Mitchell to Sioux Falls, Completing the South Dakota Experience

Friday, July 12th.

Yesterday, HD and I left Chamberlain’s American Creek Campground on the Missouri River. That was a great place to stay. I enjoyed talking to Bill and figured I could’ve talked to him for several more hours. 

I had a diagonal cross wind all day, strongest between 10 am and 4 pm.  Shortly outside of Kimball, I met Jack and Jennika, father and daughter, who are cycling from Washingto DC to Washington state, where they live. They had flown to the east coast to support the son/brother, who is a serious triathlete and was participating in a major race. We shared highway advice. I had just been pulled over by a patrolman who said that in South Dakota, I had to cycle on the interstate FACING the traffic. Do you know what happens when a semi truck at 70 pmh passes you within 10 feet, facing you! You get a blast of wind pushing you backward. That was disconcerting and I had seen no signs telling me this law, nor had I seen it in my interstate cycling searches on the net. Also, I had been passed by dozens of state patrol cars since I hit SD and this is the first time I was pulled over to be told to go the wrong way on an interstate. I mean, the idea of going the wrong way, using an offramp as an onramp, gave me the jitters. So, I looked closer at the iphone maps and realized that, now that I had entered serious farm country, the country roads were set up like a grid and I could stay off the interstate all together, and yet still hit the towns. So, YAY! I then was glad for the patrol man’s advice, because it made me look more seriously for road alternatives.

Thus, I cycled on the country highways, next to cornfields, soybeans, alfalfa, and oat fields for the rest of the day. 

I arrived in Mitchell at about 8 pm, legs aching fiercely after the 70 windblown miles. I stopped at a gas station, got a drink, and went back outside to find the KOA on my cell phone. A beautiful 69 yr old lady came up to say hello. She asked a few questions in her very quiet, polite demeanor. Then I heard the story. OMG

At 55 yrs old, my age now, Karen buried her mom and then decided it was time to follow her dream. She says to me, “You have to live your passion, you know?” I know exactly! So, she bought a sailboat, learned the basics, and then went sailing along the US coastlines for the next NINE YEARS!!!! She lived extremely cheap, anchoring offshore instead of paying docking fees. She would take her dinghy into shore with her fold up bike on board. Then, she would take care of whatever shopping or landlubbing activity she could afford, and then get back to her boat. She did not sail in inclement weather and had no destination or time frame forcing her decisions. So, if the weather was not good, she stayed in her boat, anchored. I asked if she had written down her stories and she said, “not really, maybe just a few”. But she did say that the boating community is just that---a community. She felt safe wherever she went. And, she did have some fears to face when she was out on the open ocean. She periodically journaled, but without serious consistency. She keeps thinking about writing. Her grown children were very supportive, just like mine. Her grandchildren grew up thinking that grandmas just live on boats! 

Now she has bought a house and enjoys fixing it up. She is also doing some stained glass work. However, the travel bug has been nipping at her and she is wondering what adventure is next.

My kind of woman!

I cycled another 5 miles to get to the KOA. The owners knew I was coming but I arrived just past 9 pm, after hours. I picked out a tent spot and one of the owners came by in his little electric cart. He gave me a warm welcome and explained the available KOA services. Pretty standard. This was a very clean spot. However, the gnats, flies, and mosquitoes were brutal, especially since I was covered in salty, dried sweat and dirt. After pitching camp and showering, I donned my citronella bracelets and rubbed my skin with a drier sheet. The combo worked like a champ, as long as I got inside my tent! 

Thus, I retired to my nylon lodge, delighted that I had the opportunity to read a little. I read and read. My legs ached. I tried to sleep but the aching wouldn’t abate. 

I finally took ibuprofen around 2 am, read some more, and then tried to go to sleep. I don’t know how many hours I actually slept but now I know that I really need to do my leg exercises before I go to bed, especially after a grueling day. Or they can’t relax. I didn’t do them that night. Mistake!

So, today, I am in Mitchell. I did some work at the campground and then cycled into town. I am at the Corner Stone Cafe. They have coffees, teas, smoothies, and frappes. They have a small bakery and serve sandwiches, soups, and salads. I had a cup of fantastic tomato soup with a chunk of 7 grain bread. On the wall is a sign for “Frappe Vino”, a wine slush!! Fantastic! I had to tell my daughters about that one.

Now, I better gather my gear and head for the Walgreens. I have broken a vein on my right shin and I’m wondering if I can get a temporary solution. It was either from overwork or from banging it a few good times on the pedal when I was getting off or on the cycle. I also busted a microvein on my right thigh--that was from overwork and I’ve been doing that ever since I was a teenager. That type of injury I just let lie. I had a vascular surgeon shoot some of them once with a saline solution to make them magically disappear. And it worked! That can only be done on “spider veins”, not on a varicose vein. The broken vein on the leg will be a nasty varicosity. I’m wondering if my insurance will cover a fix. I don’t ever want a vein stripping, but maybe there is something less invasive. I don’t have the luxury of recovery time until I get back to Carlsbad, and that is too long and far away. 

