My alarm on my phone went off at 6:30 AM. I really wanted to stay in bed. I definitely didn't want to get on the bike and ride all day again. But I had no choice. In looking back on the trip for this year, I noticed overall it had a dark tone. In analyzing the situation I attribute this to several things.
First and foremost, it is getting harder and harder for me to physically endure these trips. As much as I love my Road Star, for future trips I may have to look at getting a different bike that would make it easier for this old body to sit in the saddle for long periods of time. If I don't get a new bike then at the least I need to make some changes to the ergonomics. My driver's back rest that I made has gotten worn to the point where it no longer gives me support in the proper place. I think I need to purchase an adjustable model to allow me to better dial in the fit. Also, several years ago I switched out my handlebar risers to bring the handgrips higher and closer to my body. While it sounded good on paper and feels good around town, I think that this is causing me to hunch when I ride which is causing the extreme pain in my shoulders. I may swap my risers back to the stock ones and see if that improves the long distance comfort.
That might explain the physical, which is the larger of the two factors. The second is the mental. On this trip I really didn't have a clear destination. There weren't a whole lot of fun roads or beautiful scenery to look at. Stringing multiple days together without a real purpose, and nothing to look at, is mentally straining. Combine that with my physical pain and I was having a hard time to get motivated to get on the bike to go home. Really, the only reason I didn't take the day off and spend the day resting was that I was scheduled to work the next day.
So I forced myself to get out of bed. I got ready and packed my bags, then walked down to the lobby to get some breakfast. The continental breakfast at this hotel was actually pretty decent. I ate a big meal and watched CNN report of the political crisis du jour.
I checked out of the hotel and loaded my bike. I gave strong consideration to abandoning my original route and taking the fast way home. If I really pushed it, I could be home in about 7.5 hours.
However, my route for the morning was going to be the most scenic of the whole trip. I decided that I may feel like crap, but I'd feel even crappier if I completely bailed on my plans. Kind of like the marathon runner pushing through the pain at mile 20; if he were to give up now there wouldn't have been any point to the pain endured so far.
So I hit the road and headed out towards my original planned route, which was to follow the east side of the Mississippi river all the way up to LaCrosse, WI. Crossing the bridge on I-74, I got off the interstate and started following highway 67.
Traffic was moving a little slow, which I mostly attributed to it being prior to 8 AM. I putted along and after a while it lightened, but I never did make good time for most of the morning.
For a few hours I leisurely made my way along the river. Sometimes I could see the river, but often times I was far enough away that it wasn't visible. Still, this was the most interesting riding that I'd experienced on this trip.
I went through a number of quaint small towns that a person wouldn't see taking the main arteries through Iowa.
Dubuque was the largest town I would ride through this morning. I stopped to snap a picture of the suspension bridge over the river.
The terrain became much hillier, and along with that the wind really started blowing. However the sun was out and the temps hadn't gotten too warm yet.
At least this morning there were interesting sights to stop and snap a photo.
After riding for a few miles I was stopped for road construction. While we waited I got off the bike and stretched. Some guys in a truck behind me started yelling, and I feared the worst. Thankfully they were yelling because they saw my map slip out of the pocket of my vest. That would have been bad. I thanked them and after a few minutes of waiting we were back on our way.
In the town of Guttenberg my map wasn't too clear on what direction I should go. Or perhaps my map was perfectly clear but the road signs weren't. I had even written down some directions that I tried to follow, but I found myself turned around. I rode around the little town for a few minutes and finally took what I believed was the correct road, which was supposed to be county road 56.
In retrospect, I did indeed leave Guttenberg on county road 56, however about four miles north of town I missed where 56 branched off to the right. I stayed on the road not knowing that I was now on Clayton Road heading west.
I rode for a while, and it seemed that the terrain was flattening out a bit. At this point I started to suspect that perhaps I'd made a wrong turn, but I couldn't find any landmarks to use to re-orient myself, so I just kept riding.
A few miles further down the road I came across the town of Garnavillo. Now armed with some knowledge of where I was located, I pulled over to check my map and figure out if I was on the right track or not. Sure enough, I wasn't. I had taken a wrong turn and now was quite a bit farther west than I had planned.
I sat and debated my options. I could ride back the way I came and hopefully find the original road I wanted to take. This was tempting as on the map the original road looked quite interesting. The problem with this option was my map didn't have enough detail to tell me how far back county road 56 was located. Another option I entertained was to head north out of this town on highway 52 until it junctioned with highway 18, which I then could take back east and get back on my original route. A third option I also considered was to bag all of my original plans and turn west on highway 18, taking the shortest route home.
The first option was the most scenic. The second option was shorter than the first and still allowed me to maintain most of my original plans. The third option was the shortest, but would have meant accepting defeat at some level. Had I been feeling better physically and mentally I would have selected the first option. At this point I wasn't yet ready to accept option 3 either. So I selected the second and headed north on highway 52.
