Day 41: Frack Sand, Java Jim, Secluded Road, Open for Business

Day 41:  Wednesday July 16th, 2014.
Lake City, MN to La Crosse, WI.  80.5 miles.

I started out the morning at the Chickadee Cottage Cafe in Lake City on the main drag.  It was a great find.  First up, the Ginger-Peach-Ricotta Coffee cake made from an old family recipe.  It was absolutely delicious and had me excited about the main course.

Eggs Benedict followed, with fresh fruit and hash browns toasted to perfection.  It was outstanding. 

Heading out of town, not a cloud in the sky, I rode briefly along the boardwalk adjacent to the lake to take in the view.  A resident in town told me that Lake Pepin is where water skiing was invented.

En route to the next town of Wabasha (pronounced "Wah-bah-shah"), about 12 miles down river, I rolled up and over small hills along the bluff.  Out in front of a house in the yard, a sign read, "Save The Bluffs - Stop Silica Sand Mining".  Underneath the capstone  layers of the bluffs surrounding the Mississippi floodplain are sedimentary rock units, some loaded with the right silica sand needed in the hydraulic fracturing process (fracking), which is in extremely high demand in North Dakota among other locations at the moment.

The sedimentary units here have upwards of 99% pure quartz sands with very high compressive strength, making them ideal when added with chemicals to produce a slurry that is then pumped thousands of feet underground to break apart and prop open shale deposits, allowing the oil within to seep through to the well pumps.

Ten thousand tons of sand can be consumed in the process of preparing a single fracked well.  Not only do the layers of rock under the bluffs and surrounding landscape have high quantities of the right sand, but the rail lines and river in this region are already set up as conduits to move the vast quantity of this heavy material where it's needed, thus producing a sand boom of sorts here in Western Wisconsin, extreme Southeastern Minnesota, and Northeastern Iowa.  National Geographic recently wrote an article about it.

But, the extraction process and the toll on the otherwise beautiful rolling-hill landscape has some local residents clearly upset.

As I rode on, getting closer to Wabasha, I noticed a cyclist in the distance on the other side of the road, heading towards me.  As he got close, and started to pass me, he yelled out, "There's a great coffee place in the next town".  At least, I thought that was what he might of said as he was riding by, his voice muffled by the noise of passing cars.  I stopped a little further up the road at a view point of Lake Pepin, still alongside me.  After about 10 minutes of reading the interesting interpretive signage, I looked up to see the same cyclist that had passed me earlier.  A resident of Wabasha, he reached his outer limit of his morning ride, and was returning to town.  "Are you headed into town", he asked.  "Yes, I'm passing through Wabasha on my way to La Crosse today.", I replied.  He said he would join me on the ride into town, and if I was interested in stopping, he would buy me a coffee.  "Sounds Great", I told him.

We rode and chatted along the way.  Eventually, I introduced myself.  He replied with, "My name's Java Jim - at least that's what everyone around here calls me".  Ok, that's interesting.  Maybe he's really into coffee?  Or, maybe his acquired name is a result of him buying others coffee all the time?  Either way, I was fairly certain that I would soon find out more about this curious fellow.

He guided me off the busy section of highway and through some quieter side roads as we headed into town.  Along the way, he pointed out some machinery across a field and alongside the railroad tracks.  "Do you see the white machinery sticking up next to the oil tankers?", he asked.  I confirmed that I saw what he was pointing out.

"Those are two brand new sand loaders.", he explained.  The latest technology, they can empty a semi-truck of sand and load it into rail cars in less than two minutes.  There's more that will be installed in this location, as the corporation that owns them wants to use Wabasha as a sand-transfer station to move the sand off the roads and onto the rail lines headed straight for North Dakota.  "That's why they want to use the rail line on this side of the river.", Java Jim explained.  The line on the Wisconsin side doesn't go directly to North Dakota.

