all, but I thought that was pretty sweet.

When I got to Old Faithful, I was just in time to wait 10 minutes for it to erupt. I think that the wait made things pretty anti-climactic for me. When it's not spewing water, it's a hole in the ground. The process that is going on under the surface is absolutely fascinating, but what's happening above ground was just OK. After seeing Old Faithful do it's thing, I cruised up and down one of the boardwalks that allowed bicycles and checked out some of the other geothermal activity. I was much more impressed with some of the less regular geysers that had created impressive looking structures around their spouts, and the colors in some of the pools were almost hypnotizing to stare at for a while.

When I had checked in at Grant Village, I met two women that were checking in for a large group of people that were on a guided trip that involved camping, cycling, kayaking, hiking, etc. The organization was called Backroads. When I got back to the campground that evening, I wandered around mingling with other guests in the hiker/biker section of the campground and ended up back at their group campsite. They had saved me some leftovers, as they had said they would. I sat at their table while they cleaned up and prepared for the following day and gorged myself on delicious cold food. Burgers, fruit, potato salad, chips...definitely beat another night of beans and rice. They even gave me fruit for the road and told me to stop by in the morning to see if there were any breakfast leftovers. They said they almost always have leftovers and would much rather feed a hungry cyclist than throw them out. I won't argue.

The next morning I woke up to find three bodies lying on the ground in my campsite, and another tent. Four more people had joined me while I slept. They must have arrived after dark, so they may not have seen my tent, because they looked about as confused as I felt when I climbed out of my tent. I got most of my stuff packed up before they were really up and moving, so we didn't interact much. One of them got up earlier than the others and we made some small talk, but it was short lived. It seemed as though none of us were "morning" people. I headed over to the Backroads campsite to see if they were done with breakfast, but they had just served. I waited a couple of minutes to see if I could find out when they may know about leftovers, and one of the women brought be a breakfast sandwich so I wouldn't be delayed any further.

Thad morning I departed for Grand Teton National Park. This meant crossing the Continental Divide one more time, but it was hardly a climb from the elevation I had been camping at. The previous day had been much more difficult. This is about where I started following the Snake River. I stopped at a turnout to read the information post, and apparently I was in part of the park that got burned up during the fires in 1988. The trees were a lot smaller there than they had been further north. Go figure.

While riding into the Tetons, I met several nice people along the way. There were motorcyclists, RVers, and just day trippers in rental cars. Again most thought I was nuts. I sat and talked with one couple for a while, and they even fed me some of their lunch leftovers and contributed a little bit of cash to the "Feed Neal Fund". Again, the people I've met in person have been fantastic.

The ride into the park was made more difficult by a South wind that I had to fight, but it was an easier ride than Dustin and I had two years ago. We climbed Togowatee Pass (9,658ft) and then were led into the park by our waitress from the diner we stopped at for lunch. We were loaded down and she was on a nice light bike built for speed. She led us into the park at about 18-20 mph if I remember right, and neither Dustin nor I had the humility to ask her to slow down. We both pushed so hard to keep up. Seems a bit foolish in hindsight that neither of us asked her to ease up a bit. Anyway, I went straight to the same place Dustin and I had camped two years earlier: Jenny Lake. All of the signs say that the campground is full every day. It is always full. The nice thing about traveling on a bicycle is that they have a hiker/biker section that's never full. There was one other tent there. And yes, Jenny Lake is just as cool as I remembered it. I suppose that could be taken literally as well. The water is mostly snow melt, so it's really cold, even in August. I wasn't sure when my next shower would come, so I jumped in. Refreshing would be the nice word for it.

After my little dip, I made some beans and rice. In Yellowstone they had specific sinks where they want people to wash dishes. I wasn't sure what they expected here, so I asked some people in the regular campground area. First I chatted with people from southern Utah that told me I should use the website www.warmshowers.com. It's kind of like the Mennonite Your Way directory that I've been using, but specifically for touring cyclists. I just created an account, so we'll see if I can get some use out of it. Later I met a nice couple with several children (can't remember how many) that were from near Salt Lake City. I chatted with them for a while and roasted a marshmallow over their fire.

It was close to dark before I got back to my part of the campground. There I met my hiker/biker neighbors for the first time. It was a young man and woman from California. The next morning I got up to take some pictures, packed up my stuff, and when I was ready to leave, they gave me some of the food that they weren't going to eat. They had flown out and couldn't bring the food back with them. I'm pretty well set for a while now. I hadn't thought about how easy tuna packets travel until I got 4 of them from this couple.

Heading out of the Tetons was pretty windy and it looked as though I was going to hit some bad weather. A few miles down the road I was proven right. I took a long lunch break in Jackson, which may have been a bad idea. I think I could have beat the storm if I had just biked on. When I got to Hoback Junction it started to pour. I sat there for a while and commiserated with some motorcyclists about the weather. Eventually they took off in the direction I was headed. They got my cell number and said that they'd call me from the other side to tell me what to expect. They called and said that they got soaked in the canyon, but it was clear on the other side. They figured I'd be good to go after about 20-30 more minutes. When there was a break in the rain, I took off. I made it about half way through the canyon and pulled off at a little campground (National Forest territory, so there were several options) for the night. Again, I made friends with the neighbors because I had to share a bear box with them, and they thought I was a little bit nuts for going on this bike trip. It drizzled most of the evening and stormed pretty good during the night.

