Sunday, June 12th
“What does the future hold for me? What is there to believe in?”
from Korallreven – Here In Iowa
As I’ve been progressing through the states I’ve tried to listen to music pertaining to that state, either bands or artists who have there roots there, songs which mention them, or in the case of ‘Carry Me Ohio’ by Sun Kil Moon, both. It’s a pointless exercise but the kind of thing which makes me happy.
I’d been waiting to listen to Here in Iowa by Korallreven in Iowa ever since I knew I’d probably be passing through Iowa. I first heard the song in New York, just before I left my job last year, and in a way it’s been a bit of a soundtrack to my travelling. Though its lyrics sound totally hopeless written down there’s a bouncy, open ended positiveness to the song in not knowing what is coming next. It was the band’s last single, a happy and sad goodbye, before they split.
The night had been a strange one. It seemed to be getting increasingly hotter and more humid as a lay on top of my sleeping bag, sweating, and trying to sleep. During this time it felt like I drifted away from myself slightly into some kind of existential state. It wasn’t quite sleep but I wasn’t fully awake either. I was asking too many questions of myself about where I was, what I was doing, and why. The heat seemed to be withering my presence of mind.
The next thing I know it’s 3am and my tent is full of bright white flashing lights which come and go from all sides. The closest comparison I have to this is being in a club in Berlin. The lights had a strobe like effect, lighting up, momentarily, the pitch black darkness I was lying in. Of course there was no techno playing.
At first I thought I’d left my headlamp on, I sometimes dangle it from the ceiling of my tent in the evenings. But this was switched off. As I began to wake up I realised I was right in the middle of a storm, a big angry storm unlike any I’ve experienced. The lights I was seeing were lightning. But it didn’t seem to strike the ground like I knew it to, it just buzzed around the sky like one of those things you put your hand on as a kid at a science museum. It was raining heavily. I was actually a little bit scared for the first time in a long time, but also excited but the power of what seemed to be happening all around and above where I was sleeping.
The rains and wind got heavier. The walls of the tent caved inwards and I was happy to have them weighted down by the weight of my panniers. Then water came in, from underneath I realised in the morning, as the ground had became swampy from the unrelenting rainfall.
I wish I’d looked out of my tent at the sky, but I was too disoriented and had visions of my head being frazzled off if I did so. I tried to sleep instead, and I must have drifted off somewhere between 4 and 5 am.
I woke up at around 8. My sleeping mat and bag were absorbing water. Light rain fell but the storm seemed to have cleared.
Outside the area id camped in was deserted. There were only two other groups close by, but they’d both vanished in the night or earlier in the morning. The trees looked disheveled and a few branches lay on the ground. As I packed up my things I was looking at a tree just a few metres behind my tent. That moment a large branch on the front of it cracked and fell to the ground. I paused for a second and wondered what damage it could have done if My tent was underneath it. Probably nothing long term, I thought, but it would have certainly hurt.
The gravel road back to the office had collapsed in the rain and picnic benches were marooned half sunk in puddles which had formed. I was glad to have camped in a flat clearing. It seemed to be one of the few areas which wasn’t affected.
A woman was in the office now and I paid $10 for the night. In some ways I was happy to have made it out in one, slightly damp piece. She gave me directions to a cafe on the edge of the town, Cascade Cafe, and I left.
The cafe was a large uninspiring looking diner next to a BP gas station. It was busy which was a good sign. I ate at the bar. A tv was on the wall in front of me and had the news on. 50 people murdered in a nightclub in Florida. Usually when I’ve heard news like this I’ve been far away from it, and it just reads like another tragic headline. Though Florida was still a long way away, it felt a little more closer to home this time, a bit bleaker and the fear a little more real.
After I’d eaten I went to the gas station next door. There was wifi which was useful since I’d had no service for the last day, plus I needed to charge the batteries which kept my phone running. I sat on a bench outside and tried to read what the weather was doing on the horizon. It looked uncertain. I spoke to one of a group of bikers who had come up from Alabama but they were heading south now and the weather was clear for them. I was heading north.
It was late by the time I started cycling, almost 1pm, but I had around 60 or 70 miles to cover. I was aiming for the town of Elkader where I’d camp. I then planned to find a motel, not far from it, the following night, where I could do nothing but relax for a day.
The first 15 miles were on unsurfaced road. Around Iowa if you stray just slightly from the main county highways you can end up on these roads which are just covered with gravel or small rocks. They are terrible to cycle on, especially going uphill, on a fully loaded touring bike.
When the gravel finally transitioned to actual road on the edge of the town of Farley I was able to relax, and gather momentum. I passed right through and stopped at the next town along instead. I think this was Dyersville.
As I travelled more north the towns seemed to be getting more pleasant. Bigger, well maintained houses, and quaint main streets which preserved some charm from some simpler time.
I stopped at a Goodwill to look at t-shirts. Then a BP. Whilst I had service I found a motel for the following day and called them on Skype. It was in the tiny town of Marquette, on the Mississippi River.
To make it to Elkader I’d need to cover another 40 miles, which was optimistic given it was almost 5 already. But once I’d refilled on water and iced coffee and some snacks I set off. I stared listening to music again, as I found listening to a podcast about soviet architecture or the design of the elevator wasn’t the most effective way to build speed.
The afternoon was spent on the on the route 13 – or the scenic River Bluffs Scenic Highway, as signs marked with an illustrated sign named it.
It was hilly and winding and a tough but beautiful ride. A long downhill eventually took me to Elkader, and just to the side of the road was the city campsite.
There was a booth with instructions on how to pay. It was $15 for a tent. There was no one around so I decided I’d try and go without paying until someone stopped me and I put up my tent away from the RV vehicles which occupied most of the campsite.
Half an hour or so went by and a woman came to collect my payment. I’d come to accept the around $15 to camp and have a shower was a fair amount. It seemed like a long time ago when I was just putting my tent wherever I wanted in Korea. This was definitely a different style of camping, but at times I preferred it. Though I missed the feeling of feeling like you’re getting away with something by being able to sleep a night on this earth and not pay anything for it, this was almost certainly a more relaxing experience.
I made a makeshift clothes line and was able to dry out all my my things from the rain the previous night. I put my tent up under a picnic shelter, just in case a storm hit again.
Map
