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A Bicycle Tour across North America
11 Aug 1999, Day of the solar eclipse
At 12:30 the plane with me and my bicycle takes off in Munich. Stopover in London Heathrow, then on to Vancouver, where the jumbo arrives the same evening at 6:30 pm. Luckily my bike arrives “unharmed”, so half an hour later I am already riding the 20 km to the youth hostel with my loaded iron steed.
12 Aug 1999, Across the border into the United States
On minor roads to Sumas, where after a little persuasion I get permission to enter the USA. I tell the border officer I want to cycle to Chicago, which sounds less improbable than New York. As I did not want to pitch my tent somewhere out in the wild on the first day of my trip, I looked for a campground. They promptly sent me to one that had closed years ago. It is 7 in the evening and the next campground is 40 km away; I had already cycled 160 km and actually wanted to take it easy on the first day. The campground then turned out to be a luxury place with luxury prices, but never mind, first day and new in the country.
13 Aug 1999, First mountain stretch
In the valley of the Skagit River the road climbs slowly but steadily. The mountain passes I had to cross have gradients of around 5%; to gain 1000 metres of altitude you sometimes have to pedal up gentle slopes for 40 km. Since my bike with all its luggage (big tent, petrol stove, sleeping bag, food, water, ...) was more like a lorry/donkey anyway, I was quite grateful for the gentle climbs. And the descents are all the nicer, as you hardly have to brake and enjoy them for a long time.
14 Aug 1999, Double pass I
The first pass lived up to its name: Rainy Pass, about 4800 ft above sea level. They say it is quite beautiful there; unfortunately I had fog and rain. Not for nothing is Washington also called the “Evergreen State”. The second pass, Washington Pass, came right after at 5400 ft. In Winthrop there is an old Western tourist town to look at. I made sure to get a few kilometres away from the hustle and bustle.
15 Aug 1999, Double pass II
Two more passes of about 1000 metres of climbing each in one day. In the afternoon I took a break in a café / petrol station / corner shop. It was foggy and cool outside; I drank a thin brown water in which, it seemed, a coffee bean tied to a string had been allowed to swim for a few seconds. Country music crackled from the radio and a Korean woman polished cutlery the whole time. After half an hour a customer came in and bought bait fish swimming in a water tank. Cowboy boots and hat, and in his jeep I saw a rifle. From that moment on it was clear to me: I am in the Wild West. So many John Wayne films, Karl May novels and Marlboro commercials, and here I am, right in the middle of it. Rain again in the evening. It is very annoying to pitch a tent in the rain that was already wet from the day before.
16 Aug 1999, Cyclists spotted
The land is thinly populated. Now and then you see adventurous dwellings, thrown together from corrugated iron, an old caravan and a dozen wrecked cars around it, which the owner is obviously cannibalising for parts. Barbed wire fences, a satellite dish, tin barrels, a pony and an old yellow school bus without windows. A yapping dog is part of it in any case. To prove his usefulness and alertness to his master he barks like mad and, if not chained up, which he mostly is, gives chase to the cyclist. On a heavy bike you are all but helpless. Not far away someone has planted a white villa with Greek columns in the landscape. Swimming pool, a 15-metre motorhome that looks like a spaceship, a well-kept gravel path to the double and triple garage; white panelled garage door that opens by remote control. I know how black-and-white that sounds, but that is how it was. An elderly couple from Princeton, New Jersey, came towards me on bicycles today. They had started in the east a good two months ago. That encouraged me. They were motel cyclists, travelling without a tent.
17 Aug 1999, Pend Oreille River
Along the Pend Oreille River from Ione to Sandpoint. Sun, blue water, mountains, few cars, a lovely day. In the evening I shared a campground near Sandpoint with two cyclists from Vancouver. There the river is dammed into a big lake. Whether water skiing, fishing, windsurfing or sailing, the lake has room for everybody. A little swim, a change out of the sweaty T-shirt, and I felt reborn.
18 Aug 1999, Troy
Troy, “Troja” in German, was my destination today. The opening hours of supermarkets in America are sometimes phenomenal. Troy, a village of about 500 inhabitants, had a big supermarket that was open from 6 in the morning until 2 at night. In other towns only slightly bigger I also found some that were open 24 hours. It was immediately obvious to me that such a service is necessary; 3 am is simply the best time to shop. That day I also had my only breakdown of the whole trip: the inner tube of my rear tyre, already patched several times and 3 years old, simply gave up under the heavy weight of the bicycle. The valve started leaking and within seconds the rear tyre was flat.
