Still moving
Sep. 3rd, 2010 12:03 amMinneapolis was great. I had a letter of introduction from Marna for Lois Bujold (and a gift of chocolate from Stubbe's), but got into town too late to meet her. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
minnehaha and I made our personal acquaintance, I was threatened with the spectre of "The Guestbook" pursuing me like some phantom wraith, should I fail to sign it, grabbed a shower, visited some, and pondered (in response to B's question, "how long do we have you") the idea of laying up I'd covered a bit more than 1,200 miles in four days, most of it on 2-lane roads with opposing traffic, looked at the weather, thought about meeting Lois for breakfast and figured taking a down day was a good idea (and my, did that prove prescient).
So wonderful dinner at Penninsula was had. All manner of pleasantly spiced and flavored things (lamb, shrimp, squid, tofu, noodles, etc.) were enjoyed by the 10-11 of us who were there. I was able to put faces to names (and am a loss to name everyone who was there). Afterwards went for ice cream. I opted for a single scoop of banana-coffee. The flavor was "wrong" but very good. The banana was subtle, and the coffee wasn't (though it was rich, and complex. It wasn't retiring, but it was nuanced).
B and K headed to the State Fair, I to a local eatery, where I had a nice time meeting Lois (Marna thought we would get on, and we seem to have). In the interest of not wanting to pester her with silly (or, if not silly, too often asked) questions about her books, we talked about military stuff (she quizzed me some, I told stories) and Russian, and some things related to her books, and the like. I now have an autographed copy of Сетаганда.
Went back to the Laughing Water, puttered about some, and in the early evening we planned a dinner party (which had been decided the night before). A leg, and some steaks, of lamb had been set to thaw. B and headed out to get some stuff. I peeled, and chopped some celeriac, and (come the time) stirred a grain pilaf, and broiled the steaks. A couple of bottles were opened to breathe, and the five of us (lj user =lsanderson), and (the name escapes me, I think it was Lydia) enjoyed the lamb; two ways, carrots, onions and celeriac (cooked beneath the leg), eggplant cooked in vinaigrette and ground chili) and bread, with a Rioja, and a Crozes Hermitage. The first was excellent, the second, superb. It was rich, earthy, fruity. It had that dusty quality which only comes with "old" wine (it was a '92, as old as my BMW). There aren't many vinters in the US even trying to make wines large enough to lay up long enough to get there.
A beet and chevre salad, on butter lettuce followed, and strawberries and ice cream for dessert.
In the morning I got up, wrote in the Guest Book (a lovely book, and full of splendid comments; not signing it would have been unkind in the extreme), had some coffee, did some visiting and took my pleasantly regretful leave.
Into I-35W (South) and into easy running. Two lane, no need to engage in risky passing, speed limits above 55 (and honored more in the breach). The road skirted Des Moines, so I didn't really have the chance to see any of the people I might have called on. Through Omaha and into Lincoln. I'd toyed with the idea of pressing on a bit further, but when I got to Omaha, the horizon was dark. As I saw Lincoln coming into view, so too the ribbons of white flickered to the ground. While I was parking the bike, the rain began to fall.
Got my room (the clerk was as close to an audio-animitron as one is ever likely to meed; nothing one said could derail him from he various set pieces. I got to hear them all twice, because I was behind someone else). I walked to the restaurant across the way, had a bite and headed back. I'd gotten damp going over... I was drenched getting back.
A warming shower, and thence to bed.
The day was high clouds, and a bit of breeze. Got breakfast, and headed out.
Oh My God. The wind was a terror. It shook me like a terrier works a rat. It was a trade-off. The faster I went, the greater the combined speeds, but the less the time I was abused. I think the combined speeds, at times, got to 120-130 miles an hour. Three times I was pushed more than half a lane to the left. I don't know how much time I spent with the bike heeled into the wind. I spent time with my gut clenched and my breath bated, as though lifting a great weight.
I came to loathe vehicles. The wind, by itself, was horrid. Add a vehicle and it became an unholy terror. Trucks were the worst, single offender, but car in combination could be worse. I think (from empirical evidence, turbulence of the vehicle disturbed the wind in strange ways; so that instead of being a mere force (pretty much from one direction) it became an unpredictable (and improbable, a couple of times it seems there was a sudden low pressure area, into which I was pulled. I suspect it was just the leaning into the wind causing me to drift when the wind tailed off, but it was disconcerting).
I had lunch in Kearny, Neb. For about an hour that the wind wasn't too bad. Then it kicked up again. I did 500 miles today. I'm beat. I spent most of the 6 hours I was moving with a death grip on the handlebars, my helmet being tossed about like a bobblehead, my jacket crawling up my right armpit and wind being shoved up my nose when I checked behind me (this is less fun than it sounds [and I can hear you saying it doesn't sound fun... you are right, and as unfun as you think it sounds: it's less fun than that).
