A Missouri-able Day

Day 6
States: 15 (25 if you count total crossings to and from Iowa
Miles: 4260

Missouri does not exist.  That is what I came to believe.  Or it is very good at hiding.  I know the people of Missouri are known for their stubbornness, but I was completely unaware that an entire state itself also has this capability.  But let me back up first.  The morning in Sioux City brought humidity beyond belief.  I usually remove Hern's tourpack, because it has quick disconnect clips.  As i was lugging the tourpack out of the room and back onto the bike I watched the chrome luggage rack fog over within seconds of stepping outside.  Then I tried to take a picture only to have the lens of the camera fog over.  Wow, this was going to be a fun day.  It was brutal.  And it was hot. 

As usual another Harley rider was preparing his bike out in the parking lot, and we got to talking.  He and his wife were coming from the direction in which I was headed, and they advised me that I-29 had more closures.  Nebraska and Missouri were not going to be easy to access.  And they were not kidding.  Just south of Sioux City a section of the interstate was actually below the water level.  

A series of what appeared to be sandbags, but were actually sand-filled barrels wrapped with plastic, were acting as a dam to hold the water back.  As you approach this section of the freeway, you actually descend below the level of the water, which is an incredibly eerie feeling.  Actually I felt a bit like Moses, albeit a little grimier version.  

In the middle of this unintended lake a farm house and barn could be seen. 

For Sale - Island House, Freeway Access

Omaha lay somewhere beyond this lake, but I soon would find that indeed it was not so easy to get to.  I-29 was closed not too far beyond this seen, so I was forced to go deeper into Iowa, then backtrack to get into Nebraska.  It was a little farther that I expected.  Beatrice was unhappy that I was not taking the freeway - her favorite phrase, "recalculating," soon got quite old.  She took me through Council Bluffs Iowa, which is across the river from Omaha.  I dutifully traveled through the small, quiet streets of Council Bluffs, passing many churches whose parking lots were filled with pick-ups, Chevrolets, and Fords.  I'm sure the rumbling from Hern's pipes added to the substance of the preachers' words.  Soon I crossed the river, and looming before me were the towering buildings of Omaha's downtown, the first city I had really encountered since leaving LA.  Having crossed Nebraska off my list, I punched up my next destination, a small town in Missouri.  Beatrice responded with instructions that can be pretty well summarized as, "turn here, no here, no here…..recalculating."  I was literally going in circles.  Before I knew it, here came Council Bluffs again.  OK, this was my third trip into Iowa, but I could deal with that.  My goal was to get to I-29, south of Omaha, and I guess this was going to be the way.  Eventually I found a route to I-29 and set out for Missouri.  More flooding could be seen.  And more road closures - including the one I was on.  Signs turned us around and offered a detour route, which I dutifully followed - all the way back to.... Council Bluffs.  I wasn't that thrilled with Council Bluffs in the first place, and really had no desire to visit it a third time, so I exited the detour route, because it was time for a fuel break. 

And here's where yet another amusing character along my way appeared.  As I pulled up to the pump, I noticed a grown man wearing pajamas cleaning his windshield.  He beamed as I rode up, marveling at the extensive bug collection on the front of my bike.  He said something about the bugs and went back to cleaning.  But not just his windshield.  He was using the squeegee to clean the entire car!  He would systematically dip the sponge side in the water bucket at the pump, then squeegee off the car.  And he was wearing pajamas.  I managed to get a photo of him on the iPhone, but I figured dragging out the Nikon would be pushing it.  His photo is on the tracking webpage, but I don't have time to transfer it to the blog here.  He actually turned out to be a reasonably personable guy, so I figured that it was customary to wear your pajamas on Sunday mornings in public in Iowa, because nobody else seemed to pay him much mind.  He asked where I was from and where I was going, and I explained that I was trying to get to MIssouri, but was having a bit of a challenge with all of the closed roads.  He took great delight in solving that problem for me as he spewed out road numbers and letters and names that I quickly lost track of.  I thanked him for his help, started up and rode away wondering if I should try to follow his directions.  But then I remembered the Mama always said, "Never trust a man wearing pajamas cleaning his entire car with a squeegee," so I decided to trust Beatrice. 

