Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 72
June 17, 2015
Trip Log – Day 42 – Rochester, MN to Minneapolis, MN
June 16, 2015 – Blue skies, 70 degrees
Miles Today: 96
Miles to Date: 2,492
States to Date: 13
A perfect riding day. Rochester has bike paths along the main roads, but construction obstacles prevented me from connecting to the Douglas Trail. Eventually, the giant suburban boxes cloaked in murky aluminum siding came to an end. My wide sidewalk ended. The road narrowed, then it turned to gravel. Seven miles out of Rochester and I am on a dirt road!. But the Midwest is nothing if not logical, so I just kept north and west, and, sure enough, found the trial I wanted.
U.S.52 is the main route running NNW from Rochester to St. Paul. Bicycles are allowed, and the shoulder is good, but the traffic is constant. So I zigzagged north and west and north again along County and State roads. Rather, boulevards. In Minnesota a ‘road’ is often gravel, while a ‘boulevard’ is paved. The land grew broad, the sky huge. Intuitively, one might think such a grand landscape would make me feel tiny. Actually, I feel expansive rolling across the immense, taut surface of the earth.
I stopped at 48 miles in Cannon Falls for lunch – my first Chinese Buffet! Chinese Buffet is the ideal lunch on a long riding day; a great amount of food, including soup and vegetables, that’s healthier than most other roadside options. Besides, I got spot-on fortune: Soon you will be sitting on top of the world.
Sure enough I had 20 more miles of high plains cycling. I passed my first irrigated farm, another sign of heading into remote terrain. But I have one more major city: Minneapolis.
By mile 75 I was in the city exurbs and looking for a break. Instead I found only miles of wide four-lane roads with wide sidewalks that double as bike paths with subdivisions off either side. I believe separated bike paths are actually more dangerous than bike lanes integrated onto the street, because motorists don’t see me as easily at intersections. At every crossing I have to watch for cars in all directions and make sure they see me. Making sure that I can be seen, I managed to miss seeing a curb rise between a pair of sidewalk ramps.
There’s this instant of unity and light when cyclist and bike are suspended in midair, unburdened by friction. You know instinctively that things are going to get very bad very soon, but at the apex of your flight you are suspended, together, in bliss.
Then I am on the ground, disconnected from my bike, my head on the concrete, eyelevel with grass and shoes. “Are you alright?” One, two, three people hover over me. “I think I’ll just lay here a moment and see how things feel.” My response to trauma is always deliberate. I take a deep breath, two. I move a hand, an arm. I might be rousing from savasana. My left side hurts, and my knee, but all my joints move. I get up on my knees. Make sure I’m not dizzy, and then I stand. My elbow hurts. That’s not good. I broke that elbow in my last bike accident, 19 years ago. “Are you okay? I’ve got a first aid kit here. Can I clean you up?”
Two men in uniforms stand in front of me. Men in uniform are comforting, even if there are from Bartlett’s Tree Service. We discover I have a bloody knee and elbow and a terrific raspberry bruise on the left side of my belly. Thank goodness I ate so much at lunch; I’ve got more padding there than usual. We clean my scrapes with iodine. Ouch! We apply bandages. I appear to be fine. The Surly, the warhorse of cycles, is fine. Actually, the left pannier seems to have cushioned the fall. Saved by my trusty two-wheeled steed! I take a picture of the offending curb, which is a poorly designed obstacle that ought at least to be painted yellow. I am shaky but there’s not much to do but bike on. Less than an hour to Minneapolis.
In city after city I cycle through miles of big box stores and fast food joints. Now, when I want one, I find nothing. I take the bike path across the Mississippi Rive on a perilously high bridge; take in the view from the bluffs of Fort Snelling. Minneapolis is rational to a fault. Numbered streets and numbered avenues run at right angles without the hierarchy of New York where Avenues are wide and rare and streets narrow and often. Minneapolis is a square grid. I have to get to the 4800 block of 38th Avenue, but after ninety miles plus an intimate connection with a sidewalk I am confused and go to 38th Street. Eventually I find my way and my yoga friend Ellen and her boyfriend Derrick have a great dinner for me, wild rice and salad and that Minnesota State Fair staple: pork chop on a stick. We talk until near midnight. I fall sound asleep wondering how sore I will be in the morning.
