Distance covered today: 200 miles
Distance covered total: 1,551 miles
Estimated mileage remaining: 1,949 miles (56% left to go)
When morning broke in Rock Island, I had been expecting to be greeted by more of the perfect weather that had helped make yesterday’s drive so enjoyable. That was far from the case. It was cold and damp, with a steady mist and light rain coming from dull gray skies. Basically, it looked like I was back in New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan again.
I had never been to Iowa before, a surprising fact considering that my college years were spent in southern Minnesota (then again, maybe that says something about Iowa). To put it another way, if my life’s travels were documented on an antiqued-looking nautical map, Iowa would’ve been the place in some remote sea where the black and foreboding sea monster illustration is etched. I had really been looking forward to finally seeing what all the fuss was about, and had envisioned a glorious introduction to the state, crossing over a sun-splashed Mississippi River on that towering arched bridge shown in the movie Sugar, and then taking a triumphant picture at a colorful “Welcome to Iowa” sign…
But none of my fantasized “Welcome to Iowa” scenarios played out, and what was supposed to be a symbolic river crossing amounted to an anticlimactic letdown. The bad weather had a lot to do with it, but the route I had chosen took me across an ordinary, rusty bridge that had no “Iowa Welcomes You” sign on the other side. It really wasn’t that big of a deal- on my only other drive out West, I remembered thinking that the Missouri River, not the Mississippi, unofficially heralded entrance into the West- but when you spend heaps of mostly uneventful hours on a scooter, you look forward to stupid little things like state welcome signs. They provide a sense of gratification and the illusion of forward progress, clearly mark the start of a new chapter of the journey, and break up some of the monotony of driving through the Upper Midwest.
Getting over my disappointment, I motored through the bustling river town of Davenport, the largest of the Quad Cities. Davenport was big enough to get slightly lost in, but it tapered off soon enough, and then I found myself surrounded by the world famous cornfields of Iowa. Who would’ve suspected, but those tattered-map sea monsters I mentioned earlier weren’t anywhere to be found in The Hawkeye State. There was however, an ocean of corn, churning tirelessly in winds that would make even the scurviest and most peg-legged sailors yearn for the safety of the harbor. The ferocious crosswinds blew me around within my lane, making driving difficult and miserably cold, as I found myself yet a couple hundred miles from pulling into port in far-off Ames.
I spent the morning carving my way northward towards Highway 30, and then turned left once I got there. And that just about concluded my turning for the day, as Route 30 would take me 130 miles in one long, straight, boring line all the way to Ames.
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| Davenport, IA, on the banks of the Mississippi. |
Just a few miles down the road I pulled into the town of Mount Vernon, where I had a lunch engagement with a friend from Carleton named Alex. Alex, a Mount Vernon native, had generously offered to treat me to lunch at a place called the Lincoln Café, on the town’s handsome main street. Along with Cornell College, the Lincoln Café is Mount Vernon’s claim to fame, having garnered praise from a long list of newspapers, magazines, and cooking shows (and deservedly so, as I would attest after having eaten there). Evidently management doesn’t let all the accolades get to their head, as the place retained a down-to-earth feel, and struck me as having perfectly captured the quintessential small-town diner ambiance. It definitely gets my endorsement if you’re hungry and find yourself in east-central Iowa.
Shortly after my delightful lunch in Mount Vernon, I passed through Cedar Rapids, which is the kind of town that I would’ve half-jokingly made a big deal about if the movie Cedar Rapids (which I haven’t even seen) hadn’t beat me to the punch. Apparently the movie comically portrays the bright lights and fast times that I’m sure characterize Iowa’s second largest city, which is notorious for living life on the edge. I did my best to avoid the fun and craziness, remaining resolute about covering another hundred-plus miles to Ames.
After Cedar Rapids though, Route 30 turned into the very type of road that I had been trying all trip to avoid- an ugly divided highway with exits, billboards, litter, truck stops and traffic blowing past me in excess of 65 mph. I was still legally allowed to drive on this stretch of highway, but it wasn’t very enjoyable, so I tried blazing my own path on country roads running parallel to Highway 30. This experiment was short lived, as these country roads were almost all gravel or raw dirt, and were often marked with warning signs that read “Caution: Minimum Maintenance Road… Enter at Your Own Risk.” I felt tough after conquering my first risky dirt road, but pretty soon I decided to get back on 30 and just gut it out all the way to Ames.
