Heat, humidity, headwinds

Leaving Minneapolis (and all the comforts of home, even if it wasn't my own home) was not easy.  First of all, my leg still sported the biggest, blackest bruise in history and I limped when I walked; secondly, it was the hottest July 29th in a decade; and thirdly, for the last two days my bicycle had been making a funny noise.  After eight weeks, you begin to recognize the noises it is supposed to make.

There was nothing I could do about the first two problems, but the pinging sound that emanated at irregular intervals (between 20 seconds and two minutes) from some unidentified location was driving me nuts.  I kept stopping to inspect the wheels, the drive train, and the frame to see if I could spot what was causing it.  The bike shop where I had taken the bike the day before hadn't been able to find anything, and said it might be the spokes rubbing against one another.  I may be the only person in the history of bicycles to have oiled the spokes of a bicycle wheel where they cross.  Personally, I prefer to think of this as a charming obsessive-compulsive personality trait.

As the day progressed, I was working my way into a very bad mood.  There were endless suburbs and car traffic, the heat was unbearable, and all I could hear was "ping, ping ... ping ... ping, ping".  When I stopped for a Gatorade at a convenience store, I struck up a conversation with another cyclist (one who cycled 10,000 miles per year!) who refused to let the heat keep him at home.  He recommended a bike shop to me that was only a half mile away, so I decided to give it a shot.  The overriding consideration in the back of my mind was the fear that I would have a major mechanical problem down the road, when I might be 100 miles from a decent bike shop.

Penn Cycles in Woodbury, MN, tore the rear wheel apart and eventually found the problem: the rear hub.  The ball bearings inside were black, pitted, and dirty (they are supposed to be smooth, shiny and well-lubricated) --- possibly from all the gravel and sand I had to trudge through whenever I hit road construction.  In this sad condition, the hub could have frozen up in a few days or weeks.  I can only imagine what my mood would be like with a bicycle that wouldn't roll anymore.  At any rate, about an hour and a half later, I was back on the road, gliding along smoothly and noiselessly, and greatly relieved that Rusty was in tip top shape.

The  weather report for the area quoted a "heat index" today of 110 degrees (43 C.). To my knowledge, California meteorologists don't seem to use the "heat index" much (or perhaps I simply haven't paid close attention), but I gather that it's the flip side of "wind chill factor": that is, you take the "raw" temperature, and factor in the humidity (for "heat factor") or the wind velocity (for "chill factor").  So when I say that it was hot, it was really hot.  So hot that the tar used to fill the cracks in the cement pavement melted enough to grab my tires if cycled in their grove. So hot that the perspiration dripping from my forehead coursed over my sunglasses, obscuring my vision.  So hot even that I decided not to curse the headwinds.  The headwinds might have made the difference between succumbing to heatstroke and staying cool enough to endure the heat and humidity.  Most people had the intelligence to go swimming rather than bicycle in the heat.

As a side note, my friend, Sylvia, sent me an email the other day saying how hot it has been in Germany too.  When I read in the newspaper that 130 deaths had been attributed to the heat in California, I couldn't help but think about global warming (or using my new German word, "Klimaerwärmung").  It also made me wonder if the assertion by an authority like oil millionaire George W. Bush that global warming cannot be attributed to man-made causes might not have its similarities to the assertion by the R. J. Reynolds Company that cigarette smoking cannot possibly cause lung cancer.  But I digress ...

Oh, and hills!  Did I mention hills?

I never expected Minnesota to present me with the first hill I couldn't climb, but the rolling hills along the St Croix River (no French pronunciation, please, it's "croy" as in "toy") defeated me.  It wasn't the climb over the Continental Divide, it was those lousy hills and headwinds trying to blow me backwards to northern Minnesota.  I finally got off my bike and walked a quarter of a mile.  I suppose the heat may have played a factor.  I'm almost certain that my bruised leg played some role in this pathetic performance, because an hour later, stopped at a stop sign, I almost keeled over because my left leg could barely support the weight of me and all the gear.  I am sure the passing motorists thought I was drunk.

The bluffs didn't stop after the St. Croix merged into the Mississippi either.  Just like the river itself, they just got bigger.  Luckily, the roads stayed as close to the river bank as possible, affording a flatter ride and fabulous views.  The Mississippi is an incredibly scenic waterway, with lush foliage on either side and often on islands in the middle of the river as well.  At one point, the river is 3 miles (5.8 km) wide and this fact fooled the early French explorers into naming it "Lake Pepin" (Pepin was the father of Charlemagne).

Forget what you learned in school: Iowa is not flat!

Ever since leaving Minneapolis, my route has gone south rather than east, much (but not all) of it along the Mississippi River.  I kept waiting for great expanses of flat terrain, covered with corn, where I would roll along effortlessly humming tunes about River City, Iowa, and marching bands playing John Philip Souza tunes.  I did find terrain covered with corn, but I was too exhausted from the endless uphill-downhill to hum any tunes.  Just look at the photograph here.  Does this look flat to you?

