Tuesday, June 14th
I was slow to get going in the morning. Making the most of the 11am checkout time, the room I had, and the internet.
My stuff packed up, I went to the shop to buy doughnuts and coffee and sat with them by the pool in the shade of the trees in the last hour I had.
I looked at my route for the day. 60 miles would be realistic, given the time and the heat. Knowing there might be some thunderstorms ahead, and that I kind of wanted to break from camping for another night, I contacted a Warm Showers host in La Crosse, the largest city on the Wisconsin side of the river for some distance. I got a response quickly – all good, and so I set off.
I crossed immediately into Wisconsin, probably leaving Iowa behind now for good.
The bridge crossed over an island, before terminating in Prairie du Chien, a larger, more touristy town than Marquette, on the other side. Immediately I veered left to head North on Great River Road, it would take me all the way to La Crosse.
It was another scenic ride. To the right were large bluffs, mound shaped mini-mountains mostly covered with trees. To my left a train track on which freight trains regularly coasted along, carrying either crude oblong cylinders filled with (I was told) crude oil or shipping containers.
The road clung tight to the river meaning it was more or less flat for the entire 60 miles, some winding inclines, but nothing compared to the hills i’d spent the last few days on. I kept up a pace of 13mph and watched the distance add up.
Each town I passed through had a sign announcing it’s name and population. Most were under 250 people. Sometimes you could see evidence that that number had been adjusted. I stopped at one, Lynxville, at a shack selling hot dogs – The Dawg House, as I thought it might be one of the few opportunities to eat.
On the roof a demented sausage character squirted ketchup on to it’s head, wrapped in an American flag, with a look of concentration on it’s face. I got a chilli dog and fries and sat and talked with a local couple whilst I ate.
Someone in the queue explained to me how the bluffs were formed. Something to do with the drift of icebergs. I need to find out more.
I made one other stop, at a gas station in Genoa, and made it to La Crosse, 60 miles, at 5pm. I went to a coffee shop briefly then headed to the house of my hosts, Susan and Scott.
I was greeted by Scott on the corner of their road. He showed me to their garage beside the house where I stored my bike. Inside was a tandem which he sometimes rode with his wife, Susan. I told him about my trip as I took the panniers off my bike and we headed inside, joined by another guest, Anne, who was cycling back up to her home in Minneapolis.
The house was a huge beautiful Victorian building which they’d spent some time restoring and decorating over the years. The place was ornately finished and decorated in a period way which made me feel like I’d entered a grand old hotel I didn’t quite belong in in my sweaty cycling clothes. But it also felt like home.
Susan was a genealogist and had traced her family back to the 1200’s. In the house were many old black and white photos, some, I think, were distant relatives.
Scott lived in Holland when he was younger and had cycled around Europe, as well as a cross country tour in the states in the 70s. he showed me an old colour photo, slightly faded, of him and a friend at some viewpoint.
I joined them downstairs for food. Mexican lasagne, local beer, and brownies. I flipped through a few cycling magazines Scott subscribed to.
Outside a storm which had been looming finally hit. Lightning, thunder, heavy rain. I was glad to be inside and eating ice-cream.
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