Big River Ride Journal (Part 5)
http://www.pedelecs.co.uk/articles/18/1/Big-River-Ride-Journal-Part-5/Page1.html
Russell Scott
By Russell Scott
Published on 09/27/2006
Boats, boats, boats....In the superb river port of Dubuque, they were suddenly everywhere: tow boats and barges, tourist paddle wheelers, fishing boats, pleasure boats, and one great big floating casino (which was pretty good to me last Saturday night).
But the star attraction of Dubuque is its National Mississippi River Museum which, had it been left to me to name, I would have called 'The Mississippi River Great Rock n' Roll Show'.
To me at any rate, the term 'museum' brings up the image of dusty specimens and solemn dreariness. But with this particular place, what you get is some really exciting stuff by using state-of-the-art technology. For instance, it has three small movie theatres which show assorted aspects of life along this mighty waterway in a kind of virtual reality, as if the viewer is actually a part of it himself. When thunder crackles, so does the whole cinema. When an earthquake hits, your seat shakes as if you (and it) are about to drop through the floor. When you watch a towboat crew at work, you are up there in the pilot house, almost negotiating the locks and dams yourself. I am not normally given to praising themed attractions, but this one is truly a class act. Everything you'll ever need to know about the Mississippi River is right there inside this ultra-modern establishment - and they've presented everything it in a way that actually makes education a pleasure.
Still in Dubuque, I bumped into a character called Jerry Bradshaw and thought his story interesting enough to relate here. When Jerry went to college as a young man, he came out the other end as a qualified economist. Naturally enough, he began a career in the fiscal industry, believing that it would be for life...until one night he returned home from work to find a burglar trying to break in. The cops were called, but the guy scrambled away. The police then advised Jerry to get himself a guard dog, which he did - ever so gradually coming to realise that he had much more of an affinity with the canine race than with economics.
Thus began a brand new career as a police dog trainer. But this is America, don't forget. Jerry doesn't work for any old police force, no sir. Instead, he set up a business importing German Shepherds from Slovakia, training them up himself. By the time they're sold on to police forces all over the USA, these dogs not only know how to hold and bite a suspect, but also will sniff out narcotics and explosives with the same zeal as if sniffing out a bitch on heat. For anyone interested in sniffing out his web site, the address is www.tarheelcanine.com.
On the subject of cops, a couple of days ago I overnighted in a small port called Bellvue where the railroad track runs bang through the middle of town. The story goes that the authorities of yesteryear only allowed the tracks to be laid on condition that trains refrained from hooting their whistles, and that they traveled through the town at a maximum of 5mph.
This law, long abandoned elsewhere, still applies in Bellvue- and each time a train driver breaks it - which is often enough - enraged residents will call the police, who then immediately despatch a patrol car to catch the train's number. That done, the offending railroad company will actually receive a speeding ticket.
I have had an entire week free of punctures and, I'm pleased to add, free of any mechanical problems whatsoever. So to those purists and sceptics who think an electric-assist bike to be not much more than a gimmick, I say think again. The eZee Torq really does take the pain out of pedalling, particularly against hills and headwinds (and those I've had aplenty these past few days).
And while on this topic, I want to correct some armchair idiot who's been posting on Treehugger.com. According to him or her, the only way I can keep my battery with sufficient charge is to have a back-up car following me with spares.
What utter rubbish. I charge it every night of course. And then at lunchtime when I stop at some roadside cafe or petrol station, I'll give it a boost for an hour or so. Electric bikes DO work, and so long as you pedal as well, they'll do the distance.
Talking of distance, I'm now one-third of the way down the river with nearly 650 miles on the clock. The weather's been good, the scenery lovely, and the people wonderful. So here's my first real gripe of the ride...the port and city of Clinton, Iowa. Take a look at the two accompanying pictures, and you'll see what I mean. The place is an industrial eyesore, and for a cyclist, an absolute nightmare to ride through - no hard shoulder, and18-wheelers that all but greased my hips as they charged by.
Still, I've survived so far, and am now ensconced for the night in the charming little port of Le Claire - hometown to Buffalo Bill Cody. There is, of course, a museum dedicated to this legendary frontiersman - but seen from the outside, I rather suspect it's back to the dusty-specimen syndrome.
More next week, when I should just about be hitting the Missouri border.