The morning started off a little overcast, but not precipitating. I stopped for a break just before noon just past the Palisades Reservoir dam. The place was called The Dam Store. On their sign, it said, "When you cuss, think of us!" How could I not stop at a place like that. The woman working there had the movie Happy Feet on, and I sort of got hooked. While I was watching, the sun suddenly went away. I went outside to look, and some nasty clouds had moved in. I jumped on the bike and hauled down the road, hoping to get out of it's way. I found out that I had been pretty lucky already. The Dam Store had hail before I got there, and the canyon I was camping in got hail after I left. I booked it about 10 miles to the next convenience store where I pulled off to think about the situation. I ended up sitting outside with 7-8 motorcyclists on a long bench, watching the storm move across in front of us. As I thought about what that lineup of us looked like on that bench, the Sesame Street tune, "One of these things is not like the others" came into my head. Black leather and boots, black leather and boots, black leather and boots, black tights with a neon yellow jacket? Must have looked funny.

When things looked better in the direction I was headed, I made a break for it. That "break" didn't really get me very far. About 3 miles down the road I got a flat tire and it started to rain a little bit harder. As I sat on the side of the road in the rain, changing a flat tire, a man pulled up in his car and told me that when I got things fixed, I should pull off at the next right about a quarter mile down. I did as instructed and met Dan (Dan-o as his co-workers called him). Dan is the chef at the South Fork Lodge in Swan Valley, ID. It was still kind of early in the day and I had hoped to push on to Idaho Falls for the night, but when he offered me a dry place to sleep and a hot meal, I decided that my cycling for the day was done. I got all of my stuff situated in a shed behind the bait shop, changed into some dry clothes, and eventually made my way up to the lodge. The food was great, all of the employees were fun to chat with throughout the evening, and I even got to do laundry. Bob, the guy in charge out there, was also a pleasure to meet. He offered me a room for the night, but I knew that I needed to get moving the following day and that if I had a room in a place like this, I would never get out of bed. And besides, they already gave me a dry place in the shed, fed me, let me do laundry, and gave me a place to hang out for the evening. Bob is good at what he does. As I saw him interact with the guests at the lodge, he knew everyone's name. Beyond that, he was very active in helping things run smoothly by taking food to people and whatnot. Beyond that, he treated me like I was one of their high-paying guests. It was neat to see someone in a position like his seeing people instead of dollar signs.

The next morning I headed back over to the lodge for breakfast, as instructed by Dan-o and Bob. While I was eating there, an employee (not sure what her specific job was) found me in the dining room. Bob had told her about me. She told me that she had already heard about me from her brothers. Apparently I met her brothers a while back (a couple weeks maybe?) while I was traveling. They were on a motorcycle trip somewhere, and I must have been making small talk with them at a gas station or something, then they told their sister, this woman, about me. I'm glad she came to say hi. Funny world, eh?

After breakfast I climbed out of Swan Valley and pedaled through a headwind to Pocatello, ID, where I am staying in a Motel 6 tonight. This is the first shower I've had since Grant Village. It's more than 120 miles to get to my friends' place near Filer, ID, so I'm going to try to get a really early start tomorrow and see if I can knock it out in one day. I'm guessing I'll have to split it into two, judging by the forecast. Hopefully I'll find internet a little more frequently in the near future.

(oh, and yes, I did change my route. I decided to take a more southerly route through Idaho, following the Snake River eventually to the Columbia River. Kind of a last minute decision.)

SAG Wagon through Montana

Just after I ended my last post, a storm had just moved through and I managed to stay dry while posting on here. When I got outside, I found a moderate and consistent tail wind. It was great. It helped me knock out the final 40 miles of my day in about 2 hours 20 minutes. For a loaded touring bike that's gaining in elevation, that's pretty good. I got to Bowman, ND, in good time to bum around a little, grab a bite to eat, and find a hotel room. I had gotten into a rhythm with the whole camping thing, but my parents were on their way and I don't think they came prepared to stay in a tent.

While I was waiting for the parents to arrive, I chatted with my neighbors, Gary and Norma, who were outside of their room enjoying the cool evening air. I told them about the trip, and when I said I was going through Cody, WY, they told me that they lived there. They invited me to stay with them if it worked into my plans and gave me their number. Unfortunately, it is looking like it would be too far to get to their house in one day and too short to break up into two days.

When the parents arrived, it was getting kind of late, so we hit the sack. The next morning we woke up to a very dense fog, which had me dragging my feet about getting on the road. We took our time with breakfast and the fog got a little lighter, but it was still thicker than I prefer to ride in. I saddled up and headed out anyway. It was nice to ride without all the bags on again, as my parents toted them for me. I made pretty good time to Baker, MT, where we stopped for lunch and discussed the road ahead.

Lunch is worth mentioning. This little bar and grill place we stopped at had an interesting special that day. It was a burger topped with bacon, colby cheese, and peanut butter. Dad and I were both curious enough to order it. Mom just wanted to try a bite and ordered off the menu. As odd as that burger sounds, it was delicious.

As we discussed the road ahead, the next stretch of road was a 70ish mile stretch of road with nothing on it. Shortly after Baker, MT, was the small town of Plevna, followed by a long stretch of nothing. The scenery was nice, but the point is that there were no services. Since I had the benefit of a SAG Wagon (general term for "support and gear" vehicle) for this stretch of the trip, we decided that I'd bike half of it. At that point, we would load up my bike, drive ahead to the next town for the night, and in the morning they'd drive me back to where I left off.