And did I mention headwinds?  Oh yes, my forward progress was at the astounding rate of 7-8 miles per hour.  Once again, I had to pedal to go downhill.  This year it seems that the weather gods are sending strong, hot winds from the Gulf of Mexico up to the central states.  If I were headed north, that would be great.  Unfortunately, for the past week I have been heading directly into these winds, wondering all the while why our supposed ally, Canada, can't send a few pleasantly cool breezes down from its northern regions? 

Every day this past week has provided beautiful scenery for my little Canon S70 to capture and share.  I think my favorite spot this week was Elkader, Iowa.  Elkader has only 2,500 residents, but somehow built a charming town on the Turkey River [I agree, the name does not conjure up exactly the right image].  The downtown has many handsome brick structures, and a exquisitely restored 1909 Opera House.  Even though it only has two arches, the 1889 Stone Arch bridge that crosses the river is the longest keystone arch bridge west of the Mississippi.  It gives the town a very Old World flavor.  When you sit on the cafe terrace above the river, looking at the stone arch bridge, and see the four-sided clock tower of the County Courthouse looming above, it only takes a before-dinner cocktail and a small flight of fancy to imagine oneself in a Parisian outdoor cafe with a smaller version of the Seine flowing by.

I spent my night in Elkader camped at the city park, on the far side of the river and on the south side of town.  There is a beautiful River Walk connecting the park to downtown.  It takes about ten minutes to cover the short distance.  I think that one of my fondest memories of Elkader was walking back to the campground shortly after sunset, and seeing, for the first time in my life, fireflies illuminating the warm night air along the river.  It was magical.

For photographs of all the lovely landscapes and towns I've seen over the past week, you can follow this link.  For more about The Accident, read on.

Note: Depending on how your browser displays the photos, it may not be obvious that there are captions for all the photos, beneath each one.

The American medical system

I haven't seen the need to dwell on the ramifications of my encounter with a pickup truck, but if truth be told, I've spent the last ten days in some pain.  For some inexplicable reason, it hurts not so much when I cycle, but mostly when I walk, or when I try to bend my leg (to take off my shoes, for example).  It does hurt to cycle if I push too hard on the pedals going uphill.  I have to let my left leg "warm up" in the morning, but if I'm just a little bit careful, the leg injury is not a big negative until I stop cycling for the day.  Although it gets a little better every day, the advice I have been getting from friends back home was solid: I really should have a doctor take a look at it.

America has, without a doubt, the best medical care in the world --- but only if you can get it.  Usually the big obstacle is money. I've tried several times over the past 10 days to get my poor, bruised butt and left thigh looked at.  A couple of days after the accident, I called Blue Cross Blue Shield (my insurance carrier) to get a referral to a doctor in one of the towns I would be passing through.  In Winona, MN, there was a Dr. Retzenger, a nice German-sounding name that --- to me anyway (Neckel, remember?) --- inspires confidence.  What I didn't factor in, though, was that I am nobody to these people and they couldn't care less.  Even with the dramatic lead-in line "I've been involved in an auto accident with my bicycle", the response was "I'm so sorry, but we don't have any appointments available."  So much for the Hippocratic Oath.

The next morning, since my motel [you don't expect to camp when I'm injured, do you?] was right next to the Winona hospital, I stopped in at the Emergency Room.  The nurse at the reception desk told me that the physician on duty was a big cyclist.  That, too, inspires confidence.  She also said that if I had pain walking, but no pain cycling, I might possibly have a fractured hip.  Jesus, you can't say something like that to a hypochondriac!!  I can already see myself unable to walk ever again within a few days.

A phone call to Blue Cross Blue Shield sobered me up.  A visit to the emergency room was not an emergency if it occurs more than 72 hours after the accident.  If I were to proceed with my folly (a doctor's visit, possible X-rays, etc.), I could be faced with a $300 deductible before the insurance covered even a small percentage of a possible $1000+ ER bill.  Frugal to the bottom of my little black heart, never walking again was beginning to look like the preferable alternative.

What was I going to do anyway?  Have my hip placed in a cast?  Spend the next two months in a small town in middle America?  I might die of boredom!  I refocused my mental energies on imagining the nutrient rich blood coursing through my arteries, bringing the essential healing powers of rib eye steak and cabernet sauvignon to the hip, femur, and surrounding muscles.  I could feel myself getting stronger by the minute.

On the other hand, the hypochondriac side of me continued to worry.  Finally, ten days later, I found a clinic in Dyersville, Iowa (population 2,500) where I could see a physician without an appointment weeks ahead of time.  According to Dr. Thomas, it appears that in spite of the bruising and continuing pain, there are no broken bones and the injuries are now  healing.  The trauma had caused a lot of internal bleeding and swelling.  The bruising was only a superficial indication of the deeper bleeding.  On the other hand, the bruises were healing and I experience less pain now.  It still hurts to walk, and I still limp, but it's better than before.

This is, of course, all good news.  There is even more good news: my blood pressure is almost normal --- 124/72.  This proves incontrovertibly that my health is contingent upon long, leisurely vacations on a bicycle, completely free of the worry that the production support cell phone might ring anytime day or night, summoning me to the office to work on a software problem.  I figure that a good attorney and a shady doctor ought to be able to make something out of this.  I am already planning my next European bicycle tour ...