19 Aug 1999, Eureka
Rain, as so often. Along Lake Koocanusa to Eureka. Around noon it clears up a bit and I can spread my tent out to dry. Modern tent materials are wonderful, after 20 minutes everything is dry. The same procedure every morning: get up at 6, pack my belongings into the panniers, take down the tent, pack up, and at 6:45 I am on the bike. After 20-30 km I look out for a petrol station to have a coffee.
20 Aug 1999, Glacier National Park
At 11 in the morning, pedalling along the little road lost in thought, I see two women in cycling clothes waving at the roadside. I stop. The two women tell me they are travelling with a larger group of cyclists and were just having a second breakfast. The group had a support bus and the “organiser” had set up a buffet next to the bus. On 4 metres of table there were potato salad, pasta salad, crisps, bread, cake, orange juice and much more. The women said they had far too much and invited me to help myself. I did not turn down the invitation. Since I was asked where I came from, where I was going, how far per day, how many breakdowns and so on, I hardly had time to work my way through the buffet systematically from left to right in any halfway civilised manner. In the evening I camped in Glacier National Park as close to Logan Pass as possible. I stored my provisions overnight in iron boxes so they were safe from bears. I met 5 more cyclists on the campground. Swimming in the pool of a nearby mountain stream replaced the missing shower. The last night in the Rocky Mountains.
21 Aug 1999, Going-to-the-Sun Road
Indeed I saw the sun early in the morning as I rode my iron steed up the pass, but soon the rain caught up with me again. Logan Pass lies on the Continental Divide: all rivers rising to the west of it flow to the Pacific, all springs east of the pass pour their water into the Atlantic. A descent in the rain. After crossing three ridges, the last foothills of the Rocky Mountains, the view opened onto the Great Plains, the vast plains of the Midwest. A strong tailwind and the gently sloping road made the 80 km from Kiowa to Cut Bank a real pleasure. 2 1/4 hours at speeds of up to 63 km/h on a bumpy road, but who wants to brake when they are being pushed?
22 Aug 1999, Wheat, wheat, wheat
... as far as the eye can see. A dead straight road for more than 20 km. The railway, the road and the telephone poles run side by side. Parallel lines meet at infinity, and there you can see it with your own eyes. In the evening I stayed in Hingham, a village of about 200 inhabitants, which I want to describe in a little more detail here as representative of many villages in the Midwest: wedged between the railway and the peaceful country road “Highway 2”, the village streets unpaved. In the centre of the village there is a water tower and the City Park, a square lawn 100 m on each side. At one end of the village there are big silo towers where the grain of the surroundings is delivered by lorry and stored until it is carried on by rail. At the other end, next to the road, there is a petrol station and a bar with a shop attached. In the City Park there are a few picnic tables and a public toilet. In the evening 4 teenagers drive up and down the streets in an old land yacht, now and then disappearing towards the main road, but after 15 minutes at the latest they come round the City Park again. For hours. In City Parks you can generally pitch your tent for free; it is not a bad idea, however, to ask in the village first. In Hingham, for example, I got the valuable tip that the park’s sprinkler system has two circuits and tonight it was the western one’s turn to spray.
23 Aug 1999, In the middle of Harlem
Strong headwind all day. Here on the wide plains there are no hills or forests to stop such an east wind. Riding into the wind on flat ground in a middle gear is no fun. Since I always ride east, I only get sunburnt on the right half of my body. In Harlem, Montana, the sheriff unlocks the swimming pool shower for me in the evening. Ice cold, but nice all the same. I am very grateful for the fine-meshed mosquito net on my tent. A real plague of mosquitoes set in today.
24 Aug 1999, Glasgow
My campground neighbours that evening were a Native American and an architect from San Francisco, who had attended a festival of his tribe together. With him I drank my first beer in America: Budweiser. I praised it, but declined a second one, pointing to my athletic nature. “Interesting”, “different”, those were roughly my words, because what is a Bavarian spoilt by Augustiner supposed to say? The red wine his travelling companion was drinking appealed to me more.