At about the half way point there was a rest area (no running water) where we met. There was a very helpful woman there that gave us tips about the roads ahead and also some suggestions about getting through Yellowstone without getting killed by the bison. Bears? She said good luck, and that she'd never sleep there without walls around her.

After loading up the bike, we drove ahead to Miles City, MT. It sort of felt like cheating to see the terrain that was to come before I actually biked it. The next morning was another late start, this time due to my own desire to sleep in coupled with the 40 minute drive to take me back out to the rest area where I had stopped the day before.

As I believe I will always claim, the scenery was better from the bike seat than it had been from the car. I snapped a few pictures, but tried to keep moving, since it had been a late start that morning. When I reached the junction of hwy 12 and I-94, I started riding on the interstate. In Montana it's legal. It's also a lot less scenic. That night we stayed in a little place in Forsyth, MT.

From Forsyth, I got back on the interstate for a long and hot day in the sun to head towards Billings, MT. This time the parents and I made sure we got out the door early to get on the road. I had covered more than 50 miles by 10:30am. Things had gone quite well during the morning when it was cool. At about this time the temperature started to climb. By the time I stopped for lunch, it was almost 100F outside. I only had 24 miles to go for the day, so after finishing the sandwich my parents had brought me, I hit the road. The temperature ended up hitting 104F I think, and I ended up going through more water than I had planned on, so I had to stop to refill with less than 10 miles to go. About 4 miles from the hotel for the evening, I ended up with a flat tire. About 1.5 miles from the hotel my chain slipped off the front chainring (very rare occurrence).

When I got back to the hotel, my mother had been pacing, imagining the worst. Flat tires happen. I wheeled my bike to the elevator and brought it up to the room to work on the bike a little and check out the condition of the tires.

In a few days I should be arriving in Yellowstone National Park. For those familiar with the area, I intend to go down to Cody, WY, and enter the park from the east, not the northeast through Beartooth Pass. I'm not entirely sure how long I'll spend in the park, or what direction I will head out of the park. I'm still unsettled on which route through Idaho I will take.

When I was checking out the forecast for Yellowstone, it looks like they have a chance of snow tonight. When I'm in the park, the low is somewhere in the mid 30's each night. It's a darn good thing my parents brought me my other sleeping bag. I should also have a package waiting at the post office in Cody, WY, with some more cold weather gear I left at my sister's place in DC when I passed through.

Still in the Dakotas

When I got on the road on Friday out of Freeman, my friend Doran came over to pick up my bags so he could tote them to my stopping point just north of Mitchell, SD. It was a pretty easy 50 miles without the bags on the bike. Before I left I received some tips to avoid hwy 44 when heading to Mitchell. Apparenty the James River is running a little bit high. That may be an understatement. Were I crossed it looked like the Platte River (non-Nebraskans may not get that one: mile wide and an inch deep). When I got to Mitchell, I took a couple pictures of the Corn Palace (not worth going out of your way to see) and met Doran at the campground. We went out for Pizza, and I figured that'd be the last familiar face I'd see until Oregon or so.

When I left Mitchell, I didn't come across a decent place for breakfast until about 20 miles down the road where I found a gas station that would fit the bill. I really hate starting the day on an empty stomach, but I hate backtracking even more, so going back into Mitchell after I was already north of town wasn't an option. A little further down the road in Woonsocket, SD, I had a nice long chat about my crazy trip with a gas station clerk and an older gentleman while I filled my water. They seemed to agree that I was a little bit out of my mind, but that the trip sounded pretty neat. The clerk bought me a bottle of Gatorade before I headed out the door.

Somewhere down the road I was just kind of zoning out, pedaling through some familiar looking terratory, though I had never actually been there (more corn), when I realized a pickup had pulled up next to me with his window down. "You look like you're working pretty hard. You want some Gatorade?" he asked. I kind of chuckled and pulled off. As he handed me the bottle of Gatorade, he asked where I was headed. When I told him about my trip, he agreed that I probably needed that bottle of Gatorade more than he did.

That night I ended up in Redfield, SD, at a nice little campground with lots and lots of children. It was the weekend, so all of the campsites were full, but a few of the campers said it would be fine if I just threw up my tent just about anywhere. I set up camp and went to bed to the sound of lots of children running, playing, arguing, and yelling for their parents to settle the argument. I just put in some earplugs and went to bed. I did NOT want to be that crabby guy that comes out to tell the kids to keep it quiet. I get to camp out nearly every night, this is probably a special event for them.

When I left Redfield the next morning, there was a pretty strong wind, but it was mostly a cross wind as I headed north. The temperature had dropped during the night and it was very cool outside. I rode north for just over 40 miles before turning west. At that point I realized just how hard the wind was blowing. I stopped at a little cafe near Aberdeen, SD, and checked the weather on my phone, just out of curiosity. The Weather Channel's website reported that the wind was currently 24mph WNW. I was hoping to make it past Ipswich, SD, but by the time I reached that point in my day, I was spent. I threw up a tent in the city park and was ready to call it a night.

