GRUNDY CENTER, IOWA: Heat vs. A Determined Mind

September 17, 2018

I didn't put the rainfly on my tent last night because I didn't need the privacy and I was hoping I'd stay a little cooler on such a hot evening. It helped, but I still didn't get a good night's sleep because of the oak trees. They were dropping acorns like storm clouds drop hail. I could hear them clunking on branches on their way down to hitting the ground with a thud. It was happening all over the campground. Not a minute went by that I didn't hear acorns falling from the trees.

Once I got accustomed to my sweatiness and the falling acorns, I started dozing off. I'm here to tell you that nothing, absolutely NOTHING, will cause you to bolt upright in a panic faster than an acorn falling directly onto your tent.

Eventually I did get to sleep, but daylight came too soon. I had to get up, though, because I had an important appointment to keep.

It looks like another fine Iowa morning out there.

The minute I exited my tent the mosquitoes attacked. Reluctantly, I added another layer of insect repellent all over my legs and arms and neck and face and ears and forehead. Then I had to put more on my shirt and socks because the bastards were biting right through the clothing.

With the last few ounces from my water bottle, I made a cup of coffee while I packed up my gear. I did not want to be late for my 9:00 appointment in Baxter, IA which was about 8 miles away.

I rode away from the campground and about a quarter-mile later I noticed a concrete block restroom. Expecting a pit toilet, I was flabbergasted to find running water, a flush toilet, AND A SHOWER! If only I had known about this last night.

I quickly stripped down and washed off two heavy layers of DEET and a full day's worth of biking sweat. It might have been the shortest shower in history, but I definitely felt a little more presentable for my appointment. What a relief!

Sometimes you've got to ride a little gravel.

Sometimes you've got to ride some hills.

Sometimes you've got to drive your farm machinery under a pretty sky.

Sometimes you've got to leave your equipment right where it is after the field has been cleared.

Aside from the guide at the Hindu Temple and the bartender at the tavern in Mingo, I haven't had any meaningful human interaction on this trip. Sure, there were the strictly-business transactions at convenience stores, restaurants, motels, and campgrounds, but that's it.

So when a known bike touring guy, whose journals I have long admired, contacts me and tells me he has recently moved to Iowa and would like to meet, I could not have been more receptive to the idea. We exchanged a few more messages over the next couple of days and came up with a plan.

I met Jeff Arnim at The Blue Ribbon Cafe in Baxter as we had planned. If you have read his journals, you'd probably guess he is smart and funny and an all-around great guy. You'd be right. We had breakfast, we talked, we exchanged compliments and bike touring stories, and I thoroughly enjoyed our visit.

When it comes to taking pictures of people I meet, I am the absolute worst. Sometimes it's because I don't feel comfortable about asking for a picture and sometimes it's because I forget to ask for a picture. In this case it was the latter. I don't have a picture of Jeff, I don't have a picture of his cool bike, I don't have a picture of the Blue Ribbon Cafe, and I don't even have a picture of Baxter. Without pictures, you can choose to believe me or not.

Only at the last minute did I even remember to thank Jeff for picking up the tab for our breakfast. I also appreciated it when he said, "That's your bike, huh? It looks pretty reckless."

About 15 miles north and east of Baxter, I came across a bike trail that led me all the way to Marshalltown. It was getting pretty hot out there--somewhere around 90-degrees with that same un-September-like humidity. I thought about stopping right there, but it was only noon. Then I thought about going 14 miles further to camp at a state park that I saw on my map. Sometimes bike touring is masochism, but setting up camp in this weather again was too masochistic for me. I set my sights on a motel 25 miles away in Grundy Center. A breeze from the south was in my favor.

Just as I was feeling pretty good about my decision, my dad called and offered to pick me up. He was watching the news and became concerned about my safety in this kind of heat and humidity. He told me the heat index was 96-degrees.

Of course, I told him that that could never happen. It's not only a case of me braving the weather and the terrain and everything else that can be thrown at a bike tourist, but also, I'm writing an on-line journal. How would it look if I needed my dad to give me a ride because it was too hot outside?

Sometimes you've got to take a picture of wind turbines beyond a cornfield.

Sometimes you've got to admire twelve consecutive miles of striped highway.

Today's ride: 65 miles (105 km)
Total: 569 miles (916 km)

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