25 Aug 1999, On the Indian reservation
I will not say anything more here about the injustices the White Man did to his Red Brother. In the Fort Peck Dam, completed in 1940, 96 million cubic metres of fill were used (that is one square kilometre filled up 96 m high). The dam is 6.5 km long and 76 m high. At 9 in the evening a woman cyclist arrived at the City Park of Culbertson. Kari from Olympia, Washington, who had ridden roughly the same route as me after starting on the Pacific on 1 August. I spent the next 5 days with her.
26 Aug 1999, Swimming in the Missouri
Something very pleasant for the cyclist are the laundromats. For about $2.50 you have fresh laundry within 90 minutes. In the evening a bath in the Missouri, wonderful after a hot day. We camped near an inn, Lund’s Marina, which had apple pie on offer.
27 Aug 1999, In the Badlands (headwind I)
For the next 6 days there was a headwind. Not a breeze, but a full-grown wind. The landscape around the Missouri is barren and at best allows extensive grazing. A coincidence that it was left to the Indians for a reservation? Between Williston and New Town there are about 100 km without shops, and most of the few houses you see are abandoned.
28 Aug 1999, Turtle Lake (headwind II)
Wind, wind, heavenly child. Steady but fierce from morning to evening, from the east. In addition a small whirlwind, a tornado and plenty of rain. In Montana I often saw locust plagues of biblical proportions on the roads, on their way from field to field. Here in North Dakota thousands of frogs are on the move, all desperate to cross the road.
29 Aug 1999, In the heart of North Dakota (headwind III)
“The heart of North Dakota”, that is how McClusky advertises itself. And it really is in the middle of the state. Connect the 4 corners of the rectangular North Dakota with diagonals and McClusky lies at the intersection. Rain and a gale all morning and no prospect of improvement made us turn into a pub at noon and, after staring desperately out of the window at the street for some time, ask for a room in the motel next door.
30 Aug 1999, A grand dinner (headwind IV)
Despite the headwind, but without rain, we managed more than 200 km today. A family with Norwegian ancestors was having a party in the evening in the City Park of Culbertson and invited us to join in the celebration/meal. After countless plates of pasta/potato/cucumber salad, grilled meat and sausages, crisps etc., there was coffee and cake. 10 slices of it found room in my stomach. A shower afterwards in the City Park, a rarity, and I slept like a log. Strangely without any stomach trouble.
31 Aug 1999, Fargo (headwind V)
Today Kari turned off to the north to approach her destination St Paul in an arc. I wanted to go to Fargo. The wind consequently turned to the south, where I wanted to go. I pedalled forward at 15 km/h with the greatest effort. Fargo is huge, laid out like a chessboard and actually has no attractions. But anyone who has seen the film should drop by if they are ever nearby. My evening excursion from the campground into town ended in a drive-in McDonald’s on the main street, which differs from the other streets in Fargo only by its lowest number. There I had a milkshake and could read and watch the goings-on in the centre of Fargo. Grand.
1 Sep 1999, Minnesota (headwind VI)
Drizzle and more headwind. Mood rather gloomy. I rode on a motorway-like road on the hard shoulder to the southeast. There are days in America when there is simply nothing to see. Oh yes, Charles Lindbergh, who flew solo non-stop across the Atlantic in 1927, lived for a long time in Little Falls, and that is just around the corner.
2 Sep 1999, Mosquitoes
Mosquitoes. You must never drop below the m.i.v. - mean insect velocity, which is about 12 km/h, because otherwise you are dead. The weather here and today is oppressively humid. Montana was considerably drier. That is the only difference, it sometimes seemed to me. No, here in Minnesota they mainly grow maize and do dairy farming. It looks like Lower Bavaria. Here you no longer have the picture of the cowboy riding off into the sunset across endless dry plains in your head, no longer the picture of 4 combine harvesters mowing a field side by side, slightly staggered. “Europe” begins in Minnesota. Well, perhaps there are a few differences.
3 Sep 1999, In the middle of nowhere
In the evening I camped in Cloney, a village of about 17 inhabitants in Wisconsin. Behind a bar. That evening I was the only guest there. I bought a few beers and a frozen pizza from the couple who run the place, which they baked in a small oven behind the counter. We talked about America, God and the world. The tent was wet again, and at some point a second guest came to buy some cigarettes. That was it. These are the days ...
4 Sep 1999, Campground full
Today in Eau Claire; the picture next to it shows what it looks like there. I know many people who used to live there, and it became clear to me why they all wanted to leave. Today was a holiday, the end of summer, so to speak. Half of America is camping over the weekend. The campground I headed for in the evening was overfull, as it said at the entrance. But the lady at the entrance to the state park said straight away that since I am a cyclist I can stay, and I do not even have to pay anything.