As I was setting up camp, a man pulling a tiny little "camper" pulled up and asked if it was alright to sleep there. I told him that a few locals I had asked on the street had said it shouldn't be a problem, so he parked there for the night. I'm not sure what to call his sleeping arrangements, but my Aunt Vernette has something very similar. It's basically a bed in a little trailer shaped like a raindrop. The next morning Ron offered me some coffee and we chatted about our travels for a bit. It's really a shame I'm not going further north in Washington, because he offered me a place to crash for a night if I were traveling through, and I'd really like to see more of the Washington coast.

From Ipswich I continued west on hwy 12. I got to a little gas station along the road and went in to fill with water. When I came back out, there was a fellow touring cyclist eating what appeared to be about 4 slices of white bread. I didn't see anything between the bread, but I'm sure he had something. It turns out he's from Germany. He said he was going from Vancouver to Toronto. I asked him how he liked that 24mph tailwind from the day before, and he told me that with the general downhill and the huge tailwind, he had made it from Baker, MT, to Mobridge, SD. As you read this, you should look at a map. That's incredible. I don't care if there's a tailwind, that's amazing. That's 209 miles. Even if he was mistaken with his 'B' towns and meant to say Bowman, ND, that's still 163 miles (after traveling for a while, that kind of thing can easily happen).

After being humbled by the German and his mileage, I continued on down the road. In Selby, SD, I stopped for ice cream. There was this little place on the side of the road, and I just couldn't bring myself to pass it. I was a little curious about their rhubarb shake, so I ordered one. Think rhubarb crisp without the crisp and blended into ice cream. It was awsome.

As I pedaled past Selby and on towards Mobridge, a few scattered fluffy white clouds rolled through. The whole day the sky had been completely clear, so the occasional shade of these fluffy clouds was nice. The first big break from the sun came from this big white cloud that looked like the ghost in the Ghostbusters logo. Maybe I'm spending too much time in the sun...

In Mobridge, I was very thankful to find a nice campground with laundry facilities. The night before I hadn't gotten a shower and then in the morning had to put on an unwashed set of cycling clothes, so I felt grungy.

The next morning I crossed the Missouri River into Mountain Time. I set out with every intention of biking to Lemmon, SD, no matter what the weather. Luckily, the morning was almost completely windstill, and all afternoon I had a crosswind, which can be irritating, but it's not a headwind. The sunflower fields started before Mobridge, but there were SO many more after I crossed the river and onto the Sioux reservation. The fields seemed to stretch on forever.

I stopped a few times just for the sake of stopping, and in McIntosh, I met a young man that was currently working on putting six 15" subwoofers in his truck. I don't know what to say about that. I think his truck is going to fall apart.

The next town down the road was Watauga, SD. Google maps doesn't even label it on the map, but they have an inn, a cafe, and a feed mill. I asked the woman at the cafe what the population was, and she thought for a moment (must have been counting) and answered: 12. A town of 12 people could support three businesses. She said that her record number of people served in one day was more than 80. I don't understand.

From there I pedaled the last 30 miles to Lemmon, SD; the last town before entering North Dakota. I found a bite to eat, then started looking for a place to sleep for the night. The city park looked like a decent place, but as I was about to start setting up, a woman on a bike pulled up and invited me to eat with her and her coworkers. I joined them even though I had already eaten my fill. They were engineers working at the Shadehill Reservoir. Cindy was just getting into cycling and had a few questions about gear and whatnot. As we parted ways she made a contribution to the "Feed Neal Fund".

The grass in the park was very nice and made for good camping. I was a bit surprised at the number of mosquitoes this far west, but would later learn that even out here they've been having a very wet year. It had been a long day, and I was really wishing I could get a shower, but settled on rinsing as much of myself in the bathroom sink as I could before changing into street clothes. As I prepared to climb into my tent to escape the bugs for the evening, Cindy came by with a bottle of fruit juice for me. It was probably the most healthy thing I had put in my body that day, so I was grateful.

As I was setting up camp, I got a message from my dad saying that they got rain, meaning the parents are going to come visit me! It's a bit of a drive for them, and mom is just getting back from California, so I probably won't see them until tomorrow afternoon or so. This is a very welcome surprise, as I was preparing myself for a long and lonely road from here to Oregon. It'll still be long and lonely after they leave me, but I'm to the point that I think I can maintain my sanity through it. Now we'll see how the Rocky Mountains treat my body.

Today I pedaled out the first 25 miles pretty quickly, but saw some ominous clouds ahead. I'm currently stopped in Hettinger, ND, where the storm has passed and I should really get back on the bike. I think I'm only covering about 40 more miles today to Bowman, ND. Baker, MT, is probably out of range, especially with this unexpected stop in Hettinger.

On a side note, I think that I will be hitting 5,000 miles about the same time I cross into Yellowstone National Park. The half-way mark is coming up!

West to the Dakotas

When I left the McDonald's in Algona, I cruised north a couple miles to a very nice little campground by Lake Smith. The evening cooled off nicely, and I actually used my sleeping bag, which has been rare this summer. Many nights it doesn't get cool enough to make me want to be inside of it. Given the relatively cool temperature that night, I had a heck of a time getting out of the tent in the morning. I just wanted to stay in my sleeping bag.