June 16, 2015
Trip Log – Day 41 – Cresco IA to Rochester, MN
June 14, 2015 – Wind and rain, 65 degrees
Miles Today: 61
Miles to Date: 2,396
States to Date: 13
I rode straight north on a still grey and humid morning to Minnesota. Then the country road began to wind and the land turned hilly and the pavement turned to gravel for six miles. I couldn’t help thinking, ‘Is this the best route across the country?’ Pavement returned and I stopped for breakfast at the Preston IGA – the only food option in town – before finding U.S. 52 and a nice wide shoulder. The wind picked up, the rain came down, and I was happy to have the country road behind me.
Rain is not conducive to dawdling; I arrived in Rochester at one o’clock. I was interested in talking to an editor of the Mayo Clinic’s online site – one of the most extensive and respected online resources – but had been tardy in contacting them. Their public affairs guy tried to make a connection without luck. I will try again, with more advance notice, when I am Scottsdale or Florida. The Mayo Clinic has satellites.
However, as is often the case, I may have learned more by simply camping in their lobby, borrowing their guest Wi-Fi, and observing one of the world’s leading medical institutions in action. I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals, often to observe, but I’ve never been anyplace that comes closer, in atmosphere and attitude, than the Mayo Clinic when it comes to creating a hospitality experience. Most hotels only dream of having such well appointed spaces and polite yet professional staff. The choreography of so much activity transpiring in an atmosphere of subdued calm is impressive. I visited the public spaces, museum, and 1930’s era offices of the brothers Mayo and came away assured of that fundamental truth of any business: put the emphasis on people and they will flock to you. Rochester is full of hotels, all of which have shuttles to the clinic. People come to this small city from all over the world for healthcare. Yet there’s no reason why Rochester should draw so many patients, except that the Mayo invented patient-centered care, and probably no one does it better.
The sun was shining by the time I left Mayo. I found a great little motel on the edge of the hospital district, had a nice meal in a cafe, and strolled the streets in summer’s lingering daylight.
June 14, 2015
Trip Log – Day 39 –Madison, WI to McGregor, IA
June 13, 2015 – Rainy then overcast, 65 degrees
Miles Today: 112
Miles to Date: 2,274
States to Date: 12
My first century of the trip! Not too difficult on a cool day with flat terrain and little traffic. Still, good practice for heading further west, where there will be more, harder ones.
I woke to birdsong and was riding the drizzly streets of Madison by seven. I rode through lovely residential neighborhoods and more of UW campus. When I passed Frank Lloyd Wright’s Unitarian Church, I stopped on a whim and pulled on the doors. They opened! I had a few quiet moments in the meeting hall, and rather like how the ‘altar’ area is like a huge hearth.
I pedaled forty miles along U.S. 14, ‘the Frank Lloyd Wright Highway’, in various amounts of mist and rain. I wondered why ‘the biggest shoe store in the Midwest’ is in the tiny town of Black Earth, but I loved their whiffle ball field (85’ to the fences). The fertile earth truly is black. I skipped the formal tour of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin; the visitor center alone provided more reverence for the gifted megalomaniac than I could stomach. However, I enjoyed riding through the town of Spring Green to see how Wright’s influence played out, with varied success, in local buildings. Still, my favorite structure in the small town was a 1915 bank more elegant than any of the Wright stuff.
When I turned onto Route 60 in Gotham, I could tell there would be few services ahead, so ate lunch at the only available place – a bar where a couple of Harley riders had already settled themselves into a rainy afternoon watching a loop of Weather Channel disaster stories. The waitress thought me ordering a Diet Coke lame, but she made a good pizza and I learned how to escape an avalanche.
After lunch the rain ceased and I had fifty miles of the most beautiful scenery of my trip; a meandering highway that followed the Wisconsin River west, with occasional portions through lush farmland. After almost two weeks of city to city along Lake Michigan’s urban corridor, I was far from people.
Stopped for a snack at the local grocery in Wauteka and downed 32 ounces of Powerade plus a box of six ice cream sandwiches. I know, it’s disgusting, but they were so good. My gluttony turned out to be good planning. Many of the motels in Prairie du Chien were full, and the town wasn’t pleasant. So I crossed the mighty Mississippi and found a clean but remote motel in McGregor. After so many miles (and ice cream sandwiches), a hot shower and comfortable bed were the only amenities I needed.
