America at ten miles per hour
(part 1) 

Summer of 1993

Google map of this trip

Trip Itinerary

BELLINGHAM BEFORE I LEFT
When I requested two months of leave from the job, my boss jokingly said, "we pinned your note to the dart board."  Kidding aside, he has always been willing to make arrangements so I could have the time off for bike travel. 

This was my second trip across America on a bicycle.  My first cross country tour was in 1991. I am a janitor, maybe not a real high status job, but it allows flexibility in scheduling.  Quality of life means more to me than income and status. 

DAY 1, SKAGIT VALLEY, TWO GOOD DEEDS CANCEL ONE ANOTHER
Someone leaned out the window of a passing car to say my jacket had fallen off the back of my bike.  They drove back to pick it up for me.  As they went back to look, they couldn't find it.  A second carload had stopped to pick it up and bring it to me. When the first carload realized this, they drove up beside me to say, "There are at least two honest people in this world."  I tried to thank everyone. 

DAY 2, NORTH CASCADES PASS, FUN ENERGY
I put her in low gears, tune my radio to the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation station out of Vancouver, BC.  It's available, even deep in the mountains, from the Select-A-Tenna I have on my bike. 

Riding up long hills, I kick back and listen to "songs of the sea;" a CBC Radio special.  It's an all afternoon concert of folk tunes with vistas of snow clad peaks and waterfalls slowly passing by.   Before long, the concert is over.  It's the top of the pass.

This form of fitness is much nicer than watching the boring display on a treadmill.

FLOWER POWER, GORGE DAM
Flower pots line the walkway into Gorge Dam powerhouse where an observation deck shows off generators.  Hillside behind the powerhouse is a famous rock garden.  Seattle City Light, which owns the powerhouse, has seized this opportunity to make a tourist attraction. 

If City Light can get it's energy from a flower garden, so can I.  Things I do, which keep me healthy, are enjoyable. 
Some times I do aerobics to the music.  It can be like dancing with out the cigarette smoke of most bars.

DAY 3-6, GOING TOWARD SPOKANE, GLOOMY
It rained all day from Grand Coulee Dam to Spokane. Even with a good rain coat, I gradually got soaked.  Thinking I would stay in a motel, the first one was full. 

As the rain started to subside, I set up camp at Riverside State Park in Spokane.  Starting to lay things out to dry, I looked at the sky fearing more rain was in store.  As I filled out the campground registration slip, my ball point pen didn't write.  It was waterlogged.  The ink floated on bubbles of water so it couldn't reach the tip. 

I found a stubby pencil at the registration booth. Remembering news about 1993 flooding in the midwest, I thought I may have picked the wrong year to cross the country.  The possibility of ending my trip in Pullman, WA., where my sisters live, crossed my mind.  If it kept raining each day, I thought I might end my trip and go back to work in Bellingham. 

DAY 7-9, 20TH HIGH SCHOOL CLASS REUNION WITH LESS BAGGAGE
Sun came out as I rode through Palouse hills to Pullman from Spokane.  Pullman is the town I grew up in.  As I rode into town, a banner along the road read, "Welcome home class of 73."  It was my 20th high school class reunion.  I bicycled to the reunion. 

Some people go on crash diets struggling to loose weight for the 20th reunion, but they still arrive in cars that weigh several tons.  I arrived by bicycle and was able to eat like a pig with out worry.  They invented a new award just for me; "most unique transportation to the event." 

DAY 10, LEWISTON, IDAHO, R.V.s AND DUCT TAPE
Retired couple in a recreational vehicle, saw me at a state park near Lewiston, Idaho.  They had everything including a satellite dish.  Panniers on my bike were made from waste paper baskets held to the rack with duct tape. The couple in the R.V. thought my duct tape was an interesting set up.  Then the husband whispered into my ear, "If you want to know the truth, this R.V. is held together with duct tape also." 

DAY 11-13, GOING TOWARD MISSOULA, MONTANA
Another cyclist stepped into the cafe in Powell, Idaho.  We decided to ride together as far as Missoula, Montana where he would head south and I would head east.  As we started up the long grade to Lolo pass a bright sun filled the air. He peeled off his shirt and revealed a nice body.  He had nothing on under the shirt, but tight fitting spandex shorts. Peddling up the grade we revealed, to one another, stories from our pasts.  He turned out to be a Vietnam Veteran who was now over 40.  For someone over 40 he had quite a physique. Most people in their forties look a bit more sagging.  The benefits of cycling can be quite noticeable, especially as years go by. 

