We've entered some sort of weird dimension in time and space. We just get on our bikes in the morning, each day the same as the last, and ride and ride and ride until we get to our next motel. Most likely, a Best Western. All the while, racking up miles like a frequent flier. This week: Monday-71, Tuesday-112, Wednesday-104, Thursday-88. It's kind of crazy. In what world is this normal?
Dave Goltermann rode with us today. He's as big a goofball as we are. The miles went by quickly as we laughed and made up silly scenarios of what was happening on this wacky tour. Our first SAG was at a lovely waterfall setting called Trout Run Creek.
This struck us as extremely funny.
After hundreds of miles of painful, bumpy roads--
a warning sign?
In case we still weren't sure.
A friendly Lutheran steeple.
I should start a new blog:
This cemetery only allowed flowers in raised planters.
Very pretty, peaceful, and tidy.
I bet it makes mowing a breeze.
Another blog in the making?
Always happy for a bike path.
Gettin' crafty with bike parts.
We stopped at a visitor center at the end of the
bike path and just before the 2nd SAG.
There we met Alice, the great-horned owl.
She had fallen from her nest 17 years ago as a baby.
Outside our lunch-stop-bistro in the little
town of Houston. Pronounced Hyoo-ston, or
Who-ston. Never How-ston I was instructed.
One of my favorite parts of the day is
stopping for a leisurely lunch chat.
I'm getting a pretty good collection of these.
As a little kid, I looked forward to state border signs.
Today was no different.
Couldn't help thinking of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
Behind the Best Western River Front.
We stopped on the tall blue bridge spanning the Mississippi River to watch a barge the size of a football field pass under us. The river was high from all the recent flooding, I'm told, so the captain was quite close to us. We signaled for him to honk. I jumped it blared so loudly. I'm thinking my hair blew backwards, too. Yikes. Next, came a small boat you might pull a water skier behind. Dave woo-woo'ed signally him to honk, too. In comparison, it was wimpy and weak. Dave gave him the thumbs down. In defiance, the skipper raised his shirt and showed us his fat, pasty white belly. Ah, life on the Mississippi.