A pair of toeclips on Henry David’s pedals might also be a good idea. Maybe less leg strain?

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Now it is Tuesday, July 16th. Let’s back up a bit.

On the afternoon on July 12th, after finishing up with the coffee shop, I rendezvouzed with Esteban, my dear friend from Carlsbad. He had been in Wisconsin for a work related conference, had some days to burn before his plane flight, and drove his rental car to Mitchell to say “Hi!” and to share the excitement of Mitchell’s famous Corn Palace with me. 

The Corn Palace. What a place!! Imagine a huge building, built like a palace with those rounded spires on top. The outside of the building is covered in corn. 

That’s right. Corn. 

Every year, new designs are chosen and the old corn cobs removed by hand. The current year’s crop is then used to decorate with the new designs. The artwork is usually done by student art majors at the University and a panel of judges then votes on the best submissions. These designs are then blown up on roofing paper and laid out like a paint by number grid. Twelve different corn colors are used to fill in the designs. The city of Mitchell contracts with a local farmer who grows the corn exclusively for the Palace, ensuring that his 12 different colored corn varieties are separated by fields to avoid cross-contamination. In June and July, corn husks from the previous year are applied. In August, the new corn is harvested and the corncobs are then applied. It costs $130,000 per year to redecorate. Sometimes, there is a drought and the corn harvest is not enough, so only part of the palace is redecorated. 

The designs are incredible. When the palace was first built in the late 1800’s and into the early 1900’s, the designs were more geometric and symbolic. Later, the designs took on figures and pictures. So, for example, initial designs included numerous Sioux designs. Later, the artwork depicted people in various scenes. 

On the inside of the palace, there are large panels on the walls of the auditorium representing the interactions and the eventual peace between the Native Americans and the settlers. These interior designs are redone about every 10 years.  

The Corn Palace is used not only for tourism and amazement, but also for high school and college sports, plays, concerts, and hired entertainment. When the auditorium is not being used for these purposes, the floor is set up as a gift shop. 

Well, this was simply incredible. 

After wandering the palace halls and getting the 15 minute tour, Esteban and I went to dinner. He is a fit man of 66 and watches his weight closely. Well, I’ve been eating quite a bit so was a bit disconcerted when he ordered only a cup of soup and a side salad. I did the same. Later that night, I had to supplement with trail mix! I am currently a calorie hog. It won’t last long---when this trip is done I will have to watch my intake. But for now, one of my enjoyments is eating!!

I would have been embarassed to add the french fries to my dinner. Although he would only have grinned and wouldn’t have teased me a bit. Thank you, Esteban. You are a real gentleman!

After dinner, we went to the campsite and Esteban pulled out the guitar and played a bit. That brought some attention and he was invited to another camp to play there as well. Which he did! A little after 10 pm, he hopped in his car to head back to Wisconsin. He had his sleep and drive schedule figured out.

A few hours earlier, I had asked him if he was a grandpa yet. I knew his daughter-in-law was expecting in July. He said, “not yet”! Well, while playing the guitar, he received a text from his son, complete with photo of the family, announcing the arrival of Timothy David Picazo, weight 7 lbs, 10 oz. So, Esteban left South Dakota as a grandpa!

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On Saturday, July 13th, I had a long ride ahead. My plan was to get to Lake Vermillion, about 5 miles from Canistota, SD. I took the country roads and then understood what South Dakotans do in the summer for fun. They ride motorcycles. I was passed in either direction by at least 20 groups, each with 4 to 10 cycles, one to two people on each cycle. Harleys and BMWs are the favorites in this area, it appears. The motorcyclists wave and smile as they drive by. They look like they are lovin’ it.

I had been thinking quite a bit about the farming families and how life has changed over the years. I was hoping I would come across a farmer’s wife who wanted to tell me a bit about her life. And my wish was granted.

Judy is a vivacious, lively, bright eyed, and friendly farmer’s wife who has raised her children and now has grandchildren. She saw me on the road while she was driving to her quilting group and then saw me again on the way back. She pulled over and came across the highway to ask where I was going and where I started. After answering her questions, I had the pleasure of asking her a few as well. She has lived in this area her entire life, except when she went to college. She married a local boy and moved to her husband’s family farm, which had been in his family for generations. At first they lived in the old farmhouse, but after the children started coming, they built a larger home. 

