Remember, I mentioned that the folks in Illinois were less than outgoing? Well, happily, we biked in Iowa today, and here the people have been returning my enthusiastic waves. Not so many, nor so gregariously, as the southern people, but certainly an improvement.
We had headwinds again today, though not so ferocious as the day before. The hills were pretty tough, especially nearing Cascade, about the halfway point. Annie, that is another town you and I will have to visit someday! We had lunch there, and I ate everything in sight. We were at a cute little coffee shop and the staff was rapidly crossing items off the menu on the blackboard as we ate up the groceries. There was a young man working there, bringing out food out as the cook furiously worked to prepare it. After we'd been there for sometime, one of the bikers asked him a question. He explained that he didn't know. "I don't work here," he said. "I just came in to fix the ice maker." Yup! He was a repairman, making his rounds, and the owner had somehow persuaded him to turn waiter/bus boy for a couple of hours!
After Cascade, the ride was much improved, with gently rolling hills and, if I remember correctly, some tailwinds. The change was rather dramatic. Sort of like walking across Broadway from Washington Heights in Manhattan, to Spanish Harlem. It is like walking into another world. (Or at least it was, the last time I was there, which was long ago.) The terrain had been farm country before, but after Cascade it was FARM COUNTRY. Red barns and fields and cows and pigs. The sights, the smells, the sounds, were farm, all the way.
Many of the riders were eager to go to the movie site where Field of Dreams was filmed, none more than Judy. The photo is Judy wearing her FOD tee shirt, which she bought at the site. I loved the movie, but I wasn't all that curious about the site, and I was anxious to get in as early as possible, as I feared the return of the migraine. It made a brief appearance first thing in the morning, but then it left me alone until 2:10, just as I pulled into the sag stop. I took the pill and the headache went away, but I wanted to be in the hotel with my ice bag if it came back.
As we approached Field of Dreams, I told Laurie I was going to go on to Dyersville. "First though," I told her, "I'm going to eat my lunch." I know, I already ate lunch, but that peanut butter sandwich was still in my bag. I spotted a nice shade tree and a grandma and granddaughter, so I stopped and asked if I could have a picnic under her tree. Grandma said that was okay and I know the little girl wanted to stay and talk, but Baba, the dog, was having none of it. He just wouldn't stop barking, so I moved on.
Now, Annie, I don't plan to exhaust you with tales of Dyersville, but it actually was interesting. Our hotel was next door to the National Farm Toy Museum. I actually got in in time to shower and tour the museum. A special treat was running into Marilyn, who introduced me to LeRoy, a friend of hers and Mary's from Floyd, Iowa. LeRoy grew up on a farm, so he was able to tell us a lot about the displays in the museum. It was a lot of fun.
Now, if you think 109 miles was a long way to bike (gosh, that seems like a lifetime ago), listen to what LeRoy did. He and a group of cyclists crossed the country several years ago in three weeks. They averaged 140 miles a day! AVERAGED! Gives me the willies just thinking about it, but over pie and ice cream he told us about a ride some other guys did where they biked 240 miles one day!!! After we "ooohd and aaahd", I said, "Gee, can you imagine how long it would take me to ride that far?" Laurie choked on her cherry pie, and Laura said "four days later, Dusty rolled in." Sigh. Bucky and I get no respect at all.
The big treat of the day was after the museum and before the pie. LeRoy piled a bunch of us into his van and took us to the Dyersville Basillica. The front door was locked, but we went in a side door and walked in to the seemingly empty cathedral. Just as we started down the center aisle, the organ began to play. We all stopped, feeling a bit awed, and then the choir began singing the Lord's Prayer. It was incredible. The basillica is beautiful, elaborate carved confessionals, pews carved with a variety of woods, the stations of the cross in relief and great detail around the walls. But best of all was that incredible choir. Thanks LeRoy, you made Dyersville a highlight of our trip.
Until tomorrow.
Dusty
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