We both happened to be camping at a KOA, in Missoula.  On my way off into town he ask where I was going.  I mentioned I was heading off to see what Missoula's gay bar is like.  I felt I could reveal this since he seemed like an open minded person, even though he wasn't gay.  I mentioned that, "I was on the edge of gay culture."  He said he had guessed I was "gay leaning" from the start.  I was intrigued how he could guess.  "Maybe he sensed something."  Anyway, I headed off to the bar. 

JUST ANOTHER WATERING HOLE
The Missoula bar was kind of dull, but not bad.  It had a nice dance floor, but no one was dancing; typical. 

I mentioned that I had bicycled from Bellingham, Washington to a few people at the bar.  Folks were slightly friendly, but somewhat disinterested.  After a few minutes, I decided I had seen the bar and headed back to the campground.

Back at the KOA, my cycling neighbor was surprised to see me back so soon.  He said, "I thought you would be drinking up a storm and partying out on the town."  I said, "I just wanted to see what the bar looked like and wasn't really into the bar scene."  Then a woman came over, from another campsite. The three of us sat around a lantern eating popcorn.  We talked, laughed and had a great time before going to our campsites for bed.  It was probably more fun than the bar. 

A BICYCLE TOURING ORGANIZATION HEAD QUARTERED IN MISSOULA
Who needs to go to the bar when one can visit a bike shop.  All those healthy bodies with nice legs hanging around getting their bikes fixed.  I have often thought they should make bike shops into social centers.  A cookie plate, or something, might get people mixing in good conversation.  A candy bowl might bring together all that "eye candy." Most of the people in bike shops aren't necessarily gay, but they sure are interesting. 

Bike Centennial (now Adventure Cycling Association) isn't a bike shop or a bar.  The place is a national bike touring organization, head quartered in Missoula.  They do have a cookie plate.  It sits in the lounge where cyclists can relax and exchange travel stories.  Now, if they just had a hot tub.

MARK IN HISTORY
The person in charge of historic archives, at Bike Centennial, wanted to get my picture.  They have a special curtain to pose in front of.  It's an official portrait.  I hear they made portraits of over 400 cyclists in the Summer of 93. 

The big radio antenna, on my bike, caught the eye of the photographer.   He acted some what unimpressed, saying, "in this job you pretty much see everything." 

DAY 17, LIVINGSTON, MONTANA WHERE BIKE TOURING IS A NOVELTY
Owner of a cafe in Livingston Montana was impressed with the idea of riding a bicycle across America.  He had his staff make a cookie with the logo of a bicycle in the frosting.  Before I ate that cookie, the staff stood with me in front of the cafe for a picture. This might be what they call a warm Montana welcome. 

HICK TOWN RADIO
Finding myself on MAIN STREET in another small town. Dust devils blowing down the street.  Radio reports  today's hog market prices.  After ten minutes, it's time for the cattle and bull prices.  I decide to turn it off, but that means missing today's hay and barley prices. 

In Forsyth, MT. There's a hotel called the HOWDY HOTEL. 

DAY 23, NORTH DAKOTA, TOO FAST IT'S JUST A BIG BLUR
I camped at Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  On the way into the park, I paid the ranger in the booth.  A car going out the other way past the booth stopped long enough for the driver to roll down the window and yell.  "I paid my money and I didn't see one damn buffalo!"  "Not a one!"  "What a rip-off!"  Then the car sped away.

The ranger turned to me and said, "that happens a lot"' "Someone does the quick drive through, never gets out of their car.  They expect to see a buffalo after paying their money like this is a vending machine.  "Buffalo are not always on display."  "They are often in back country." Then he saw my bike and said, "now that's really the way to see the park." 

I  took my time and was able to see prairie dog towns, interesting geology and yes, I did see a buffalo, but that was just icing on the cake.

BIKING BRINGS DISTINCTION
When on a bicycle, it is hard to stop at a rest stop, in the Dakotas, with out answering people's questions.  One person said he was writing an article for a travel magazine. He photographed me many times and said I had a good chance of appearing in an article. 

DAY 24, GLEN ULLEN, ND.
As I sat by myself at a cafe in Glen Ullen, North Dakota, someone signaled me to join them at their table.  This rarely happens in Bellingham restaurants, unless one already knows someone, but small towns, across the Midwest and Northeast, are different.  Total strangers invited me to their tables, at least when they saw my bike. They would ask where I was biking from.  When I told them they would say, "Woe-be- Jesus!!!!!"  They weren't necessarily religious, just astonished. 

"Glen Ullen is sort of a funny town," said the man who invited me to his table.  "More millionaires than other towns in the area, also more burglaries."  For some reason Glen Ullen was suffering more burglaries than nearby towns.  Local folks wondered why.  He went on to explain that people in the town were cliquish.  "There was sort of an inside group that cold shoulders outsiders."  "The locals were also meticulous house keepers; not a speck of dust out of place." 