Trip Log – Day 38 – New Berlin, WI to Madison, WI
June 12, 2015 – Rainy, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 52
Miles to Date: 2,162
States to Date: 11
My warmshowers host Herb and his parrot Barney rode me out of New Berlin at 6:20 a.m. They brought me though Waukesha, and got me started on the Glacial Drumlin Trial for my 70 mile ride to Madison and 2:30 p.m. appointment with the Director of Wisconsin Veteran’s Museum. Along the way Herb told me about Kevlar tires – he hasn’t had a flat in over 40,000 miles. In one of life’s odd coincidences, as soon as l learned about Kevlar, I really needed it.
After twenty miles the trail turns to crushed stone and grey skies delivered rain, so I was riding in mud. When they trail came parallel to U.S. 18 I switched to the highway, which had little traffic and a good shoulder. A few miles later I got a flat. The repair meant ‘d have to grab a quick lunch rather than a sit-down meal in order to make it to Madison. Then I got a second flat. I was super fast in this repair, but when I pumped up the new tube, the valve snapped: flat number three, and I was out of tubes. I packed up my pannieres and stuck out my thumb, thankful to be on U.S 18 instead of the desolate bike trail.
Within half an hour a Samaritan stopped, loaded my bike in her SUV, and drove me to a bike shop in Madison. I called in advance, and when I arrived Bryce replaced my tire (with Kevlar!), hung a new chain, checked everything else, and replenished my spare tubes. Total cost, including gas money for my Samaritan – less than $200. And I arrived at the Veteran’s Museum half hour early.
After my meeting, I spent the afternoon touring the Museum’s exhibits, the gorgeous State Capital Building, and chatting up Madison characters, like Art Paul Schlosher, who serenaded me with a bicycle song.
Jean and Jon, my Madison warmshowers hosts, served a delicious dinner of fresh fish, potatoes, and salad from their garden; finished off with homemade raspberry sorbet and chocolate chop cookies. We ate and talked while we watched the U.S. Women’s Soccer team tie Sweden in a World Cup match.
June 12, 2015
Trip Log – Day 37 – Oak Creek, WI to New Berlin, WI
June 12, 2015 – Rainy, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 34
Miles to Date: 2,110
States to Date: 11
I slept and took my time getting on the road for my short trip to Milwaukee. I wanted to see Calatrava’s Milwaukee Art Museum, and knew in advance his building was all I would see; the permanent collections were closed to renovate the old building, and the blockbuster gallery in the Calatrava building was between installations. I had a leisurely ride north along the coast, meandered into Milwaukee, and spent enough time in Calatrava’s spectacular building to appreciate its majesty and watch its brise soleil close and reopen at noon. The building is smaller than I envisioned, yet it inspires awe at every turn – a sort of nautically themed muscular masterpiece that says, “I do all the tricks of structural gymnastics because I can.”
If Chicago is the Midwest’s answer to New York, Milwaukee is more like Boston – cool and fun and more manageable. Rain began to sputter as I started pedaling through the city, so I stopped for lunch at Jimmy Johns to wait out the downpour. It was still coming down when I headed over to The Brewery, a fascinating historical reuse project at the old Pabst Brewery. The rain was steady, so Dennis Stapleton spent an hour talking to me about the project in a conference room, but it cleared in time for us to walk the site.
Calatrva wasn’t the only cool art I saw today. I also loved this house along the lake in Cudahy:
I had a bit of writing time and then headed over to my warmshowers host for the evening in New Berlin, who cycles with a parrot, Barney the biking bird!
Trip Log – Day 36 –Mount Prospect, IL to Oak Creek, WI
June 10, 2015 – Sunny, 85 degrees
Miles Today: 68
Miles to Date: 2,076
States to Date: 11
2,000 miles and Wisconsin! My first time ever the Badger State.
I got up early and shipped out of Mount Prospect before traffic grew heavy. Easy riding through city streets and industrial areas and eventually smooth bike paths far north of Chicago. I was supposed to follow thirty miles of bike path north of Oak Bluff, IL, but it was gravel and shadeless so I opted to shift over to Sheridan, a more interesting street that hugs the lake coast.
Since I had a 1:00 p.m. tour time to visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s Johnson & Sons Headquarters in Racine, I didn’t dawdle. But I was going slow enough to realize a marked uptick in clubs, gin mills, and package stores in a state famous for having more bars than churches. My dad would have loved Wisconsin. The sun was hot, but north of Kenosha the road followed the lakeshore; the temperature dropped ten degrees and the breeze was delightful.