5 Sep 1999, Hospitable America
Again today hardly a free spot in Emily Lake State Park. While scanning the rows I rode past a family and asked them about a free spot down the road. 50 m away something was free. I was pitching my tent there when after about 15 minutes the father of the family came by in his big jeep to tell me I was invited to dinner. By the time he had turned his big car around on the road, I had already arrived at their campsite on foot. His daughter was there too, who later proudly showed me about 500 photos of a motor racing arena where she had been with her boyfriend last weekend. Admission $200, 15 hours by car, about 150,000 spectators. At first glance the photos were all the same, a giant cauldron full of people and, barely visible even with a magnifying glass, the snapshot of a few racing boats. There were hamburgers, they had 6 patties with them, and 3 of them ended up in my stomach after polite but apparently unconvincing “no, that really isn’t necessary, aren’t you hungry at all” and so on. The campground was mosquito-free, the tent even dry in the morning and the showers warm. I had almost forgotten that cycling can be fun. Oh yes, I also discovered an ALDI today, but on Sunday it is closed, as in good old Germany.
6 Sep 1999, Tom from Manitowoc
Having arrived in Manitowoc I looked for the tourist information, yes, they have one there, and looked for a place to leave my bicycle, because I wanted to make a side trip to Chicago by bus. Tom, the friendly person at the visitor center, helped me out of a fix and the bicycle was stored in the basement.
7 Sep 1999, Chicago I
A few days of rest from cycling and the chance to read German newspapers in the library. Today you can of course read the Süddeutsche Zeitung anywhere in the world on the internet, except perhaps on the bike.
8 Sep 1999, Chicago II
Of course Chicago has more than just cows. But it is also known for its slaughterhouses. Famous are its museums, the skyscrapers, one of the tallest buildings in the world, the music, the first McDonald’s restaurant and Al Capone and his friends.
9 Sep 1999, Chicago III
Chicago was the birthplace of the modern skyscraper in the late 19th century. Chicago’s well-known architects include Daniel H. Burnham, Louis Sullivan, William Le Baron Jenney, Frank Lloyd Wright and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Cultural sights include the Art Institute of Chicago, the Chicago Cultural Center, the Field Museum of Natural History, the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium and the Museum of Science and Industry, to name just a few.
10 Sep 1999, Chicago IV
This is not a BSE cow, this cow is Irish.
11 Sep 1999, Ferry across Lake Michigan
Early in the morning by bus from Chicago back to Manitowoc. The SS Badger ferry is the only ship connection across Lake Michigan. The lake is so big that from the middle you can no longer see the shores. It is about 100 km “wide” there. By now it gets dark considerably earlier, so I often pitch my tent in the dark.
12 Sep 1999, Walhalla, Nirvana, Paris, Remus
you can see the influence of the Old World in the place names. I only wonder who gave the names, because the places behind the names often have barely 200 inhabitants. By the way, there is no “Nirvana” town sign, probably the victim of souvenir hunters. Oh yes, here is my thanks to British Airways. I slept soft and warm every day on the blanket I got from them during the flight.
13 Sep 1999, Ithaca, but still not home
... unlike my role model Odysseus. But I too now wanted to go home. The weather became noticeably cooler and the days shorter. The people I met on the campgrounds in the evenings were ever more depressing, the traffic ever denser, and I already had my destination New York in my head.
14 Sep 1999, Back to Canada
Over the Port Huron - Sarnia bridge there was a shuttle service for cyclists. A remark on the subject of safety: when travelling alone there are two ways of shopping in the supermarket: either you take off all the panniers and fill two shopping trolleys with them and then need another quarter of an hour until everything is back in the right place, or you leave the bike outside and take only your money. I always chose the latter, nothing happened and I had a pleasant time. As for camping, I made no unpleasant acquaintances apart from mosquitoes. I do not mean that America is a model of safety, but if you keep your eyes and ears a bit open, you can get by alone, too.
15 Sep 1999, The swallow flew across Lake Erie
...“Who is John Maynard?” :)
16 Sep 1999, Buffalo
Back in the USA again. Now I am already in the state of New York. In the evening I have some bad luck. Darien State Park, the place I had chosen to camp, lies under a rain cloud. 2 km further north the sun shines down dazzlingly.
