56 Miles
I woke with the sun. Or maybe it was finally just quiet. The revelers partying had ceased. The firecrackers had all been set off. The deer had his fill of corn and was now probably laying in a field, belly full and happy. I began to pack up immediately. I was anxious to carry on with my travels. I was lucky to have awoken with the sun. A gentleman arrived while I was packing up. He was setting up a firework cannon. He told me it was going to be loud in a few minutes. Oxford Junction had a tradition of a sort of wake up call on the morning of July 4th. The bang of the cannon echoed through the hills. I waved goodbye to the man who had set it off and thanked him for the warning.
The town shop was closed this early holiday and Sunday morning. I would have to enjoy breakfast at the next town. I set out for the short 7 or so miles.
There were more hills than I had expected. And the sun was warming my arms quickly. I changed from long sleeves to short on the side of the road. I ran into a sign claiming the road was closed 6 miles ahead. I looked at my map. I contemplated the detour. But I figured I could brave it. I pedaled on. I was glad when I reached the town to realize that I had made the right choice. A bridge was out in town, but I only had to go around the block. I found a convenience store and enjoyed some chocolate milk and breakfast pizza. The store had a constant flow of customers and I sat outside watching the variety of people coming in and out. I saw people ready for a picnic, ready for church, ready for a rodeo. Ah, America, your variety is something I am coming to appreciate. I left the town with a bit of a smile on my face.
My next stop was about 20 miles away. The hills were big but with an even amount of downs and ups. I arrived in the town to traffic. People seemed impatient with me and zoomed around me. I turned down a side street to check out my map. I sat at a baseball diamond and pulled out my maps.
I had to return the busy road to continue on my route. I soon noticed horses, marching bands and twirlers walking the sidewalks. People were carrying chairs and their children in tow. Families started to line the road with their chairs. A parade was about to commence. I ate at another convenience store. I sat and watched the people. I didn't stay for the parade. I wanted to keep moving. But I enjoyed watching all the people.
Getting out of the town using my maps was annoying. The road listed was a dead end. Google maps was of little help. Eventually I found the road and the big sign claiming that it was closed. Local Traffic Only. I looked at Google maps. There didn't look any suitable alternate routes, at least any short ones. I decided to try my luck.
I approached road signs and blaze orange cones. The site was quiet and abandoned. The Sunday holiday meant the workers were off with friends and family. I was happy to discover that the road still had one lane open. It was dirty and gravel packed, but I could ride across the closed section without any trouble. That was easy. I felt happy with my decision to try my luck. My heart sunk a few more miles down the road when the signs again told me the road was closed. It had worked twice today, I went ahead and rode on past the signs. Yes! It was much the same as the previous site. I wasn't in the clear though. A few more rolling hills and I approached another road closed sign. This one was missing a bridge. The road was completely closed off. I got off my bike and looked around. The stream was fairly deep and quick moving. I could walk it but it wouldn't be fun. Then I noticed the dirty ramp lined with equipment. It was narrow, but my bike and I could manage it. I squeezed my bike and gear around the blockade. I crossed the dirt ramp and was pleased with my luck. I could barely squeeze through the blockade on the other side. I hurried on. I imagined all the time and miles I had saved myself by braving the closed road.
I reached Farley a short time later. I stopped again. I rested longer and charged my phone at a gas station. I have gotten quite good at finding outlets to plug in to. It may be a bit of a talent.
The route leaving Farley to Dyersville left me 2 options. One was a shorter path along the Iowa Heritage Rail to Trail. The other a hilly road passing by the site of the movie Field of Dreams. I chose the shorter flatter route. Apparently just because you build it, doesn't mean they will come.
The path was quick and my excitement grew, because as I neared the end of the trail my odometer was ready to turn over from the hundreds to thousands. 1000 miles. One Thousand Miles! I had really traveled that far!
Dyersville was a bit of a bleak town and the rain started as I rolled in making it look even more bleak. I looked for places to stay. I decided on a state park about 7 miles North. I made it there only partially soaked. I found a site and payed at the self-registration. I set up and took a shower. I cooked a gourmet dinner of Ramen
Monday, September 13, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)