Day 40: The Bluffs, Twist & Shout, The Great River Road, Lake Pepin

Day 40:  Tuesday July 15th, 2014. 
St. Croix Bluffs Regional Park, MN to Lake City, MN.  54.4 miles.

While I had caught a glimpse of the St. Croix River yesterday, knowing that the campground was situated on the River with a boat ramp, I thought I would check it out before leaving.

With my bike loaded up, I left the tent loop heading back towards the main gate, passing by fields of freshly mowed grass shaded by lots of trees.  A turn to the left (East) following the signs to the boat launch led me down a short road that suddenly turned into a steep downward grade with a curve in the road limiting my view of what was ahead, or how far down I would have to go before reaching the river.

I stopped before the descent, questioning my saneness, wondering just how far down I would have to go, knowing that the return would be a battle.  "It's probably just around the curve", I tried to convince myself.  I released the brake and let gravity take over, drawing me into the unknown quickly.  As I rounded the bend, a glimpse ahead, the hill descended even further and steeper, but the preview was only to the next bend in the road.  I hit the brakes again, wondering what I had gottten myself into.  Now what?  Once again, the lure of the river convinced me that I was now committed, and turning around to climb out of my situation would be for nothing, rather than simply giving in fully to reach the prize.

I let go of the brake, once again gaining speed quickly, rounding the curve, the view ahead of more green and more descent, rather than blue water.  I descended further and further, the sinking feeling in my gut corresponding to my change in elevation.  Finally, I reached the river, now having a context for what it meant to be camping on the "bluffs" in this driftless area.

The river was beautiful, surrounded by green, and there were several fishermen in boats coming and going.  I rolled out onto the dock for a photo.

While on the dock, a boat returned from an early morning of fishing with two men aboard.  As they drifted closer, getting ready to tie-up, their attention split between the approach and the scene on the dock, the one guy said, "You planning on taking that out on the river today?", referring to my bicycle.  I laughed.

We spoke for a few minutes about my adventure across the U.S. while they loaded their boat onto a trailer.  Sam and Duane were their names.  "How did you do this morning on the river?", I asked them.  Sam smiled, and said, "You wanna see?"  The walleye he hauled in was an inch short of his personal record. He pulled the slimy beast out of the cooler, holding it up proudly, pausing for me to snap a photo.

I spoke with them a bit more, avoiding an end to the conversation knowing that I would then have to climb back up to the top of the bluff.  We eventually said our goodbyes, and I told them that they would surely pass me on the way out.  They did.

A few miles South out of the campground, I took a left turn and headed East, crossing over the St. Croix River, and for the first time, entered Wisconsin, the town of Prescott welcoming me.  Just to the South of my crossing, an old draw bridge.

On the downstream side of the bridge, the St. Croiix River relinquishes it's name, giving itself up to the muddy Mississippi.

In Prescott, I was ready to eat.  The town is situated along the river with many cafes and eateries sporting patios and terraced seating to maximize water views.

I chose a bar and grill that had a busy lunch crowd.  Sitting at the bar so that I could charge my phone while eating, I chatted with the bartender for a while.  He was an elementary school teacher from nearby Hastings, MN, working the bar for the Summer to earn some extra cash.

While there, 3 cyclists pulled up outside, all wearing the same jersey, and then entered the restaurant.  Their jerseys read, "Bike and Build 2014".

They were part of a much bigger group of van-supported cyclists riding West across America for a cause, to help build low-income housing for communitiies in need.  They ride for a few days to a pre-arranged destination where they take a few days off to help construct housing for  local organizations.  Referred to as "build days", they were making their way to Minneapolis for their next project.

Interestingly, they weren't stopping in the restaurant to eat.  Rather, on this day, the three of them were attempting to outcompete their fellow riders, divided up into other factions, for a prize.  The contest, to get the greatest number of people caught on their video camera dancing to "Twist and Shout".  I told them I was in, and the bartender disappeared into the kitchen to rally the staff.  But, in the lunch rush, they were unable to participate.

I gave the three cyclists/dancers directions to a group of hard-hat wearing workers in a road construction zone just outside of town that I had passed on my way in, and wished them success in their travels and competition.

Back on the road, now on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River, I continued South somewhat following the river on Highway 35, the "Great River Road" of Wisconsin.

Just up a portion of the bluff outside of Prescott, I came to the Great River Road Visitor and Learning Center.  I decided to stop and check it out.  Perched on a hilltop with fantastic views of the river, the center provided a fascinating glimpse into the history of constructing the river roads, their bridges, and train tressels too, and in the development and maintenance of the river itself for use as a highway of commerce for ships and barges.