When I did get on the road, the cool didn't last very long. When I rolled in to Pocahontas, Iowa, at about 12:40pm, a thermometer read 99 degrees already. At that point I just wanted to get out of the sun, so I found a little diner for lunch. I think the waitress got sick of refilling my ice tea. I had a hard time deciding whether I should just hit the road in the heat of the day to get to my destination, or if I should wait a bit. Remembering how the humidity holds the heat through the evening, I decided that it wouldn't be that much cooler, and I really wanted to get to Storm Lake to possibly take a swim before settling for the night.

With 32 miles left to go, I hit the road at 2pm. I didn't want to know what the temperature was. At the 16 mile mark, there was a small spot on the map called Varina, IA. I don't know if it's actually a town, or just a small collection of houses. There was a Catholic church there, so I sought refuge from the heat in it's shade. I'm very glad that small towns don't feel the need to lock the doors to their churches. I filled my water bottles, drank them, and filled them again while sitting by the front doors.

The last 16 miles were just as hot and humid as ever, but I made it to Storm Lake, IA. Right when I got to town, I went straight to the first grocery store I saw (which happened to be a Wal-Mart) and bought a peach and a fruit tray and ate them in the air conditioned entry way of the store. Yes, I bought a fruit tray and ate the whole thing. It was delicious. From there I pedaled through town towards a place to camp on the east side of the lake near the water park.

I arrived at the campground, paid the $11 for a site, and started to set things up. After my tent was standing, the host of the campground came by and said that there was some inclement weather on the way with some high winds. I called my parents to see if they could give me an update on how things looked on the radar map. After some deliberating, we decided that 70+ mph winds may not treat my tent very well. By looking at the animated weather map online, my dad estimated that I would have 30 minutes to tear down my camp and get to a motel. This was the fastest I've ever taken down camp and packed my bike. I ended up tearing the screen next to the door of my tent a little, but I got things packed up as it started to drizzle. I pedaled as fast as I could towards the nearest motel. The sky was getting very dark.

The Lighthouse Inn (kind of a fitting name, given the situation) was the first place I came to. I found the owner outside talking to some other guests. He understood my situation before I even spoke, seeing the ominous stormcloud backdrop beyond me, with my loaded bicycle. We walked to the main office and he said, "You may want to park your bike in that corner, I think some wind is coming." Just as we stepped inside, all of his lawn chairs disappeared from in front of the office. The wind had arrived. He got me checked in and led me to a room where I could keep my bicycle inside with me. From in my room, I called my parents as I watched the lawn chairs blow back and forth across the parking lot, the owner close behind.

As I was looking out the window, I saw a very bright flash as the power went out. At first I was wondering where the "boom" was, expecting it to be a lightning strike. It turns out a tree fell on the transformer right beside my room. The owner came by my room and knocked on the door to ask if I could give him a hand. He gave me a flashlight and we went towards the basement. I stood at the door as he went around to the other guests. The storm left us almost as abruptly as it had arrived, and we got to see a little bit of sunset on the horizon while the sky overhead was still black with storm clouds and thunder was booming from the east, where the storm was headed.

After chatting with the owner of the inn for a bit, he gave me some food and then we got in his truck to go survey the damage. The wind had blown across the length of the lake and nailed the campground where I had previously been set up. One of the campers was tipped over, two trees were uprooted, and one giant tree was broken off about 6' off the ground. Much of the town was without power.

The following morning I went out and snapped a few pictures of the damage near the campground before hitting the road for Sioux City, IA, where I would stay with my cousin Amber. The weather forecast called for another blistering hot day, but I lucked out and found clouds all day. It was still hot and humid, but not nearly as bad as the day before.

Several relatives of mine live in the Sioux City area, so for supper after I arrived, most of us gathered at my cousin Justin's house for supper, just outside of town. I really enjoyed seeing this group again, as it had been a while since I'd connected with most of them. Laundry and a comfortable home to stay in were also nice perks of my time there.

The following morning I set out across the river into Nebraska, where I would meet up with some family and friends that were coming up from Henderson. I had an awesome tailwind for the first part of the morning that put me in good shape to beat their van to our meeting place. I decided to kill some time in Ponca, NE, at a little coffee shop. I ended up talking with the employees and two of the patrons about my bicycle trip as I sipped my coffee and waited for the Henderson van to get closer.

The sky had started to darken by the time I left the coffee shop. I made it about a third of a mile before the sky opened up. I quickly pulled off to a picnic shelter to wait it out a little. After the brief storm passed, my tial wind was gone, but I wasn't far from the intersection where we were going to meet.

When I got to the intersection, my mom, grandma, grandpa, a few aunts/uncles, and some friends were waiting. I had the opportunity to ride a different bike for a few miles at this point. My uncle Mike has tuberous sclerosis (I'm pretty sure that's what it's called) and can't walk or communicate very well. The home that is caring for him recently acquired a bicycle with a seat on the front where Mike can ride while someone sits on the back to pedal and steer. We got Mike strapped in and I rode with his bike for a few miles across the South Dakota border. My friends Adam, Jay, and Mike rode along side for this stretch of the road as well.

Once in South Dakota, I switched back to my regular bike. Adam and Jay then continued to ride with me to Vermillion, where the whole group of us stopped for lunch at The Roadhouse. Several of the people present contributed a little something towards the "Feed Neal Fund" before taking off back towards home. They did a lot of driving for not a lot of time spent with me. It was nice to see that kind of support.