Big mistake.  I set off in the direction that Beatrice commanded.  It seemed like a wonderful little two-lane road, and indeed another Harley came from the other direction, the couple on it both waving gleefully, so I figured I was in good shape.  But after about 20 minutes it didn't seem like I was going in the right direction.  My suspicions were confirmed when a roadsign advised me that I was 25 miles from……Council Bluffs. I flipped to the compass reading on the GPS, and indeed found that I was heading north rather than south.  I decided to take the first right I could find, since I had noted on a map that several major roads to the east run south to Missouri.  A sign soon appeared announcing that a town call Mineola was in my direction.  By that name, it seemed like a nice enough place.  I was beginning to enjoy this little detour.  I flipped on the helmet cam to record this delightful enclave hidden in Iowa.  t wasn't long before I rolled into Mineola. I decided that it was the kind of town where everyone knows everyone.  Because they all live in the same house.  Seriously, if more than four people live in this town, I would be shocked.  Still, it was a neat little town with an old-fashioned western style bank and…..well, that's about it.  My tour of Mineola complete I set out for Missouri.  But my road continued to go east.  And east.  And east.  Finally coming to an intersection, I turned south again.  The road ran south for about one half mile and then turned….you guessed it, east.  Missouri could not be reached.  Eventually I came upon signs that read "I-29 South detour," so I knew I was close.  At this point I had traveled over 200 miles, and all i really could claim was a trip to Omaha (and several to Council Bluffs).  I simply followed the signs, and after what seemed like days, but was really hours, I was greeted with a sign that read, "Missouri welcomes you."  I doubted the sincerity of it. 

Do You Really?

OK, now it was time to get back to Iowa and on the way to Minnesota, the next state on my list.  Despite her increasing incompetence, I let Beatrice lead me in the intended direction.  But she seemed to interpret every farmhouse driveway and dirt cowpath as a road back to Iowa.  "Turn here, turn there, recalculating."  Once again I was going in circles.  I finally came upon a town where i stopped, got out my paper maps and found that I was even deeper in MIssouri, further away from Iowa.  Missouri wouldn't let me in before, and now it wouldn't let me leave!  I pointed in a direction that seemed right based on my map reading, but that proved fruitless.  Once again I pulled over and dismounted.  As I pulled out my maps again I heard a voice yell, "Hey!"  I looked up a hill next to the road that I had stopped on and there was a man waving to me, about 200 yards away, standing in front of what looked to be his garage.  He motioned me up, and yelled "C'mon up!"  Figuring he sensed my predicament, I wound up a long, twisting gravel driveway to the garage that he had been standing in front of.  As I pulled up and shut off the motor, he looked at me in surprise and said, "Well, hell, you're not Cliff."  I confirmed that I was in fact not Cliff.  But he stuck out his hand and introduced himself and asked if he could help, clarifying that my bike and I looked just like a friend of his that he was waiting for.  I explained that I was trying to get to Minnesota.  "Minnesota?!?" he asked, clearly a bit confused.  "What the hell are ya doin' here?"  I told him that's what I was wondering, and told him I couldn't get out of Missouri.  I gave him the name of a town in Iowa that I had asked Beatrice to take me to and he said, "Oh, no you can't get there - all the roads are under water."  He said, "I"ll help you get out of here."  I was sure he was going to tell me to head in the direction of Council Bluffs again, but in fact he did point me in a more desirable direction.  He offered me a drink, which I declined, but I thanked him for his help and set off for Iowa once again.  Eventually I found my way out of Missouri, but by this time I had lost approximately four hours.  Combined with the time I had lost over the past few days, I discovered that I was a full day behind now.  I compensated by staying on the road longer than intended, but was rewarded  by not only knocking off Minnesota, but also by reaching Wisconsin, both of which were reached without any reportable encounters (thankfully).  It was a long day, but I still feel relatively good, and Hutmo's Lincoln Highway Tour and a Wednesday Pittsburgh arrival still look doable.  I'll have to really kick it the next two days, but hey, after conquering Missouri I think I'm pretty much capable of doing anything now.  

Unusual things seen on the road today:

• A pajama wearing man squeegeeing his entire car
• An axe murder museum
• A Spam museum

Unusual things heard at the gas station today:

A motor home pulled up to the pump opposite me in Iowa,  The driver, an elderly gentleman, got out of the motorhome and inserted his credit card into the pump.  He then turned to his wife, who had also exited the vehicle and announced, "I"ve gotta take a leak.  Put ethyl in it."
Her:  "Put what in it?"
Him: "Ethyl."
Her:  "It says 87, 89, and 91."
He walks back over to the pump and points, saying, "Here, this."
Her:  "That says ethanol."
Him: "Yeah, that's what I said - ethanol."
With that he walked away, shaking his head.