The corporation filed for a permit with the city to allow 400 semi trucks loaded with sand to move through the quiet streets of this small town 24 hours per day, 7 days per week.  Citing several safety, noise, pollution, and other concerns, the city was able to deny the permit on a temporary basis.  But, that's when the corporation filed a lawsuit, suing the city for interfering with their plans.  A contentious David vs. Goliath battle ensued, and continues to be fought in court.

Turning the corner, we arrived at the Eagles Nest coffee shop.  As we entered the cafe, Jim went straight behind the counter and was talking with the staff.  Suddenly, the origin of his nickname was clear.  He owned the place.

Java Jim's morning bicycle rides are getting him in shape for RAGBRAI, the bike-across-Iowa event that begins Sunday July 20th.  This was not the first cyclist I had met and rode with that was planning to participate in the event.

Continuing down the Great River Road on the Minnesota side, I skirted along the base of the bluffs, my path flattened by the work of the Mississippi, riding on the edge of the floodplain.

Much of the river along this stretch is part of the Upper Mississippi River National Wildlife Refuge.  Reconstruction of islands within the river have helped restore natural wetlands and nesting habitat for birds.  There are lots of birds in the area, and many could be seen from the spotting scopes mounted along one of several roadside interpretive stops.

I sailed through the next small city of Winona, stopping only long enough to inhale a burger, onion rings, and a chocolate shake at Penguin Zesto burger shack, and to snap a photo as I passed through an old residential neighborhood of a house that seemed out of place in this small town.

After hearing of the story about sand mining in the area and the connection to the oil boom of North Dakota, I was paying closer attention to the rock exposures along road cuts in the bluffs.

There are some areas where the white, more pure sandstone units are exposed, and nearby sand mining operations were bustling.

On Highway 61, about 18 miles from the river crossing to La Crosse Wisconsin, the Adventure Cycling map routed me away from the highway and the river, onto a series of roads that would travel up onto the bluff and around Great River Bluffs State Park, before returning me back to the river at the town of La Crescent, just across from La Crosse.  The detour from the highway was about 10 miles further than it would be to just stay on the highway.  And, it looked as though there would be some significant elevation change as I would have to navigate up and over the bluffs.

I rarely deviate from the maps, as they are very reliable and use routes that have been inspected by bicyclists.  There's probably a very good reason for taking the long way around.  But, something prompted me to stay on the shorter path along  the river.

As I proceeded down Highway 61, all was good.  The bluffs of Great River Bluffs State Park were a scene reminiscent of the movie Jurrasic Park, filmed in-part on the island of Kauai, as walls of lush green jutted up into the sky. 

I was about 6 miles from La Crescent when Interstate 90 entered the scene.  My route, the quieter Highway 61, was merging into I-90, a full-fledged freeway.  As I rode along the shoulder of the last few feet of Highway 61, the intimidating I-90 in front of me, I was greeted by a sign that read, "No pedestrians, bicyclists, or non-motorized vehicles beyond this point".  Fortunately, there was an offramp to my right, and I walked my bike across the grass median to the offramp, and continued.

My GPS re-routed me down the 14, which at this point became a frontage road to I-90.  "Perfect!", I thought to myself.  I would ride the frontage road into town.  But, as I continued, the landscape was narrowing, the noisy freeway to my right, squeezed up against the steep face of the bluffs, and the train tracks to my left being encroached upon by the river's edge.  

Up ahead, I could see that the 14 was about to dive under the interstate and turn into an onramp.  "Am I going to be forced onto the freeway?", I wondered.  Then, as I approached the end of the 14, my GPS said to me in a polite woman's voice, "Veer to the left to take secluded road".  I've never heard my GPS tell me to take a "secluded road" before, as if it is the intriguing or romantic path to venture down.  What was she trying to suggest?  Then, I saw the sign.

Ok, it seems that at just the moment luck would run out, there's a solution that keeps me going.  As I started down Secluded Road, a barricade up ahead read, "Trail Closed."