When I left Vermillion, Jay continued to ride with me, and Adam drove ahead with my gear to Swan Lake Christian Camp near Viborg. At 38.5 miles, I believe taht this is the longest stretch that anyone has ridden with me to date. When we got to camp, we took a dip in the lake right away. It was great. I've spent countless hours in that lake over the years that I was a camper, counselor, staffer, or Bible leader at camp. It was a great way to cool down at the end of a pretty long day of cycling. Shortly thereafter we dried off and raided the camp refrigerator for leftovers. Everyone loves Mary's leftovers. Best camp cook. Ever.

After eating, Adam and Jay hit the road for home. They had to get back to their jobs. Hmph....jobs.

That evening my friend Doran picked me up and took me to our mutual friend Nathan's place to hang out for the evening. There was a small group of people there intending to have a campfire, but the bugs were too awful. We stayed inside and played boardgames instead. I didn't end up getting to bed until close to 2am, which is 4-5 hours after my usual bed time.

The next morning I slept in and then had lunch with Mary, the camp cook. It was a hot afternoon, but it was less than 30 miles to get to Freeman, my next stop, so it wasn't a bad afternoon. I got to my friend Stacey's house in time to see her and her husband Jeremy head out the door to go to a wedding. I spent the evening hanging out with their children and their baby sitter. By "hanging out" I mean I played around on the internet while the babysitter babysat.

Yesterday I took the day off and went to Sioux Falls, SD, with Nathan and Doran to run a few errands. I picked up some new inner tubes for the bike, some water purification tablets in case I get caught in a pinch out west and need drinking water, and a Camelbak to carry more water so that I don't end up in a pinch out west. I also went to a thrift store and got two shirts to replace two of the shirts I've been carrying. One of my shirts (a snap shirt) doesn't stay closed any more because I was wearing it when I got bumped off the road by the flatbed trailer, causing me to play "slip-n-slide" with the pavement.

In the evening, I did a little stitching on my tent to close up a small hole in the screen, put new tires on my bike, and visited with my friends Brad and Bethany that stopped by.

This morning I got up and looked at the weather, and I decided to wait for a front to pass. They said there was an 85% chance of rain at 12pm. Now that I'm taking the morning off, the chance of rain has dropped to 15%. Oh well. I'm getting blogging done. I'll leave after lunch.

The last town that I'm going to see in South Dakota is going to be Lemmon, SD. Lemmon, SD, is about 400 miles from here. I'm going to be in South Dakota for a very long time. We'll see what the internet situation looks like out west. I'll probably be relying mostly on public libraries, which could make internet access spotty.

Corn, Soy, and the Rolling Plains

After posting my last update, I ended up at Big Foot Beach State Park for the night. I pulled in and got the site mostly set up to my liking, then wandered over towards my neighbors, Tim and Amy, to ask if they knew what Mother Nature had in store for us that evening. As a lone cyclist pulling into a campground, that's always the easiest way to strike up a conversation with the neighbors. After listening to the weather radio for a while, I ended up sitting with Tim, Amy, and their two daughters around the campfire. They fed me a couple of pizza-like sandwiches that they prepared over the fire and provided me with good company for the evening. As the weather radio had suggested, the evening was cut a little short by the rain.

The following morning I hit the road after grabbing a bite to eat at a local cafe. On my way out of town, I found another fearless deer by the side of the road. This one wasn't even in the trees, it was just standing out in the open about 20 yards from the road. I stopped, got out my camera, and took a couple of pictures while it stood very, very still, maybe hoping I wouldn't see it while I was busy playing with my camera. How do deer like this live long enough to pass along their genes? I was tempted to pick up a small rock from the side of the road to see if I could actually hit it. I didn't want to hurt the animal, I just wanted to know if I could actually hit it with a rock. I refrained, put my camera away, and kept on cycling.

Eventually I arrived at my friend Claire's house in Madison, WI. It was a very welcome sight, as a shower sounded wonderful at that point. We hung out, saw the sights around Madison, and ended the evening catching up with some mutual friends that also live in the area.

The following morning I started heading towards the Minnesota border. Not really knowing good bike routes, I just jumped on hwy 14. It worked fine enough for my liking, but I found out later that there's a better way to go. Just outside of town I was riding along, glanced down at my GPS, heard a rustling in the grass right next to me, immediately followed by an awful scream. Anyone reading this ever hear the sound an injured rabbit makes? It's an awful noise. I'm pretty sure that's what came out of the brush near the road, RIGHT next to me. I just about pissed my pants, then started laughing, not because a rabbit was being attacked, but because I just about pissed my pants.

The terrain out of Madison started off very VERY flat, but towards the end of the day I was going up a fairly long climb (for southern WI, that is), followed by a long flat, followed by a long descent, another long flat, and repeat. It was not too bad, but by the end of 90+ miles, I was ready to be done when I got to Viroqua, WI.

I was pedaling through town towards a camp ground when a fellow cyclist crossed paths with me. He turned around, caught up to me, and offered me a place to sleep for the night. I rode with Bjorn back to his place where he double-checked with his housemates if it would be alright if I crashed there. Cecil and Sonya seemed to have no problem allowing a guest into their home for the evening, so I had an unexpected roof over my head for the night. After my shower, Bjorn showed me around town a bit. I was really surprised at how cool of a town Viroqua is. There are remnant buildings in town from the old tobacco growing days, before the government stopped subsidizing it. Now the historic buildings house small businesses. The ground formerly used for growing tobacco now grows mostly organic vegetables. Bjorn's job has him working with a lot of organic farmers in the area. He told me there are something like 222 small organic farms in the county. He also took me to the food co-op in town, which was very cool. They had signs by all of their produce, telling exactly which farm it came from. The signs were color coded to distinguish between local, regional, and everywhere else. Obviously their peaches weren't coming from a local farmer in Wisconsin, but you could just look at the tag and know exactly who it was that grew those peaches. As we headed back to the house, we happened to bump into the owner of the one bike shop in town. It looked like they had a really cool shop already, but they were in the process of putting in a coffee bar. It doesn't get much better than that.

