Going off route !

Jul 26 - Cumberland WI to Interstate State Park near St Croix Falls WI:  58.6 miles + 9 miles in Interstate Park

Interstate park, Sunset view from potholes trail

Side note: It seems that there is often something that we need to borrow when we get to camp.  After borrowing a hammer in order to get our tent stakes into the ground, Heather went off through the campground in search of a can opener.  She met a fellow adventurer who is currently undergoing treatment for colon cancer and is traveling, raising money for cancer research: see http://gofundme.com/crusingforcancer.

There is nothing like a down day to rejuvenate the legs!  My bike has also had a little extra attention, and is well oiled and ready to go. And, its going to be a great day, weather-wise, albeit a little on the warm side, with forecast temperatures in the mid 80s.

Today is also Rapha's Womens 100K challenge: http://pages.rapha.cc/womens100.  So I want get at least 63 miles in today to qualify for my patch.

The 'official' Adventure Cycling Association "Northern Tier" route goes through Osceola, Wisconsin before crossing the border to Minnesota. However, we need to reach a bike shop to deal with Heather's broken spoke and rear derailleur adjustment today, and so we opt to divert our route to St. Croix Falls, about 9 miles northeast of Osceola. We've decided to skip the Minneapolis/St. Paul spur, and intersect the northwesterly-bound Northern Tier route only a few miles from St. Croix Falls, saving at least one day if not two.  We're city girls, but our experience thus far is that big cities are a pain with a loaded touring bike unless you get a hotel room and can leave at least your gear there so you don't have to worry about it. We decide that we'll skip this big city, and focus on sending more time maybe in the smaller city of Fargo, or at some point later in the trip.

The landscape is almost all big farms, lots of corn everywhere. The exception is a seemingly interminable area of wetlands where for about 2 miles of winding road, there are so many small bugs that I can only breathe through my nose, and even then, I manage to inhale quite a few of the creatures. They are splatting on my protective eyeglasses and my face and arms, and everywhere else, though I don't notice those parts so much. 

I make good time to the town of Avery, where I eagerly stop at a Subway for a full footlong of real vegetables and possibly real chicken, and lots of avocado.  Really messy.

More importantly, at the Subway, I run into a fellow cyclist - its easy to pick us out when we're wearing spandex, sweaty, and clumping around in cleated cycling shoes.  This one is definitely a roadie - at least today. We get to chatting, and he joins me at my table next to the window, where I am able to keep a very close eye on my bike and gear, perched just on the other side of the glass. His name is Dan Woll, he grew up in the town next door to where I live today, and he is a writer.  I definitely will be ordering a copy of his book of adventure stories: 

North of Highway Eight    by Dan Woll

The conversation is easy; he is a kindred spirit.  I'm very impressed to hear that Dan had been racing just the day before. He felt that he may have overexerted, and now he is recovering in Subway waiting for a lift home.  He had taken first in his age class (over 65) which he underplayed significantly;  I get the impression that he was in the running for an overall placing, and very keen to so. His racing team is sponsored by the St Croix Falls bike shop that Heather is headed to, and I need to say hi to Karen for him.   I'm very inspired by this man - he's very fit, keen to challenge himself, and yet very comfortable in his own skin.  I can imagine him as a mentor to many.  I am very sorry that he needs to go.

During our conversation, the usual "what route are you going?" question occurs.  I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but this is a frequent conversation point.  Often, the small towns that we pass through that are on my turn by turns is not enough to answer this question, and so this requires me to drag out my maps to figure out exactly where I am actually going.  Generally, "why are you going that way? you should do this instead..." is the response, with a questionable recommendation to go somewhere pretty but adding many miles, or more direct high-traffic road with no shoulder.  So I'm very wary of this question, but Dan provides a recommendation to take a bike path that is just up the road.  We've figured out that when a bike path is not utilized by the ACA maps, it's almost guaranteed to be gravel.  I've been missing a good gravel path since leaving the Erie Canal path, and I'm keen to try Dan's recommendation.

The bike path is indeed gravel, well-packed and fast; a real treat, mostly shaded from the mid-day sun, and passing through nice varied landscapes, including lily-covered ponds, and farmland.

 *This* is a fine gravel bike path

Trailside garden, showing off local flora, a solar-powered pump to provide water, and toilets.

At some point here, I receive a text from Heather that she's already at the bike shop.  Evidently she had a look at a map during a stop, saw how roundabout the ACA route was, and then ignored her ACA turn-by-turns altogether which went south to get to Avery, and then back north.  She took a straight line and cut off at least 20 miles.  

Eventually the bike path ends and now I am left to my own devices to get to St. Croix.  I keep missing the correct turn, and spend at least 3 miles going back and forth on the same road before eventually just turning on my battery-sucking iPhone maps application and leave it on to give me turn by turns until I'm on the right track.  I'm motoring along the highway into town, and I'm startled to see the turnoff for our target campground for tonight: Interstate Park.  Heather texts me that the bike shop is almost closed, she's ok and will see me at camp with her bike and food for dinner, "get a site in the southern part of the park."

OK.  The employees in the state park office are less keen to give me a site in that area. "Really? Are you sure? Maybe you want to check it out first ... there's only pit toilets in the south campground.... most cyclists pick the northern campground.  It's closer, and it has showers."  They've got a super cool board that has a map of the campground, with LEDs that indicate which sites are already taken.  As usual, I ask for a recommendation on the site, I don't care to go find one and then come back.

Interstate Park is gorgeous, and super hilly.  I've got a steep descent that eventually opens to a ravine side road with a stone wall between me and the incredible view of a gorge, including a paddleboat traveling up the river below. It's breathtaking.  One benefit of being on a bike is that one can stop in a lot of places to take photos that aren't very convenient for cars. This is one.

The south campground is truly a long ways, at the bottom of the ravine-side park, next to a boat launch, and is "primitive" including rust-colored, nasty-tasting well-water that is brought up using a hand pump.  There's a different sort of group here in this camp than our recent campgrounds.  We're surrounded by rooftop racks with kayaks and bikes, and a nearby camper is sharing NPR radio with all his neighbors. I borrow a mallet from a runner/cyclist neighbor.  We're missing the RV-ers;  the atmosphere is less gregarious, younger, more reserved.  No one comes over to ask what in the heck we are doing.

Interstate park ravine-side roadway

Once Heather arrives, I am released to go explore this park. We've only got one evening, and there is a lot here. I regret spending an extra night in Cumberland. If we'd known about this place, I would have chosen to spend a down day here instead.  There are two hikes that I definitely want to scope out, and a swim would be welcome as well.  

Hiking in bike shoes is not ideal. I've got mountain bike shoes which have are intended to be more walking-friendly than road bike shoes the metal cleats slip on rocks, despite being slightly recessed around the plastic lugs. My alternative footwear is my very sloppy croc sandals, even less pleasant.  I stash my bike in the woods near the trailhead of the first hike; its not especially pleasant, lots of mosquitoes, lots of bike-shoe-unfriendly up and down, and an obstructed view even at the highest point.  I abandon the second hike in favor of a swim in very muddy brown river water. 

After supper,  as the sun is setting, I opt to scope out the second "potholes" hike.  It is short, mostly level, ends in a terrific view of the ravine. 

A perfect way to end the day....

... and I got my Rapha patch miles in. :-)