Steamboat travel along the Mississippi used to be very dangerous, with many ships being lost each year as they run aground into shifting sand bars, or encounter submerged logs and debris.

At times, the Mississippi carried massive floating "rafts" of logs downstream as Wisconsin and many of the other Northern states along the river were heavily logged as a plentiful and easily-accessible source of lumber along the river.

The center also showcases some of the regions native plants with gardens in the grounds surrounding the center that were bursting with color.

Back on the road, it felt like there was something different about being in Wisconsin, versus just across the river on the Minnesota side.  Corn and soybean fields were common along the rolling hills of the bluffs, and it seemed like fishing was a popular past-time amongst many.  This large-mouth bass was poised to be fed 6 days per week.

Heading away from the river for a stretch before returning, I was pedaling up and over smaller drainages along the edge of the bluff that made their way to the much larger Mississippi.  It was a lot of work.  As I would encounter a hill and slow down, my face would be inundated with swarms of tiny gnats.  They weren't biting, just pestering me, trying to get at my eyes, ears, and nose.  It was a big distraction, and I had to keep shaking my head to ward them off.

Finally, it seemed as though I had reached the top of the bluff as I rode for a bit through a flat landscape of corn fields.  On my way back towards the river, but before descending into the Mississippi River floodplain, I came upon Nesbitts Nursery and Orchard on Highway 35.  A sign out front read, "Fresh Baked Pies, Ice Cream, Maple Syrup, Gifts".  I've learned to never pass up an opportunity for fresh-baked pie and ice cream.  

Besides being a full-fledged nursery and tree farm, Nesbitts had a great shop full of locally made maple syrup, local honey, jams, fruit butters, and more.  On my agenda was the pie, of course.  I had the marionberry pie with raspberry chocolate chip ice cream, served with a dusting of powdered sugar on the plate.

It was fantastic.  While there, I noticed a great article posted on a bulletin board from the local newspaper about travel on the Great River Road and the must-stop gems along the way.  Nesbitts was listed, along with some other interesting spots.

Leaving Nesbitts satisfied, I dropped down to the Mississippi floodplain.  The river at this location is braided into a series of channels.  I first crossed over the Wisconsin channel of the Mississippi River.

Then, I reached a much larger section of the river, crossing over via a big bridge to the town of Red Wing, and back into the state of Minnesota.

A massive grain elevator on the river's edge greeted me as I arrived.  It was labeled, "ADM", or Archer Daniels Midland.

Not long ago, I heard a brief advertisement on NPR radio for this company.  In a deep, creepy voice, it went, "ADM - Feeding the World".  That was it.  I know that it is a global mega-corporation, publicly traded, with agriculture holdings in many countries.  It was interesting to see their foothold here along the Mississippi in the small town of Red Wing.

Among the things the town is known for, Red Wing shoes are made here, and being in the driftless area, there are also some great exposures of old (Upper Cambrian) sandstone rock layers, including the "Jordan" sandstone (yellow in color) and the "Franconian" sandstone (green, as it is loaded with the mineral glauconite) that are offset by a fault.

Leaving Red Wing, I followed highway 58 out of town and away from the river before returning to the river at the town of Frontenac.  While on the road, the forested bluffs gave way to more fields of corn.

Back along the Mississippi, the river started to widen significantly.  I had arrived at Lake Pepin.

Lake Pepin occupies 22 miles of the Mississippi Valley, and was formed as the Chippewa River downstream of here merges with the Mississippi.  Because the Chippewa flows down a much steeper gradient, it was able to erode much coarser sands and gravels from the landscape and carry that material downstream, dumping it into the Mississippi.  Because the Mississippi moves much slower, it wasn't able to move the coarser Chippewa material out of the way.  A natural dam was thus formed at the confluence of the two, and Lake Pepin developed.

The town I arrived at along Lake Pepin, called Lake City, would be my final destination for the day.  I setup camp and made my way over to a great little bar and grill called the Railhouse Grill adjacent to the tracks, arriving just before they closed.  Sitting at the bar, I met Tom Horner, the bartender, who was also an elementary school teacher doubling as a mixologist in the Summer to earn some extra cash.  He was very nice and gave me some tips on good roads to ride on as I made my way South tomorrow.  He also talked of the two big industries in town that provide lots of jobs for the community, including Federal Mogul and Hearth & Home.