I enjoy visiting Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, but come away wondering why he disliked people so much and wishing he could have used his talents to promote human communication rather than trying to make everyone conform to his will. A control freak of the highest order that hated cities, the man did more damage to America than almost any other architect in all the way he’s promoted sprawl. In Racine, the Johnson family insisted that the headquarters remain in the city. And though the result is a magnificent piece of sculpture, it’s a fortress against the city. The tall, solid walls with clerestory tubes of glass allow wonderful light in, but prohibit views out because FLW thought the neighborhood unattractive.
Racine, WI has one of the most successful community policing programs in the country. A few days I ago I contacted the Racine Police Department to see if I might be able to talk with someone about tomorrow. I received morning call from Lt. Dave Wohlgemuth who invited me to meet at one of their COP houses at 2:30 p.m. I was overwhelmed when I arrived. The Chief of Police, Deputy Chief, former Chief (who began the program), Dave, and two other officers spent more than an hour with me discussing their approach to policing, how it has 
contributed to Racine’s nosedive in crime, strengthened community ties, created economic opportunity, and stabilized neighborhoods. The Biblical guidance, “Ask and ye shall receive” resounded in my head as I rode away, marveling at the incredible outpouring of insights and ideas I get by just asking for an opportunity to meet and talk.
My warmshowers host, Shane, was working late, so I took a writing break and then rode an hour north in the early evening to arrive at Oak Creek after seven. Shane grilled burgers for his three stepsons and me. He offered me beer – honey, red, or dark ale – disappeared to the garage and returned with a glass of foamy brew. I figured he had a beer fridge there. But I was deeper into Wisconsin than I realized. It turns out Shane is a serious beer maker, with a basement full of a dozen or more varieties in fermentation and a triple keg refrigerator with sidewall tap in his garage. As a beer lover from a place where beer is wine’s poor relation, I felt right at home.
Trip Log – Day 33 – Gary, IN to Chicago, IL
June 7, 2015 – Rainy, 65 degrees
Miles Today: 38
Miles to Date: 1,895
States to Date: 10
The forecast was for rain rain, rain, so I got up and out early to try to pedal the short distance to Chicago before the storm hit. I rode through two hours of Sunday morning empty highways, railroads, distressed neighborhoods, Holiday Inn ruins, and aging industry. Everything was grey and the smell oppressive, but I enjoyed the cacophony of continuous train whistles, petroleum cracking, and my bike wheels thumping the cracked pavement.
However, pollution made incredible patterns in the water I traversed on old steel bridges.
I detoured to enjoy a sumptuous breakfast at Sunrise Family Restaurant in Whiting, IN. Since Whiting has a strong Mexican influence, I had a pair of sunny side eggs over chorizo hash and salsa in a skillet, but then added my first pancakes of the journey. By the time I finished my meal the rain came down, but I had the energy to push through.
I managed to get off track of U.S 41 and wound up coming into Chicago via Jeffrey Blvd., a really cool street that maps the city’s Southside development in reverse, from solid post-War single family houses, to duplex apartments, to 1920’s era apartment buildings, and then to Modernist apartments that are second or third generation development.
By the time I got to the bike path along Lakeshore Drive the rain had ceased. Chicago rose out of the water like an aquamarine Oz.
I enjoyed a fine lunch at a Thai restaurant in the emerging South of Loop neighborhood with my friend Abhi Ganju, a physician and artist I met at a conference several years ago. We’ve been Internet buddies ever since but it was great to catch up in person. Afterward, I spent the afternoon exploring Chicago’s Chinatown.
When I sought my warmshowers host’s house, I had to double-check the address. Bonnie lives in a modernist glass tower with remarkable city views – not the typical warmshowers venue. But she greeted me with the enthusiasm everyone on that website seems to possess. In short order we were chums, comparing the challenges of cycling over Vail Pass. Bonnie’s downstairs neighbor Ginny invited us to for supper on their deck. Bonnie brought cheese and crackers, her partner Frank supplied root beer, Ginny made poutine and her fiancé Joe (who lives in another unit in the building) grilled brats. I offered my question, which they considered a fair contribution to our impromptu party overlooking Chicago rooftops at sunset.
Trip Log – Day 35 –Mount Prospect, IL to Oak Creek, WI
June 10, 2015 – Sunny, 85 degrees
Miles Today: 68
Miles to Date: 2,076
States to Date: 11
2,000 miles and Wisconsin! My first time ever the Badger State.
