Sue and I had vague plans to attend a ride to eat in St Olaf, IA. We both had ridden a lot the day before (me on the Wisconsin Adventure Trail), and neither of us felt like rushing to get anywhere.
This meant, not long into the ride, it was clear we weren’t going to reach St Olaf in time. After chatting a bit, we decided to head for Anamosa instead. It was further away, but we had all day to get there, it had a state park we could camp in, and a motorcycle attraction we could visit the next morning.
With a plan, we ride on. Sue had suggested a route along the river, and I certainly wasn’t going to complain. We stopped for lunch in Prairie Du Chien, passing on Pete’s Boiled Hamburgers for a place with seating. I enjoyed the ac after the heat, Sue (who thinks anything under 80f requires a coat) was less thrilled.
After lunch I noticed some uneven power and stopped. My chain was very loose, so I took a moment to wax and tighten it.
We reached Anamosa and the state park. It has a long, hard to say name which starts Wap. It’s nice, a but small and worn, but it has water and flush toilets, and what more could you want?
Sue had just managed to fall asleep when a flashlight and loud voice woke us both, letting us know a storm was on the way. This wasn’t the tornado evacuation I had a few years ago, just a warning that we might have to seek shelter. There was a line of storms on the way, we checked the radar.
The storms, when they arrived, were impressive. Loud, bright, and the rain pounded on the tent. Oddly, it helped me sleep.
In the morning we packed and, after breakfast, we went to The National Motorcycle Museum. I hadn’t been there for years, and Sue had never been. It had changed some since my last visit, though it was still a bit cramped inside. There were new bikes and displays, and changes to the existing ones.
We said good bye in the parking lot. It sucked.
I headed south and east, alone, stopping in Illinois to camp. I found a nice spot on a small lake.