To me, it seems like we are getting bigger. Ever notice how much narrower they made the doorways prior to the 1960’s? When I was little, I thought my grandparents’ farmhouse in Illinois was huge. When I went back to see it as an adult, I realized that it was actually pretty small by today’s standards, especially since the 5 children shared 2 bedrooms. 

Isn’t it odd that you aren’t considered financially stable enough to adopt a child if that child can’t have his or her own private room? How times have changed.

Anyway, back to Judy. We shared stories like only two middle aged women can do. We talked about family, raising children, gardens, putting up food, and changing times. She said they grew corn and soybeans and also raised cattle on their farm. Her youngest son and his family live just down the road from them and this son has adopted the farming way of life. The other kids are spread out around the country. Changing times. 

We discussed the changing face of farming as so many of the smaller farms have been purchased by huge agribusiness firms. She and family are trying to hold out.

When I asked Judy, “What is your passion”?, she did not hesitate a moment. She said, “I’m a Believer. My Faith is my passion!” 

Then she said, “My other passion is my family, of course, but the first passion helps me deal with the 2nd passion!”  She said this with a laugh, a rapid wetting of the eyes, and then another laugh. 

What a great answer!!  We love our families but that love doesn’t come without some pain, along with the joy. And that is as it should be.

She is a Mennonite and loves her church, with all its idiosyncrasies---another family! 

Judy made an impression on me as soon as she stopped her car and came running across the street. What a vivacious women. She was wearing a deep purple shirt and a purple amethyst on a chain. Her styled white hair was a lovely contrast. When she talked about the quilting class, she took me to her car and pulled out her latest creation. It was a lavender, purple, pink, and white quilt of flowers and buttlerflies that she had sewn for her 5 month old granddaughter. 

I love deep colors. Judy wears her purple with style. 

I decided to go to Lake Vermillion via Canistota.  Earlier, I had missed a turn, adding about 8-10 miles to the ride. As I turned onto the road to get to Canistota, I noticed a small set of bleachers, about 6 brightly colored canopies, some trucks, and two long, rectangular patches of mud. While I didn’t see it, I could hear some very loud engine revving up. Building a racing patch??

When HD and I rolled into Canistota, a few blocks of Main Street were blocked off. There were about 3-4 inflated jumping thingees for the kids, a few stands where crafters sold jewelry and handmade crafts, a booth to buy hot dogs, and a flatbed trailer with amplified speakers arranged in the middle. On the other side of the flatbed trailer, about a dozen or more picnic tables and benches had been set up.

Looked like party time in Canistota. I stopped at the little local grocery store and asked a senior lady what was going on in Canistota that day. She answered that it is “sports days”---it started yesterday and finishes that night. 

I also asked about all the motels---there were several in town, considering the town had a population of only 600. She pointed out the Ortman Clinic--a group of chiropractors that set up shop in town. People from all over South Dakota come to Canistota and stay for a week to get alternative health care from the clinic. They have some very satisfied customers. In fact, the doctors bought the old brick hotel, which is on the historic registry. It is called the Ortman Hotel now and the docs purchased it as another way to offer services that their customers could afford. It had a restaurant attached to it called “The Brick Oven”, but it was closed that day. Anyway, I was advised to check it out.

So I did. 

Joseph is the young man who was standing at the check in desk across the wide, lovely entrance room. The hotel beckoned to a bygone era and the owners had lovingly kept the downstairs great room in excellent condition. A table with 100 yr old wooden chairs, bookshelves and game table, patterned carpet, and wide staircase to the lower landing made me want to investigate every nook and cranny. There was an old weight scale, still functioning, but I steered clear of that!! Joseph was very proud of the hotel and showed me all around. He took me upstairs in the oldest working elevator in South Dakota. It was controlled by a lever and the elevator operator had to stop it at just the right time to get the floors even. No push button automatics! Thus, only an employee could run it. So, we customers exercised our legs on the stairs.

The 2nd and 3rd floors were for the hotel patrons and the 4th floor was reserved for employees. Joseph lives on the 4th floor and does a bit of everything. He does the “techie” work, check in, porter, and cooks in the restaurant. He was in the military service, stationed in Japan, and now he plans on going to massage therapy school while he continues to work in the hotel. When he is licensed, he would like to go back to Japan and provide massage therapy for the American military and their families. In the meantime, he is enjoying the hotel, his home away from home. He was a personable guy and insisted on helping me unpack all my gear and then move HD to a hidden alley. 

