In 1998 my friend, Eric, and I decided we’d like to ride the length of the Mississippi from St. Paul, MN to New Orleans (we had already ridden the portion from the headwaters in Northern Minnesota to St. Paul and figured we didn’t have to do that part again). As we were both still working and couldn’t take too much time off, we decided to do it in three stages, one a year.
Our friend and fellow cyclist from Michigan, Dave, and one of Eric’s friends, Jim (who wasn’t a long-distance cyclist but was in good shape) decided they wanted in on the adventure/challenge so the four of us headed out from St. Paul on a cloudy, somewhat foggy day, which cleared up as time passed. The ride started up and down small bluffs that gave us great views of the river and of downtown St. Paul and continued past Fort Snelling State Park.
We were about half-way to our first stop, Hastings (about 20 miles from St. Paul) when we heard a loud bang that sounded like a gunshot. It was not, however, a drive-by shooting but Dave’s front tube blowing out. Dave replaced the tube as the rest of us diligently watched (after all, what are friends for) and could not find anything in the tire itself that would have caused the tube to blow (always look for the cause of the flat inside the tire itself so whatever it was won’t cause another flat) so we rode on. A few miles later we heard another loud bang and found that Dave’s front inner tube had blown again, this time blowing a large hole in the tire. As we had no spare tires, which we never carry with us, Dave and Eric worked on jury-rigging the tire (Jim and I know enough to stay out of the way of two geniuses at work) with duct tape and zip-ties (see photo) and we managed to limp on to Hastings, where we got the tire and tube replaced.
After replacing the tire and tube we rode south and were able to pick up the Cannon Valley Trail at the small town of Welch and rode that to Red Wing, continuing south to our planned overnight at Frontenac State Park, arriving at dusk, later than we had planned because of the tire problem. It had been an 80-mile day and we showered, set up our tents (in the dark), and built a campfire. We were camped on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River and in the complete darkness, with no street lights around, the stars were incredibly bright and beautiful.
The next day we got our tents packed up, had breakfast at a local café, and continued south along Lake Pepin, a widening in the river that is approximately 2 miles wide and 21 miles long. It forms the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin and the ride along it and up and down the hills bordering it was challenging and exhilarating alternating between beautiful wooded valleys and stunning views of the lake. Lake Pepin is known as the birthplace of water-skiing, for those of you into trivia.
We crossed the Mississippi at Wabasha, MN and entered Nelson, Wisconsin, where, despite the coolness of the morning, we enjoyed some ice cream at the small Nelson Cheese Factory, which also sells great cheese, of course, but the ice cream was just too hard to resist. We spent that night camping at Merrick State Park, again enjoying a roaring campfire, the building of which Jim proved to be particularly adept.
On the road again the next morning we rode through the hills and valleys adjacent to the river, and ended the day at a campground in the small town of Reno, WI., arriving in time to set up our tents, shower, and make dinner in daylight. We even got to see a paddle wheel boat going upstream (photo of which is at the top of the story).
The next day we rode through “bluff country,” seeing several eagles soaring rather close to the ground, with large bluffs on one side of us, and headed for the Iowa border. We entered Iowa just north of New Albin, passing a sign bearing the state motto, “Iowa—You Make Me Smile.” But were determined not to give in to the suggestion.
Our frowns didn’t last long, however, as the day was sunny and warm and the day’s ride, which was a mixture of fairly severe climbs and exhilarating descents into river towns, was pleasant, despite the numerous climbs. By the end of the day, however, we hated to see that a town was coming knowing that it would mean a descent into the town and a climb back out of it. I remember commenting that I thought Iowa was flat and wishing we could come upon some of the flat terrain for just a couple of miles!
My wish was granted, at least somewhat, the next day as the road stayed in the river valley with only moderate hills to climb, which made for even nicer riding. As we ended the fifth day of the ride we were coasting a long downhill heading toward Marquette when we passed the Effigy Mounds National Park in Harper’s Ferry, IA, and wanted to stop and visit it but it had closed for the day. We made it to our planned overnight stop, Marquette, and, not being able to find camping sites, ended up at a small motel next to a riverboat casino which offered a good buffet at a good price, which Dave, being somewhat frugal, appreciated. The small motel seemed like a palace to us after four nights of camping and five days of riding, and we all slept soundly. The next morning the lady who ran the motel (Nancy?), after hearing we had missed the Effigy Mounds insisted on lending us her car so we could make the six-mile trip back up the hill to visit them. She handed us the car keys and said, “Enjoy it and stay as long as you want.” Her generosity once again showed us how great people are and we realized that Iowa had indeed made us smile! The Effigy Mounds are a collection of mounds built by pre-contact American Indians between 500 and 1200 B.C. and some were built in the shape of bears, birds, and reptiles. We enjoyed a short stay there but had to get on our way but would have liked to have more time. We drove back to our motel, stopping to fill Nancy’s car’s gas tank, returned to our bikes, and got back on the road.
We were on the last day of the ride, which we had planned would end in Galena, IL, and rode through large hills and low valleys. The views of the Mississippi were spectacular and the valleys were serene and pastoral, with many farms dotting the landscape.
Around lunchtime we pulled into the tiny town of Balltown and had lunch at Breitbach’s Bar, the oldest bar in Iowa (or so they claim). The lunch was good and we spent time talking to the locals, then set off again.
From Balltown we rode to Dubuque and stopped by several driveways to ask some of the local people what hotels were in town. Each of them told us to stay at the Julien Inn and said we should just follow the road we were on to Main St. and we couldn’t miss it (they could not know of our proclivity for missing things). We did find the inn and got rooms, showered up, and walked to the Shot Tower restaurant for a nice meal and, since it was our last night on the road, one or two drinks (maybe more– but what happens in Dubuque stays in Dubuque).
We then, the next morning (late the next morning), started for the last leg of the trip, Galena, IL., where we were to meet our rides back to Minnesota. We had to cross another bridge, this one wide and narrow, to get into Illinois and once in Galena had to ask directions to downtown as we had taken back streets to get off a busy highway. A nice lady tried to explain the route to us but figured out it would be easier to just lead us there in her car. The route included a very steep descent at the bottom of which was a stop sign that was really hard to stop for, but for the most part we did manage to at least slow down for it.
We got to downtown unscathed, met up with our rides, had a nice meal at an Italian restaurant, and, after packing up our bikes and gear, started the drive home.
As always, we had taken our time, stopping to enjoy the sites, small fruit stands, ice cream shops, campgrounds, small towns, and most of all the fine people we met along the way. We figure what we experience along the way is more important than how fast we can get to the end.