The next day I headed out of town the way Bjorn told me to go and headed for the Mississippi River. The route he put me on involved a little more up and down than I would have had the other way, but it was beautiful and had a whole lot less traffic than where I had been. As I approached the last bit of climbing before coasting towards the river, I saw a bunch of cyclists up ahead. When I got to where they were, I found out that they were doing time trials up the hill. I think a local bike shop or some other organization was putting on a bit of a clinic or something to help these people become better cyclists. I got there as they released the last one up the hill (released in 15 sec. incraments to keep them separated, but still time them). I followed the last guy up the hill and lost a bit of ground on him as we climbed, but I did pretty well. I got to the top while they timers were still parked by the road. They had seen me at the bottom and I think they were surprised to see me at the top already, right behind their last rider. They jokingly asked if I wanted to know my time. I'll be honest, it was not an easy thing to try to keep up with the guy in front of me, but I'm carrying a whole lot more weight on a much heavier bike, so I'm ok with that. One of the guys snapped a picture of me as I came up. We made small talk for a bit, they thought I was out of my mind when I told them about my ride, then they had to go back to address the riders they had just timed. As I rolled past this mixed group of young and old riders participating in this thing, they all basically looked at me like, "Is he nuts? He just climbed that hill we just came up with all of that crap on his bike..." This stretch of Wisconsin actually reminded me of the Appalachian Mountains, except a whole lot easier to ride.

After a brief stop in La Crosse, WI, to check out my route on a computer, I took Bjorn's advice and headed for the Root River Trail. The trail was mostly lined with trees, protecting me from the 18-20 mph winds that had picked up by this point. It took me on a quaint little path through the hills of southeastern Minnesota through a lot of farm country amidst a lot of tree covered hills. I found a campground along the trail near Preston, MN, where I spent a pretty uneventful night.

The next day I continued to move southwest into Iowa. At about this time I started to think about how much corn I had seen so far. I remember the vast expanses of corn starting somewhere in New York and continuing the whole way to Iowa. I know what's west of here. More corn, occasionally rotating with soybeans. I kept rolling into Iowa until I got to a town with a library (Osage, IA), where I started writing this post until the library closed. As I headed out the door, I asked the woman working at the desk if she knew a laundromat in the area. She told me where one was, and then asked how long I had been traveling. She thought it was very cool, but didn't have time to talk. I went to the laundromat, and the same woman swung by on her way out to tell me about an event at the fairgrounds.

While doing laundry I chatted with a local fellow for a bit, explained a little bit about the different kinds of Mennonites and why I didn't have a beard or black hat. After laundry, I headed towards the fair grounds to see what was happening. They had an event called "Friday Night Out" going on with live music and food. I stopped to grab a bite to eat and listen to some music. The librarian saw me and insisted that I meet a woman from the Chamber of Commerce (unfortunately I have forgotten her name). She was very excited to have me stopping through and immediately drug me on stage and introduced me to the crowd. It was a little awkward, but a very nice gesture. I stuck around for a little while and a few people stopped me to ask some questions.

When the sun started to set, I got back on the bike and headed west towards a campground several locals had mentioned. They said it was just a mile or so out of town, so I didn't think I needed to leave too early. I put my flashing rear light and my headlight on and started out of town. I really don't like riding at dusk, so I was not moving very fast and was looking behind me quite regularly to try to avoid traffic. Most of the shoulder was gravel, so I was basically on the white line the whole way out of town. Most of the traffic was being very cautious around me and slowing way down, waiting for the opposite lane to open up, then passing. One truck, however, decided that there was room for us both on the road. He had slowed way down, but decided to pass. I was a bit startled to have his rear view mirror a couple inches from my shoulder, so I stopped pedaling and focused on staying on the very edge of the pavement because the gravel was pretty thick and I was moving too quickly to safely handle the transition. The truck got past me and for a split second I thought I was in the clear. Then the fender of his flat bed trailer caught my front pannier (bag), thus changing the direction of my bike. For the second time this trip, I found myself flying over my handlebars, only this time it was not my inattention that caused the event. Like last time, I'm not exactly sure what happened with the landing, but both my hands, my chest, both my knees, and my chin hit the pavement. Lucky for me, I kind of just landed and there wasn't any sliding involved, so the road rash is almost non-existant, but my jaw is sore. I suppose I'll give the driver the benefit of the doubt and allow them to plead ignorance of how to drive when a bicycle is present, rather than call them a jackass. And I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that they didn't see their trailer knock me off the road into a tumbling mess rather than accuse them of a hit-and-run. Regardless of what was going on in that person's head or in the cab of that pickup, I really would feel safer on the road if they did not have a lisence. I picked my crap up off the road as traffic continued to pass, reattached everything to my bike, bent some stuff back into place, and kept going to the campground. I set up camp as quickly as I could and just went to bed, soon enjoying the sound of rain on my tent.