In this hotel, all the unoccupied rooms are open---the doors are open, allowing you to see into all of the rooms. When you get your key, you can close your own door. This was delightful as it provided the opportunity to wander up and down the halls and look into the rooms. These rooms were redecorated a few decades ago--you could tell from the cheap manufactured tables/desks, beds, and chairs in the rooms. It was an interesting contrast---cheap pressed wood furniture inside the rooms in this elegant 100 year old brick hotel with the lacey curtains and patterned carpet in the hallways, narrow stairs going to each floor, common room on the 3rd floor, high ceilings downstairs, and that lovely old elevator. 

The price was unbeatable. Twenty six bucks plus tax for a total of $32!!! Hot water, small tv, comfy bed, and loads of old hotel charm. 

Outside my room, the sports day party began in the evening. I went downstairs and sat at one of the picnic benches while a cute young DJ started up some really good dance music. But there were no takers for the dancing. There were primarily young families with kids who all knew the local DJ and ran up to give requests. After listening for some time, I went to my room, watched tv, listened to kids laughing and singing in the street below. It was a wonderful midwestern summer night. 

I awakened in the morning to pouring rain. I got a late start as I went to bed way too late after watching a Hallmark movie I can’t even remember. But the late start was just as well, as the rain dissipated to a light drizzle by the time I got HD all packed up. In a few hours, I was able to remove my rain gear and ride through a cooler day, all the way into Sioux Falls, where I had a bed waiting for me in the home of Shawn and Julie Cleary.

I have a dear friend in Carlsbad, Mike Cleary. He is my “Irish brother of a different mother” and he was a great comfort when my mother died. My sisters and brother met him and we were convinced we are really related, some where back in our Irish past. Mike says that his mother, who is the matriarch in charge of her family geneology, does not think there is any connection. But we have Clearys in our old history and he just looks like family. His home town is not far from my dad’s home town and a Father Thomas Cleary married my parents. 

Mike told me that he might be able to hook me up with friends and family members in the Midwest as he comes from a large Irish Catholic family. So, my first joy was meeting Shawn and Julie. Shawn is his brother and looks just like him, only taller. They invited me into their home and treated me like family. We spent the evening outside on the back porch, eating an incredible meal, drinking a spot o’ wine, and talking about their family. They have two sons, Corbin and Nolan. Corbin is starting his medical residency here in Sioux Falls, on his path to be a physician. Nolan is a Franciscan brother, on his track to priesthood. 

They have much to be proud of. Both sons are bright, accomplished, and happy. When asked what gives them passion, both Shawn and Julie said “each other and our family”. Sigh...

Shawn is the president of a company that provides roadwork equipment and it keeps him quite busy. He was gone by 7 am the next morning. 

Julie has been working in the parochial school as a teacher’s aide for decades. She is a cornerstone of their parish, I think. She had spent the day helping at a wake for the husband of a dear friend and fellow teacher. She told me the story of Jim Jarding, who battled brain cancer for over a year. He called his disease “The Gift”, because he was diagnosed with terminal cancer yet he was given “the gift” of time to put his affairs in order, communicate with loved ones, and reflect on his life. He kept a blog. You can read some inspiring words at jimjarding@blogspot.com.

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In the morning, Monday, July 15th, I shared a light breakfast with Julie and packed up HD for another day on the road. First, I just had to go see the Sioux Falls in Sioux Falls. They were gorgeous. These falls are not falling from dizzying heights, but more like layers of separate, smaller falls, flowing over blocks of red quartzite. I read the history of the area and the falls are fed by the Big Sioux River. Apparently, it was really a huge river 150 years ago, so industry sprang up around the falls with a mill, power plant, quartzite mining, and railroads, damming the river to take advantage of hydroelectric power. Thus, the once forested area that attracted the settlers in the 1800’s became industrialized around the falls and the river shrank to a fraction of its original size. The city has done what they can to preserve the falls and now it is a park for all to continue to enjoy.

On the way out of town, I stopped at Sunshine Foods to pick up some fresh produce. With bananas, grapes, and cherries ready to pack, I was greeted by Doris, a local senior lady who was entranced with HD and the notion of its travels. She never married and says she was “a bit of a tomboy”, so she took advantage of every opportunity to cycle, travel, drive, and just explore throughout her life. She remains a vivacious, petite little lady with a lot of energy and plans for more travel. Good for you, Doris. 

As I said goodbye to Doris and packed up the produce, a man stopped to ask about HD as well. He had taken a photo of HD while I was in the store as his son is an avid cyclist, owns a shop, and sells trikes. But not like HD. So, we talked a bit about the cyle and what I like about my boy. 

Then it was onto the highway and into Iowa. Another chapter. 

Yet, I had enjoyed South Dakota---from the Black Hills steeped in Sioux history, Mount Rushmore, Rapid City, Wall and Wall Drug, 1880 Town, Buffalo preserve, and the Badlands---all gradually fading into farmland in the eastern part of the state and culminating in the Sioux Falls. I love South Dakota.