Another fantastic September weekend.
After being away for a longer Labor Day weekend, it was time to stay home and get some work done though I did get to enjoy 2 breakfasts with friends, coffee at Diamond's and some time working on the never ending job of sorting things in mom's house. Even managed to get some riding miles in.
A loop yesterday across the river with a nice blend of gravel and then today, a ride on both sides of the river; the breakfast stop with a group of sport bike riders. After we ate, they headed south and headed north to complete my counterclockwise loop around Lake Pepin.
Stumbled upon this failed roadway yesterday, just outside of Elmwood. A dry ditch (not unlike ours) that isn't always dry. With our multiple rains with multiple inches of rainfall, all ground is saturated and the water in these deep valleys always manages to flow downhill.
Today, it was an early start to meet the quick riders across the river in Pepin, Wisconsin. This weekend the town is celebrating their Laura Ingalls Wilder Days. I rode through yesterday midday and it was very busy. Our breakfast this morning was before the parade and before things really started getting busy.
In another month or so, the Flyway Film Festival is returning across the river. We're really hoping that there are a few holes in our schedule so that we can attend some of the activities; will be our first time. For those of you in the area, I'd encourage you to try and make the trip.
Nice beautiful sunshine, and it doesn't look too cold either.ReplyDelete
That closed road doesn't look very good. Was that an engineering fail knowing what the rains do? Or just simply a mother nature causing havoc?
Doug every so often when I read about your life in the deepest mid-west, I am reminded that my paternal ancestors (the French half of my DNA) left their paw prints all over your beloved landscape.ReplyDelete
I wonder who Pépin was? I bet he was the annoying dweeb in the back half of the canoe who only did most of his 17th century explorer-dude duties right, and made hilarious, if not life-threatening, bungles of the rest.
He probaly whined a lot about not having stuff named after him, as the weeks of schlepping southwest-ish wore everyone down. Finally, they camped for the night, and, exasperated with his droning on and on around the campfire in his annoying way, they shut him up by naming the lake where they were camped after him, after making him swear an oath not to ask for any more things to be named for him.
Let's imagine he was Jean-François de Longchamp Pépin, courreur de bois et apprentis porteur.