I rode along, came to highway 18, turned east and found my way back to the river. At the junction where highway 18 junctioned with county road 56 which was my original route, I had another dilemma. The 56 looked very twisty, full of turns and like it would have been difficult to stay on course. I could have seen myself missing a turn and taking another trip in the wrong direction. Also, it didn't look like there was much in the way of towns on my original course, and I was in need of gas and a restroom break. On any other day this would have been a great road to explore via motorcycle, but given the circumstances of the day it wasn't very appealing.
Instead I looked at my map and realized I could cross the river into Wisconsin and I would be at Prarie Du Chien. I had been through that town before so I knew gas would be available. From there I could follow the road up the LaCrosse. I rode that route back in 2010 on my trip to Wisconsin.
I was now at the point where I was mentally spent. The journey had lost its lustre. I just wanted to be home. So I opted to modify my route again and cross into Wisconsin. I stopped for a moment to chat with my brother via text. Our band was playing the next weekend at LifeLight 2014 and we had some logistical things that needed working out. Then I pulled back onto the road and crossed the river.
In Prarie Du Chein I stopped for gas and a restroom break. I was hungry as well, but LaCrosse was just 60 miles up the road and there were more food options there so I opted to grab a root beer and just keep riding. The more miles I put behind me, the fewer remained in front of me. I took some more Ibuprofen to try and blunt the pain then pressed on.
I had ridden highway 35 back in 2010 on my trip to Wisconsin. It's a beautiful road as it winds along the west side of the Mississippi. Unfortunately on this day I was past caring about the scenery and was all about making good time to get home.
I found myself behind a pickup pulling a loaded trailer 30 mph below the speed limit. Because of the curves, most of this stretch of road had a double solid line which meant no passing. When I would come across a passing zone there was enough oncoming traffic that I wasn't able to safely pass. After many miles of this, there was a sizeable line of cars behind me. At long last a passing zone opened up with enough room for me to get around the truck. Sure enough, once I was in front of the truck I looked in my rearview mirror to see him turn onto a side road.
As I approached LaCrosse I started thinking about lunch spots. When I had come through town a few years earlier I stopped at a food trailer in a parking lot and had the best gyro sandwich I've ever eaten. That sounded pretty good, so I decided once I hit town to take a detour of the main route and see if I could find that vendor again.
I rode through downtown, but was unable to find the trailer. Bummer. So I started searching for an alternate spot to feast. I wanted somewhere I could sit for a few minutes but at the same time somewhere I could be in and out relatively quickly. I saw a Taco Bell and decided that would do. Not fancy or exotic, but I was well past that point mentally anyway.
I relaxed in the air conditioning for half an hour. My body wanted to sit much longer, but my brain just wanted to get home. The brain won. I went back out to the bike, lathered myself up with sunscreen and popped more painkillers.
I-90 west of LaCrosse is very scenic, for about 10 miles. It comes up from the Mississippi river valley and cuts through the foothills. After that, though, it gets painfully boring. I-90 across southern Minnesota is about the dullest stretch of pavement I've experienced. Unfortunately due to the proximity of where I live, I have to travel this slab fairly often. Perhaps that's why it's so dull to me.
Approaching Albert Lea, I started to have a crisis. My shoulder pain was beyond "pretty bad" and was border line excruciating. It was probably a sustained 8 on a 10 scale. I really started having serious doubts about whether or not I could finish this trip on this day. I had 180 more miles to go, but the way my body felt it seemed like 1800.
I started running through all the things I would have to do if I stopped and spent the night in Albert Lea. It was about 3 PM. I would have to find (and pay for) a hotel. I would have some additional meal expenses that I didn't budget. I would have to call in to work and use an additional day of PTO I hadn't planned on. But worst of all I would probably not be recovered enough to reduce the amount of pain I would likely experience the next day, so I would have expended the extra effort and expense for naught. I decided to press on.
I did stop for gas and an iced tea in Albert Lea. I also downed some more ibuprofen. I'm not sure the medicine was doing anything to alleviate the pain of my shoulder, but then again perhaps the pain would have been much worse had I not been loaded up on it? I don't know and probably won't ever know. However I definitely have to find a solution for this issue if I want to keep touring via motorcycle in the future.
All fuelled up, I opted to try and make it all the way back to Sioux Falls before stopping again. At interstate speeds this would be pressing my mileage a bit. The remaining 180 miles would be easily doable on a single tank of gas at highway speeds, however above 65 mph an additional jet on my carburetor opens up which drops my mileage. Stopping, though, would increase the length of the trip. Even though it probably would only add 10 minutes or so, I was at the point where that was too much.
I finished the ride through southern Minnesota. It was everything I expected it to be: dull and uninspiring. I hit my reserve tank about 40 miles from Sioux Falls, which meant I would be really cutting it close fuel wise. After crossing the border into South Dakota I debated stopping for gas in Brandon, but decided to risk it and press on. However, when the speed limit rose to 75 mph I maintained the more modest speed I had been holding in order to preserve the few precious drops of petrol left in the tank.
I made it back into town, and stopped at a gas station about a mile from my house. My tank holds 5.5 gallons, and I filled up and put in 5.4 gallons. So I definitely was on the edge. But I made it.
After filling up, I rode the final mile home and few times in my life was I ever so glad to be done riding.
See the summary of the trip...
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018