I am hoping my run to Salt Lake tomorrow (330 miles) will not be as wind afflicted. If it is, I'm done when I get to Salt Lake. If not, then I will push on to Wendover.
minnehaha and I made our personal acquaintance, I was threatened with the spectre of "The Guestbook" pursuing me like some phantom wraith, should I fail to sign it, grabbed a shower, visited some, and pondered (in response to B's question, "how long do we have you") the idea of laying up I'd covered a bit more than 1,200 miles in four days, most of it on 2-lane roads with opposing traffic, looked at the weather, thought about meeting Lois for breakfast and figured taking a down day was a good idea (and my, did that prove prescient).So wonderful dinner at Penninsula was had. All manner of pleasantly spiced and flavored things (lamb, shrimp, squid, tofu, noodles, etc.) were enjoyed by the 10-11 of us who were there. I was able to put faces to names (and am a loss to name everyone who was there). Afterwards went for ice cream. I opted for a single scoop of banana-coffee. The flavor was "wrong" but very good. The banana was subtle, and the coffee wasn't (though it was rich, and complex. It wasn't retiring, but it was nuanced).
B and K headed to the State Fair, I to a local eatery, where I had a nice time meeting Lois (Marna thought we would get on, and we seem to have). In the interest of not wanting to pester her with silly (or, if not silly, too often asked) questions about her books, we talked about military stuff (she quizzed me some, I told stories) and Russian, and some things related to her books, and the like. I now have an autographed copy of Сетаганда.
Went back to the Laughing Water, puttered about some, and in the early evening we planned a dinner party (which had been decided the night before). A leg, and some steaks, of lamb had been set to thaw. B and headed out to get some stuff. I peeled, and chopped some celeriac, and (come the time) stirred a grain pilaf, and broiled the steaks. A couple of bottles were opened to breathe, and the five of us (lj user =lsanderson), and (the name escapes me, I think it was Lydia) enjoyed the lamb; two ways, carrots, onions and celeriac (cooked beneath the leg), eggplant cooked in vinaigrette and ground chili) and bread, with a Rioja, and a Crozes Hermitage. The first was excellent, the second, superb. It was rich, earthy, fruity. It had that dusty quality which only comes with "old" wine (it was a '92, as old as my BMW). There aren't many vinters in the US even trying to make wines large enough to lay up long enough to get there.
A beet and chevre salad, on butter lettuce followed, and strawberries and ice cream for dessert.
In the morning I got up, wrote in the Guest Book (a lovely book, and full of splendid comments; not signing it would have been unkind in the extreme), had some coffee, did some visiting and took my pleasantly regretful leave.
Into I-35W (South) and into easy running. Two lane, no need to engage in risky passing, speed limits above 55 (and honored more in the breach). The road skirted Des Moines, so I didn't really have the chance to see any of the people I might have called on. Through Omaha and into Lincoln. I'd toyed with the idea of pressing on a bit further, but when I got to Omaha, the horizon was dark. As I saw Lincoln coming into view, so too the ribbons of white flickered to the ground. While I was parking the bike, the rain began to fall.
Got my room (the clerk was as close to an audio-animitron as one is ever likely to meed; nothing one said could derail him from he various set pieces. I got to hear them all twice, because I was behind someone else). I walked to the restaurant across the way, had a bite and headed back. I'd gotten damp going over... I was drenched getting back.
A warming shower, and thence to bed.
The day was high clouds, and a bit of breeze. Got breakfast, and headed out.
Oh My God. The wind was a terror. It shook me like a terrier works a rat. It was a trade-off. The faster I went, the greater the combined speeds, but the less the time I was abused. I think the combined speeds, at times, got to 120-130 miles an hour. Three times I was pushed more than half a lane to the left. I don't know how much time I spent with the bike heeled into the wind. I spent time with my gut clenched and my breath bated, as though lifting a great weight.
I came to loathe vehicles. The wind, by itself, was horrid. Add a vehicle and it became an unholy terror. Trucks were the worst, single offender, but car in combination could be worse. I think (from empirical evidence, turbulence of the vehicle disturbed the wind in strange ways; so that instead of being a mere force (pretty much from one direction) it became an unpredictable (and improbable, a couple of times it seems there was a sudden low pressure area, into which I was pulled. I suspect it was just the leaning into the wind causing me to drift when the wind tailed off, but it was disconcerting).
I had lunch in Kearny, Neb. For about an hour that the wind wasn't too bad. Then it kicked up again. I did 500 miles today. I'm beat. I spent most of the 6 hours I was moving with a death grip on the handlebars, my helmet being tossed about like a bobblehead, my jacket crawling up my right armpit and wind being shoved up my nose when I checked behind me (this is less fun than it sounds [and I can hear you saying it doesn't sound fun... you are right, and as unfun as you think it sounds: it's less fun than that).
I am hoping my run to Salt Lake tomorrow (330 miles) will not be as wind afflicted. If it is, I'm done when I get to Salt Lake. If not, then I will push on to Wendover.