Just then, several more joined our table.  They were shaking heads saying, "this is typical of Glen Ullen."   A town meeting had just taken place, with county law enforcement officials, to discuss the burglary problem. Typical of Glen Ullen, practically no one showed up at the meeting.  They figured, "everyone was behind their closed curtains; probably watching TV.  One of the people at our table was the local police deputy.  She seemed a bit cynical.  police/community relations were not the best here.  "Not showing up for a meeting was sort of typical of this town." 

As they continued to discuss that towns ins and outs, I was all ears.  Maybe I have this all wrong, but it sounded like one burglary suspect was the son of a prominent towns person.  There was pressure from some people to forget that case.  It also sounded like a new comer, in town, had identified a suspect, but towns people didn't take him seriously.  They would say, "what could he possibly know about solving this problem."  He just moved here 4 years ago."  "He can't know anything."  This kind of situation made the job of the police officer more difficult.  Everyone pointing the finger to someone else to solve the problem while protecting their own interests.

DAY 27, STILL ALONG I-94. BREAKING ISOLATION
More questions about my bike came from a friendly passerby at a rest stop Near Fargo, North Dakota.  Before we talked very long, he mentioned there was a nice recreation center in Fargo.  He noted that it was a nice place to see naked men.  I said, "I had something to look forward to." "The hot tub in Bismarck was sure nice."  I tried out several steam rooms and hot tubs along my route; a great way to relax after peddling 70 miles. 

Then he ask, "are you gay?" I explained, about being on the edge of gay culture. "Enjoyment comes from looking at, and talking to, people places of nudity.  He said, "I am the same way."  "Funny to find someone similar, especially out here in the grasslands of North Dakota."  "looking and talking is nice and these days one doesn't dare jump into bed with someone, what with AIDS and all that stuff going around."  I agreed and said, "sometimes it's nice to go to a sauna or hot spring where people are basically friendly even though most of the people aren't necessarily gay."
"Just being able to relax and have good conversation is a rare treat in this scattered society." 

He mentioned the many towns he had been to where a public sauna or YMCA was the best place to learn about the area from the local people.  "It was about the only place in town where people relaxed, gathered around and actually took time to visit."  I agreed and said, "it can be one of the few places where people get outside their cars, turn off the TV and start talking to one another." 

He described the last few times he had been in a gay bar;  "everything stunk."  "I had to go home and do laundry, just to get rid of the cigarette smoke."  "Bars (gay or straight) aren't very good places to get to know people at." "People are often too drunk for conversation, or the loud music drowns it out."  Then he added, "What conversation there is, it is quite superficial."  I said, "I like going to places where you can actually get to know other people and I didn't feel I could really talk to people in the bar." Then I added, "I might be real strange, but I find intelligent conversation more appealing than quick sex." 

Then he ask if I had met many interesting bicyclists on the way.  I said I had met a lot, but most of them were going the opposite direction from me.  "About all we could do was wave at one another in passing."  "Even when we stop it's hard to hear conversation along side a road."  "Traffic noise drowns it out."  "I sometimes can't even hear my own radio turned full blast."  "It sits on my handle bars, but all those cars and trucks make a lot more noise than people realize."  "There are a lot of things, in our mobile society, which sabotage people's ability to relax and communicate with one another." 

Then I mentioned the cookie plate, at Bike Centennial's Missoula headquarters, that people gather around.

As we talked, he nervously looked at his watch and headed back to his car saying, "Speaking of time and not being able to talk, I've got to go."  "It was nice visiting with you." 

FARGO FIREWORKS
What does it sound like when one million fire crackers all go off at once?  I found out.  Like the sound of a jet engine taking off.  That powerful rushing sound. 

The million fire cracker string was one of many things happening in grandstands next door.  I was camped at the county fairgrounds of Fargo, ND.  There happened to be a convention of fireworks manufacturers in town; 15 companies strong.  I had a ring side seat to their grand finally with out even planning it. 

DAY 32-33 ST. CLOUD, MN. SURREALISTIC
Visited a friend in Saint Cloud, Minnesota.  I met her by correspondence from Bellingham.  We are both part of a wild network of artists called the Mail Art Network.  Her name was Lavonna and she pleaded with me to drop by. Saint Cloud was on my way, so why not?  She and her husband showed me around and we had a great gab feast. 