I got up early and shipped out of Mount Prospect before traffic grew heavy. Easy riding through city streets and industrial areas and eventually smooth bike paths far north of Chicago. I was supposed to follow thirty miles of bike path north of Oak Bluff, IL, but it was gravel and shadeless so I opted to shift over to Sheridan, a more interesting street that hugs the lake coast.
Since I had a 1:00 p.m. tour time to visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s Johnson & Sons Headquarters in Racine, I didn’t dawdle. But I was going slow enough to realize a marked uptick in clubs, gin mills, and package stores in a state famous for having more bars than churches. My dad would have loved Wisconsin. The sun was hot, but north of Kenosha the road followed the lakeshore; the temperature dropped ten degrees and the breeze was delightful.
I enjoy visiting Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, but come away wondering why he disliked people so much and wishing he could have used his talents to promote human communication rather than trying to make everyone conform to his will. A control freak of the highest order that hated cities, the man did more damage to America than almost any other architect in all the way he’s promoted sprawl. In Racine, the Johnson family insisted that the headquarters remain in the city. And though the result is a magnificent piece of sculpture, it’s a fortress against the city. The tall, solid walls with clerestory tubes of glass allow wonderful light in, but prohibit views out because FLW thought the neighborhood unattractive.
Racine, WI has one of the most successful community policing programs in the country. A few days I ago I contacted the Racine Police Department to see if I might be able to talk with someone about tomorrow. I received morning call from Lt. Dave Wohlgemuth who invited me to meet at one of their COP houses at 2:30 p.m. I was overwhelmed when I arrived. The Chief of Police, Deputy Chief, former Chief (who began the program), Dave, and two other officers spent more than an hour with me discussing their approach to policing, how it has contributed to Racine’s nosedive in crime, strengthened community ties, created economic opportunity, and stabilized neighborhoods. The Biblical guidance, “Ask and ye shall receive” resounded in my head as I rode away, marveling at the incredible outpouring of insights and ideas I get by just asking for an opportunity to meet and talk.
My warmshowers host, Shane, was working late, so I took a writing break and then rode an hour north in the early evening to arrive at Oak Creek after seven. Shane grilled burgers for his three stepsons and me. He offered me beer – honey, red, or dark ale – disappeared to the garage and returned with a glass of foamy brew. I figured he had a beer fridge there. But I was deeper into Wisconsin than I realized. It turns out Shane is a serious beer maker, with a basement full of a dozen or more varieties in fermentation and a triple keg refrigerator with sidewall tap in his garage. As a beer lover from a place where beer is wine’s poor relation, I felt right at home.
June 9, 2015
Trip Log – Day 34 – Chicago, IL to Naperville, IL
June 8, 2015 – Sunny, 85 degrees with thunderstorms
Miles Today: 37
Miles to Date: 1,932
States to Date: 10
Every time I am in Chicago I remember how much I love this city. It’s got big city amenities, big city feel plus eager, friendly people. Bonnie and Frank, my warmshowers hosts, offered to take me on a bike tour of the city. Since I’ve seen the highlights before, we skipped the lake and Millennium Park in favor of the emerging South of the Loop and Pilsen neighborhoods. The former Germantown is now the center of Chicago’s Mexican community. We picked up Janet along the way and four fit retirees hit the streets. Chicago is a giant playground for architects; everyone is keen on architecture. Bonnie is a docent at the Glessner House, and we stopped often to study arches, lintel and rustication.
We ate breakfast at Neuevo Leon, an amazing Mexican Restaurant whose three dining rooms were packed at 10:00 a.m. on a Monday morning. My chorizo tostadas were delicious, the extra warm tortillas and egg samples a bonus. Everything was generous except the place settings. I have been in three restaurants in the Mid-west that give you only a napkin and a fork. Have knives and spoons not made it across the Ohio River? How am I supposed to devour every bit of the delicious food without using my fingers?
We said our goodbyes and I continued west. My cycling routes often divide into thirds, and today was a classic example. My first ten miles traversed the westward migration of Mexican immigrants in Chicago. I stopped at a Mexican bakery along 21st street – gluttony trumped hunger – to satisfy my sweet tooth. Then I continued on to Cicero, where one side of 26th Street was a huge intermodal train/truck terminal, while the other side was neat Chicago-style brick houses. On to Berwyn, where the houses got further apart but the pick-up trucks still blared Mariachi music. Finally, I hit full-blown suburbs in North Riverside, with malls and long ranch houses, but all the residents were still Mexican-Americans.