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.
| | Boats, boats, boats....In the superb river port of Dubuque, they were suddenly everywhere: tow boats and barges, tourist paddle wheelers, fishing boats, pleasure boats, and one great big floating casino (which was pretty good to me last Saturday night). |
Part 05: Le Claire, Iowa. September 27, 2006.
Boats, boats, boats....In the superb river port of Dubuque, they were suddenly everywhere: tow boats and barges, tourist paddle wheelers, fishing boats, pleasure boats, and one great big floating casino (which was pretty good to me last Saturday night).
But the star attraction of Dubuque is its National Mississippi River Museum which, had it been left to me to name, I would have called 'The Mississippi River Great Rock n' Roll Show'.
To me at any rate, the term 'museum' brings up the image of dusty specimens and solemn dreariness. But with this particular place, what you get is some really exciting stuff by using state-of-the-art technology. For instance, it has three small movie theatres which show assorted aspects of life along this mighty waterway in a kind of virtual reality, as if the viewer is actually a part of it himself. When thunder crackles, so does the whole cinema. When an earthquake hits, your seat shakes as if you (and it) are about to drop through the floor. When you watch a towboat crew at work, you are up there in the pilot house, almost negotiating the locks and dams yourself. I am not normally given to praising themed attractions, but this one is truly a class act. Everything you'll ever need to know about the Mississippi River is right there inside this ultra-modern establishment - and they've presented everything it in a way that actually makes education a pleasure.
Still in Dubuque, I bumped into a character called Jerry Bradshaw and thought his story interesting enough to relate here. When Jerry went to college as a young man, he came out the other end as a qualified economist. Naturally enough, he began a career in the fiscal industry, believing that it would be for life...until one night he returned home from work to find a burglar trying to break in. The cops were called, but the guy scrambled away. The police then advised Jerry to get himself a guard dog, which he did - ever so gradually coming to realise that he had much more of an affinity with the canine race than with economics.
Thus began a brand new career as a police dog trainer. But this is America, don't forget. Jerry doesn't work for any old police force, no sir. Instead, he set up a business importing German Shepherds from Slovakia, training them up himself. By the time they're sold on to police forces all over the USA, these dogs not only know how to hold and bite a suspect, but also will sniff out narcotics and explosives with the same zeal as if sniffing out a bitch on heat. For anyone interested in sniffing out his web site, the address is www.tarheelcanine.com.
On the subject of cops, a couple of days ago I overnighted in a small port called Bellvue where the railroad track runs bang through the middle of town. The story goes that the authorities of yesteryear only allowed the tracks to be laid on condition that trains refrained from hooting their whistles, and that they traveled through the town at a maximum of 5mph.
This law, long abandoned elsewhere, still applies in Bellvue- and each time a train driver breaks it - which is often enough - enraged residents will call the police, who then immediately despatch a patrol car to catch the train's number. That done, the offending railroad company will actually receive a speeding ticket.
I have had an entire week free of punctures and, I'm pleased to add, free of any mechanical problems whatsoever. So to those purists and sceptics who think an electric-assist bike to be not much more than a gimmick, I say think again. The eZee Torq really does take the pain out of pedalling, particularly against hills and headwinds (and those I've had aplenty these past few days).
And while on this topic, I want to correct some armchair idiot who's been posting on Treehugger.com. According to him or her, the only way I can keep my battery with sufficient charge is to have a back-up car following me with spares.
What utter rubbish. I charge it every night of course. And then at lunchtime when I stop at some roadside cafe or petrol station, I'll give it a boost for an hour or so. Electric bikes DO work, and so long as you pedal as well, they'll do the distance.
Talking of distance, I'm now one-third of the way down the river with nearly 650 miles on the clock. The weather's been good, the scenery lovely, and the people wonderful. So here's my first real gripe of the ride...the port and city of Clinton, Iowa. Take a look at the two accompanying pictures, and you'll see what I mean. The place is an industrial eyesore, and for a cyclist, an absolute nightmare to ride through - no hard shoulder, and18-wheelers that all but greased my hips as they charged by.
Still, I've survived so far, and am now ensconced for the night in the charming little port of Le Claire - hometown to Buffalo Bill Cody. There is, of course, a museum dedicated to this legendary frontiersman - but seen from the outside, I rather suspect it's back to the dusty-specimen syndrome.
More next week, when I should just about be hitting the Missouri border.
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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