Life on the divided highway was bearable, but cold. By this time, the skies had cleared up, but the cold persisted. Temperatures were hovering around 50 degrees, but felt way more frigid with the relentless winds swirling about. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until stopping for lunch back in Mount Vernon, where I experienced those shivers that start once you walk indoors, which lasted unabated for quite a while. While exposed to the elements out on the road though, the most telltale sign of the penetrating cold were the stalactites of snot that would regularly issue from my nose in another graphic display of the gritty demands of transcontinental scooting.
As for the scenery, I found the claims of Iowa’s flatness and boringness to be overblown. Corn is not necessarily synonymous with boring, especially when there are gently rolling hills, river valleys, and pockets of trees on hand to inject some variety and greenery into the landscape. For the second consecutive day, the ride’s visual highlight was provided by another massive wind farm near Ames, with the white turbines glowing brightly in the setting sun.
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| The Metro doesn't back down from a challenge. |
As that last sentence suggests, yet again, the sun was setting while I was still in transit. Driving directly into its blinding rays I could scarcely see the road ahead of me (not that I really needed to, since it was so straight), but I was more concerned about the danger lurking behind me. I was afraid that cars and trucks closing in on me from behind might not be able to make out my puny silhouette against the blazing sun, and would splatter me on their grill like a bug. I kept a watchful eye on my rearview mirror, and there were a couple instances when semi-trucks barreling toward me swerved out of my lane at the last second. I was proud of my awareness, but also glad that I never had to perform an emergency swerve over to the shoulder (where I would risk careening off of Iowa’s many sheer cliff faces).
The onset of night didn’t make things any warmer, and I’d heard whispers of frost warnings being issued overnight (in mid-September no less!). Fortunately I was spared the development of any Dumb and Dumber-esque snot icicles as Ames sprang suddenly from the all-encompassing cornfields, and not too long after sunset I had reached the apartment of my friend Josh, a Voorheesville native currently in grad school at Iowa State.
Almost immediately after rolling into Josh’s driveway and plopping my backpack inside his place, we went out for dinner. So far on the trip, I’d been trying to get my hosts to take me to iconic places that came highly recommended by locals and were regarded as “can’t miss” dining destinations. This doesn’t necessarily mean I was seeking high-falutin’ gourmet restaurants, but rather places that were unique, had character, and would be more than simply a place to ingest calories. In food jargon, I wanted a cultural experience as my side dish (if not main course). Josh really came through in this category, delivering a visit to a very memorable dining establishment.
We went to a restaurant called Hickory Park. This dimly-lit place was a true Western saloon-style slaughterhouse (swinging doors and all), said to serve 20,000 pounds of meat a week! Carefully perusing their menu of good old American heart-stopping meals, my attention was drawn to something called the Saucy Southerner, which Josh laughingly told me was all of the undesirable and throwaway cuts of meat lumped into a sandwich and disguised under a masking agent cloak of sauce (apparently only a slight step above the “Potted Ham” described in The Jungle by Upton Sinclair).
Though fascinated by the Sloppy Southerner (a fitting nickname that I gave it by accident), I bailed on it at the last minute, opting instead for a chicken entrée that came with better side dishes. One could say that I chickened out.
As is the case in most college towns, Iowa State University is the lifeblood of the community, so it was fitting that my time in Ames ended with a tour of campus. I knew very little about ISU prior to my visit, but I came away with a favorable impression of the place thanks to a combination of the aesthetically pleasing grounds, my behind the scenes look at “The Bone Room” in the geology/paleontology building, and the nice bunch of Cyclones who showed me a good time at the slaughterhouse.
Even in the face of gale-force winds and bitter cold, my first taste of the Hawkeye State was a good one- especially in a literal sense, given my stops at two memorable restaurants. Although my digestive system was probably grateful I’d avoided it, I still felt pangs of regret for not grabbing the Sloppy Southerner by the horns (or more aptly, by the entrails!).
Shout-Outs:
-Alex, for treating me to a great lunch at the Lincoln Café in Mount Vernon. I owe ya one!
-Josh and friends, for the fun introduction to Iowa State and the town of Ames. You guys sure come up with some creative solutions for the fill-in-the-blank bunny faces on the slaughterhouse placemats.
Town(s) of the Day:
Mount Vernon, IA; Ames, IA
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