My second third was along the Salt Creek Trail; ten miles of cool, winding path through Cook County’s extensive Forest Preserve system.
Finally, I popped out in Oak Brook, a lush, very affluent exurb. Oak Brook is the headquarters of McDonald’s and apparently the executives take Happy Meal castles and pump them up to McMansions of enormous size. Brick is passé – the new ones are stone. One turret is a minimum, two or three are better. I saw one house so slick I thought it was still waiting for permanent siding. Then I realized the exterior was polished travertine. Really? In Chicago?
The exurbs are the most dangerous place to cycle. Entitled people in big cars have no patience for the rules of the road. At one intersection, after I waited to get a crossing sign, six cars cut in front of me for their right turn. Along one stretch a thin, tan woman with dazzling earrings slowed her SUV down enough to scream ‘Sidewalk’ at me, before gunning off and giving me a mouthful of exhaust. Even though by law I am supposed to ride on the road, I followed her unwelcome advice and took to the sidewalk for self-preservation.
I took a long afternoon break and waited out a serious thunderstorm, then got to my old high school friend David Klippell’s house in Naperville around six. It’s been more than twenty years since we’ve seen each other. David, his fiancé Charlene, daughter Karen, and I enjoyed beers and enchiladas. David, a carpenter, showed me all his handy work. Then we stayed up too late talking; we had a lot of catching up to do.
June 7, 2015
Trip Log – Day 32 –Stevensville, MI to Gary, IN
June 6, 2015 – Sunny, 70 degrees
Miles Today: 61
Total Miles: 1,857
Total States: 9
Today was the perfect day to cycle: seventy degrees and sunny with a light breeze that kept coming from different directions to cool and push me along. A day so good I slipped into Central Time and got an extra hour to enjoy it.
I dawdled around my hotel in the morning, enjoyed the complementary breakfast, and pedaled out just before ten. I spent most of yesterday and today on the Red Arrow Highway, an odd road in that it is a main thoroughfare, yet has no state number. It parallels I-94 from Kalamazoo to New Buffalo, sometimes as a narrow country road, sometimes as a four-lane highway. It also has these bizarre I-94 ‘Emergency ‘ signs posted all along the way. If there is an emergency on I-94, this byway isn’t going to offer much help. Regardless, Red Arrow Highway has little traffic, as I-94 is never more than a mile away.
Even on a cycle tour, the rhythm of weekends is different from weekdays. I don’t have appointments to meet with groups, but there are more people out and about for me to meet. I stopped at the intricate sand castle sculpture and wound up talking with Tim Ferrell, owner of Harbor Cabin Court about tomorrow. He is particularly interested our food system, and seemed disappointed that my on the road food regimen isn’t more discriminating.
I stopped by a small crafts fair with local honey and jams. I also learned that any road called ‘Lakeshore Drive’ would veer me off the highway, wind along wooded streets and Lakefront houses, and eventually bring me back to Red Arrow. Plenty of weekend cyclists filled the shoulder. Chris caught me just north of the Indiana line. We rode together for a few miles and swapped touring stories until he grew tired of my pace and sped off.
Long Beach and Sheridan IN are very nice beach towns; Michigan City is sleepy on a sunny Saturday afternoon. In Pines I met Zach, a convenience store cashier, who has the most radical view of tomorrow I’ve encountered to date. Sales tax rates and their application vary in every state, but I was surprised when he charged no tax on my purchase. Apparently it is his small way to subvert our monetary system, which he condemns as he collects cash from customers for gas and cigarettes.
Route 12 runs through Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore for more than ten miles, though I only saw the water when I sidetracked to the main beach, which was crowded with sun worshippers on a clear day too cool for many swimmers. After a writing break, I made my way to the Miller’s Beach neighborhood of Gary, an eclectic, funky place where my warmshowers hosts Olivia and Ty made an awesome dinner of pizza, tortellini and Asian salad before heading out to view an art show in a converted grocery store, empty storefronts turned graffiti canvases, and enjoy fresh beer at the Eighteenth Street Brewery. Guys at the bar joked that Gary was the best city on earth. Maybe it’s seen better days, but I’ve been to worse places.