This morning I got up at a decent hour and headed straight west. There were a few sprinkles in the morning, but nothing major. The wind picked up during the afternoon and blew mostly out of the south all day. A headwind is obviously not a lot of fun, but after several ours of fighting to keep your bike on the road with a 14mph cross wind while trucks pass. I got just outside of Algona, IA, and found a little bar on the side of the road. I needed water and a break from the mind-numbing wind. I stepped inside and was quickly greeted by a couple at the bar. When they heard what I was doing, they immediately gave me directions to their house in Algona and told me to go there. For a couple of reasons, I am going to a camp ground north of town. The people seemed nice enough, but I did not feel comfortable just walking into their house where the only person that was home was the woman's daughter. The woman called the daughter to tell her that I was coming. I got an opportunity to speak to the daughter (in her 20's). She made it very clear that she did not want me in the house, no matter what her mother said. The rest of the conversation was a mix of their sense of humor and reality that I could not distinguish between. I feel bad not accepting their hospitality, but it just didn't sound like the kind of place I would get a decent night's rest.

Now I'm at a McDonald's, about to use that 14mph south wind to push me 4 miles north to a campground. I should be arriving at Sioux City on Monday and riding through the northeast corner of Nebraska on Tuesday on my way into South Dakota, which will likely be the last place I find familiar faces for quite some time.

The Not-So-Windy City

So, if I post more frequently, maybe I won't have to rack my brain so hard to come up with details from my travels! Profound thought, eh?

After my last post while I was still in Goshen, IN, I pedaled around town for a while. I rode through the campus of my alma mater, Goshen College, and past the church I attended during those two years, Assembly Mennonite. It was quite the trip down memory lane. I was quite familiar with just about every square inch of that campus after working with the grounds crew out of the facilities department. I could guide you to every outdoor trash receptacle and every indoor plant that needed water around campus.

The next morning, I woke at 5am to make sure I could be packed and ready to go to breakfast with my friend Charles at 6am. After grabbing a bite to eat at The County Seat, we hit the road in a light rain. That's right, we. Charles rode with me for a while! We rode to his parents' place, where we took a break and we went our separate ways. Luckily the rain didn't stick around for long. I pressed onward through the drizzle in time for things to clear up near Lake Michigan. I followed highway 12 around the south side of the lake through some heavy industry and really awful roads. As I entered the city, I let my friend David know that I was close, so he came and met me on the bike path that follows the lake shore and we biked to his place, where I spent the night. That is, only after a quick dip in the refreshingly cool waters of Lake Michigan. It was nice to have that kind of cooldown after a 111 mile day.

The next morning I got up earlier than necessary because my body doesn't like to sleep past 6am so much any more. After lying around for most of the morning, I finally left the apartment to go meet Zach, a current Hesston College student, for lunch. We met at Millennium Park, so I got a chance to take my obligatory picture with the big silver thing. Everyone that visits Chicago needs a picture with the big silver thing (officially titled Cloud Gate, but popularly known as The Bean. I prefer The Big Silver Thing. It reminds me of the classic 80s movie Flight of the Navigator). This was my first touristy visit to Chicago. I drove right past the south side dozens of times while attending Goshen College, but never really visited the city. Zach and I decided we should get deep dish pizza while I was in town, since it is Chicago and all.

I pedaled around the city a little more and got to see my friend Morgan that just happened to be traveling through town a that same time. That was a nice surprise. Eventually I had to ride back south to David's place to get my gear, then back north again to head towards the current residence of another friend, Erini. While there, we decided to use her Wii to weigh me, because they said I looked little (relatively speaking). We told it my height and age, and after stepping on to the Wii balance board thing, it told me that I am obese. I think I'm a living argument against using BMI (body mass index) for anything. At one point my health insurance was hiked 10% because of my BMI. I kind of wanted to ask the insurance agent if he wanted to go for a bike ride.

After my encounter with the Wii and catching up with Erini and Travis, I headed towards my friend Lowell's new place. Yes, this is the same Lowell that I stayed with in Michigan. I got to join him on his first night in his new apartment in Chicago.

This morning when I pulled out of Chicago, Lowell joined me for a while. Lowell and I were cycling buddies while I lived in Kansas, and I would join him occasionally when he would bike from Newton to Wichita State University for class. On this occasion, he did not have his road bike with him, so he was riding an old mountain bike. I know Lowell is a fully capable cyclist, but he really had to work hard to keep up on his creaky bike that wouldn't shift into some of it's gears. I felt bad for him, having to work so hard, but I appreciated the company and the escourt out of the city.

A ways down the road after leaving Lowell, I pulled over to refill water and make sure my GPS wasn't taking me on to any roads that would make me unhappy later. As I was paying for a beverage, the clerk struck up a conversation with me about the whole cycling thing, and ended up donating a little to the "Help Feed Neal" fund.

Now I'm off towards a campground just on the other side of the Wisconsin/Illinois border for the night.

By the way, I am trying something new with pictures. It's a pain to upload them one at a time to the blog, and an even bigger pain to upload to facebook, so a friend suggested using Google Picasa. Below is a link. I just put everything from my camera on there, so there are a lot of very similar pictures. Sift through and only pay attention to the good ones. If there are any.

http://picasaweb.google.com/109453829912116812581