At 4 in the morning, while I was sleeping upstairs in their house, the sound of a mournful siren awakened me.  Its loud whale went out into the stormy night.  I looked out the window, but couldn't see much.  Then I heard a knock on the door. Lavonna said, "we had better go to the basement."  "It's a tornado."  All sleepy, we found our way down the basement stairs.  A portable radio was full of instructions on how to survive tornados.  It also mentioned that they couldn't tell if this was really a tornado or not. The nearest weather radar, in Minneapolis, had just been knocked out of service by lightning.  I was getting my Midwest experience.  Soon the all clear was given and we went back upstairs.

Lavonna described a fear of tornados that went back to her childhood.  Her mother took the kids to a place that had been hit.  To make an impression on the kids the mother didn't explain very much.  Lavonna remembered the experience as being surrealistic.  She saw nothing but the foundation of a house.  Everything else was gone.  Everything except the grand piano.  A grand piano standing in the middle of the devastation, as if undisturbed.  Her fear of tornados dated from that day on. 

Next morning, I sent a card from Lavonna's house to another mail art friend in Bellingham describing the experience.  My friend misread the card and thought we were hiding in the basement from a "tomato warning." 

GIANT POTHOLES, some over 40 feet deep, carved by glaciers into granite on the Minnesota Wisconsin border. They were formed during the ice ages when this area was an outlet for the Great Lakes.  Torrents of water caused large boulders to spin like drills. 

Sweet smell of a corn oil plant filled the air.  Bluffs visible across the river.  I relaxed with young factory workers at a hot tub in the campground.  A riverboat, ablaze with lights, made its way down the Mississippi River even though the river wasn't real wide here.  (Mississippi starts in northern Minnesota.)  The sound from a jazz band, at a nearby bar, filled the campground.  Redwing Minnesota, is a "river town." 

DAY 37, WISCONSIN RAILS TO TRAILS
Many old railroad beds have been converted into bike paths.  Some even go through tunnels.  There is a mile long tunnel on the Sparta to Elroy trail.  I walked my bike through it in the pitch black.  Water was dripping all around me and I saw nothing but the dancing lights of other cyclists coming toward me. 

It took three years to carve out this mile long tunnel by hand.  Tunnel goes through soft dolomite rock. It was built, over 100 years ago, by pick ax.  Once served the railroad.  Now serves as a bicycle tunnel. 

AROUND THE WORLD BUT...
I met a bunch of retired folks on mopeds.  Buzzing along at no more than 30 mph, they were exploring back roads of Wisconsin.  One of them said, "I have traveled around the world twice in my life time, but didn't really start seeing things until I slowed down and started riding a moped." 

Rolling Wisconsin countryside offers many peaceful county roads. 

DAY 39, MADISON
Two gardeners, on the University of Wisconsin campus, put down their tools when they saw me.  They were full of suggestions for places to see around Madison.  One of them laid his ear muffs on my bike.  I discovered them, several blocks later, as I was exploring the campus.  The gardeners were grateful when I returned them. 

Like ideal mini cities, college campuses are nice places to go.  I visited many on my trip. 

An ultimate trivia question:  "Where was the first lighted softball field in the US?"  It's in Footville, Wisconsin.  A sign proclaimed that.

To Part 2

Photo Menu

Concrete, Washington
A few miles west, of North Cascade dams is a town named for the material in the dams.  Remains of dam construction heydays. 

North Cascades Gorge Dam
Looking down on Gorge Dam from part of North Cascades Highway in Washington State. Also a lone cyclist on Highway 20.

Nature and machine. See powerhouse flowers.

The face of 540 ft. Ross Dam

Huge Spillways of Chief Joseph Dam on Columbia River

Shaft at Grand Coulee
Large spinning shaft under generator at Grand Coulee Dam. I took the tour.

Looks like the spinning counter display, in the power house, tallying up the dollars that come in from power sales. Thousands per minute. Millions and billions over the years.

More Grand Coulee Dam pictures

Ornate Spokesman Review building in Spokane, WA.

Prison Museum in Dear Lodge, Montana.

Crossing continental divide at Pipe Stone Pass in Montana

Mountains near Butte
Mountains just east of continental Divide in Montana.

Strange mud formations in Makoshika state park near Glendive, Montana

Giant buffalo sculpture stands several stories tall over Jamestown, North Dakota

The Broken Spoke Cafe.

Fireworks do show up on film.

Looks like the Space Needle, but it is a sculpture in a park in Minnesota.

Giant potholes made by spinning ice age boulders near St. Croix, Minnesota

Floodgates
From walkway to flood control dam near Redwing Minnesota.

Sparta to Elroy Bike Trail

Road cut
Central Wisconsin hill country

Wisconsin state capitol
Looking up into Wisconsin State Capitol dome.

Bike parking
Giant Bike Rack on the "bicycle Friendly" University of Wisconsin campus.

To Part 2