Really?  Did that apply to me, on a bicycle?  "The barracade had been moved out of the way, implying that it was merely a suggestion.", I thought to myself.  And, any road construction I had encountered in the past was easily navigable.  I decided to forge ahead, thinking that even if there is active construction going on, I would stand a good chance of skirting around it on a bicycle.

The GPS informed me to continue for 2 miles down Secluded Road.  As I pedaled on, thick swarms of gnats in the air made proceeding almost unbearable. At one point, I was sure that the "Trail Closed" sign was due to a gnat epidemic.  I forged ahead, and after about 1.8 miles, I thought I was in the clear when suddenly things changed.  There, in front of me, the hillside the size of a small mountain had been completely altered, moved over what used to be a path, my path, by actively working earth-movers.

I stopped, staring, dumbfounded.  What do I do?  Maybe I can push my bike through it?  Just then, a large boulder comes tumbling down the slope as the sound of the Caterpillars continue overhead.  I set my bike down and waited for the trucks to move out of the immediate vicinity.  I then hiked through the rocks and dirt to see what was ahead.  The construction area was massive, and continued on for as far as I could see.  I talked to a surveyor, asking him if I could get through to the town.  He laughed, telling me, "There used to be a bike path, but it's gone.".  My path had become a casualty to the widening of the interstate in this narrow gap on the landscape.

At this point, now recognizing that there was a really good reason why the bicycle maps I had were routing me away from this area, my options were to backtrack a long ways, or to jump on the interstate for 2 miles to make it the rest of the way into town.  Either way, I had to ride the 1.8 miles in reverse down Secluded Road through Gnat-ville.

I pulled up my location on Google Maps and fortunately had enough connectivity to display the satellite imagery of the area.  I was able to zoom-in enough on this imagery to preview what the riding conditions would be like on the Interstate.  It appeared that the same wide shoulder I had been using on Highway 61 continued on I-90.  And, there was a reasonable off-ramp 2 miles down the road that would get me off the Interstate safely.

Assuming that the current construction hadn't changed any of that since the imagery was acquired for Google, then it should be doable.  I went for it, riding along the shoulder of I-90 for those last two miles before reaching La Crescent.  It was fine, and didn't seem to be any different than the riding conditions of the many miles I had traveled down Highway 61.  

Finally, from La Crescent, I traveled East, crossing over a portion of the Mississippi and the state line, entering Wisconsin on an island within the braided section of the river.

Greeting me at the state line, a sign reading "Wisconsin Welcomes You".  And, tacked onto that sign, a more recent addition, "Open for Business".

Reading the add-on sent chills down my spine, as it reminded me of a riveting movie I recently saw called, "As Goes Janesville".  Coined by Scott Walker, the "Open For Business" slogan was part of a campaign to attract more businesses to Wisconsin, reinventing the economy of the state, by promising those companies lower wages, tax breaks, and less regulation.  But, the strategy quickly deteriorated into an anti-union crusade that strengthened a political divide within the state and didn't help the hard-working middle-class citizens of Wisconsin.

Still on the island surrounded by the Mississippi, but now within the city limits of La Crosse, I checked-in to the Pettibone Resort and Campground.  Recent flooding of the Mississippi in this area had left the campsites of this resort mostly underwater.  Just a few days ago they reopened the tent sites.  My site, on the bank of the Mississippi, was surrounded by grass, trees, and the gentle flow of the glassy water surface.

The resort had everything one could need.  Laundry, showers, a bar with some food service, a small market, and more.  The workers and guests that had recently arrived were excited to be here, and that Summer had finally arrived.  One of the fun events the resort planned for the upcoming weekend, a bean-bag toss tournament.  Although, instead of using bags full of beans, they fill them with hard corn kernels around here.  So, they're calling it the "Cornhole Tournament".

Too bad that I wouldn't be around to partake in the fun.  While my plan did include staying for a day of rest in La Crosse tomorrow, I would be once again on my way before the weekend.