17 Sep 1999, The daily madness
an eternal up and down here in the east of the USA. The 200 km daily stage becomes an ordeal. In the morning I now have to ride with gloves and a hat. I got up before 6 every day, because when Eos, the rosy-fingered, saffron-robed goddess of the dawn, blinks down and her tears fall on the grass, that is surely the most glorious time. On the right yet another Ithaca, this time in the state of New York.
18 Sep 1999, It gets cold
Today I had to pitch my tent in the pitch-dark forest and the batteries of my torch were flat. I carried a small solar charger for such purposes, but of course that was of limited use in such a situation.
19 Sep 1999, Up and down
why can’t roads be built alongside a river? No, someone got it into their head that the country road has to climb the steep bank every few kilometres, about 200 metres of climbing, and then down again, and that 5 times, not to mention the many hills in this area.
20 Sep 1999, Cycling in New York
After an almost sleepless night I set off at 5 in the morning. It was 115 km to the city limits of New York, to the George Washington Bridge. Then you are on the peninsula of Manhattan. Turn right, down Broadway, don’t let red lights and honking cars irritate you, a little lap in Central Park. Past Times Square to the World Trade Center, past Wall Street, took the wrong ramp onto the Brooklyn Bridge (not the pedestrian area, but the 3-lane motorway without a hard shoulder), took a slightly wrong turn in Brooklyn, whereupon I left the not very inviting area at great speed. After a few more minor adventures, including a security guard who under no circumstances wanted to take my bicycle on the shuttle bus to the airport, although a sign said “Cyclists take the shuttle bus”, a sign that as a cyclist you can only reach by disregarding all traffic rules and good manners, including driving the wrong way on the grass strip of a motorway, I reached JFK Airport. 2 hours later I was already in the air.
21 Sep 1999, Munich
Having arrived in Munich I reassembled my bicycle at the airport and cycled home.
“... suppose Munich were Manhattan, then I am from Memphis ...”
Daily stages
| 11 Aug | Week 1 | Vancouver | British Columbia | 21 |
| 12 Aug | Sedro Wooley | Washington | 199 | |
| 13 Aug | Diablo | 139 | ||
| 14 Aug | Twisp | 128 | ||
| 15 Aug | Republic | 177 | ||
| 16 Aug | Ione | 160 | ||
| 17 Aug | Sandpoint | Idaho | 144 | |
| 18 Aug | Week 2 | Troy | Montana | 159 |
| 19 Aug | Eureka | 150 | ||
| 21 Aug | Cut Bank | 170 | ||
| 22 Aug | Hingham | 162 | ||
| 23 Aug | Harlem | 133 | ||
| 24 Aug | Glasgow | 199 | ||
| 25 Aug | Week 3 | Culbertson | 185 | |
| 26 Aug | at the Missouri | North Dakota | 116 | |
| 27 Aug | Makoti | 140 | ||
| 28 Aug | Turtle Lake | 162 | ||
| 29 Aug | McClusky | 45 | ||
| 30 Aug | Cooperstown | 201 | ||
| 31 Aug | Fargo | 172 | ||
| 1 Sep | Week 4 | Wadena | Minnesota | 169 |
| 2 Sep | Foley | 166 | ||
| 3 Sep | Cloney | Wisconsin | 198 | |
| 4 Sep | Augusta | 155 | ||
| 5 Sep | Amherst | 192 | ||
| 6 Sep | Manitowoc | 184 | ||
| 7 Sep | Chicago | Illinois | 0 | |
| 8 Sep | Week 5 | Chicago | 0 | |
| 9 Sep | Chicago | 0 | ||
| 10 Sep | Chicago | 0 | ||
| 11 Sep | Scottville | Michigan | 0 | |
| 12 Sep | Six Lakes | 163 | ||
| 13 Sep | Genesee | 177 | ||
| 14 Sep | Warwick | Ontario | 162 | |
| 15 Sep | Week 6 | Turkey Point | 183 | |
| 16 Sep | Darien Lake | New York | 200 | |
| 17 Sep | Watkins Glen | 191 | ||
| 18 Sep | Lackawanna S.P. | Pennsylvania | 202 | |
| 19 Sep | Warwick | New Jersey | 175 | |
| 20 Sep | JFK Airport | New York City | 184 | |
| 21 Sep | Landshut | Bavaria | 61 |
