 | The headwinds have been atrocious over the past few days. They blew, blew, and blew - until finally I blew myself, screaming at the invisible foe to give me an effing break. But except for that, the weather has been gorgeous. |
On leaving St Paul last Thursday, I headed for the riverside city of Redwing, some 60 miles to the south, worrying about the bike's battery capacity as I slogged through an enemy so powerful, that it was impossible to pedal without resorting to electric assist. Power had to be utilised for (almost) the entire journey, and the gauge was showing signs of running dry when, 12 miles out of town, I had the first puncture of the ride, caused by an industrial-sized stapler sitting out there on the road. I mean, what the hell was a stapler doing there anyway?
Once that got resolved, and after a quiet night in the pleasant city of Redwing, I carried on to lovely Mississippi river port called Wabasha (pronounced 'wobashaw'). Here I checked into a 12-room hostelry known as the Anderson Heritage House, where I got taken slightly aback by a sudden question from the receptionist.
"D'ya'wanna cat?"
"Excuse me?", I replied after a brief silence.
She met my blank, uncomprehending stare head on. "We've got a load of cats here. They like to sleep with the guests. So d' you wanna cat or not?"
I accepted, on the grounds that animals are generally preferable to humans, which was possibly a mistake on my part. A huge black tom spent the night purring on my chest.
There is an intriguing establishment in Wabasha known as the Eagle Centre. It's a kind of RSPCA for these symbolic birds of prey, which tends and cares for wounded eagles, so prolific in Minnesota. Two of them were traffic casualties, and another just plain careless by falling out of its nest (an eagle's nest can, by the by, reach four tons in weight, which tells you something about the immense power of these birds).
On Sunday - a drab, wet morning - I crossed the bridge at Winona and entered the state of Wisconsin, on my way to La Crosse - for once with the wind behind me. Then, two miles down Highway 35, phut, another flat tyre. For reasons I'll go into later, it is not so easy to make roadside repairs on an electric bike, and I could see straight away that on this occasion, the machine needed to be referred to a specialist. So I wheeled it along the hard shoulder, the rear wheel hiccupping with every revolution, until a few houses came into sight. I knocked on doors at random, hoping to use a phone.
The first house turned out to be a late-night lap dance den, beer cans littered everywhere, yet all quiet on this Sunday morning. Two or three houses later, a gruff old bloke of 70 let me in. A quick phone call solved the immediate problem, and I spent the next hour or so with him, watching the Green Bay Packers take on the New Orleans Saints. The Saints won, which I hope was some small boost for that battered city.
I'm now heading towards Iowa, from where I'll make the next update in a couple of days time.
Keep up to date with Quentin's travels by reading his blog here on Pedelecs, by visiting his site below or listening to the once-weekly broadcast on Radio 5 Live Up All Night programme.
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