A quiet day.

The next day was full of welcome uneventfulness. The riding was pleasant, the winds nonexistent, and the only thing I had to contend with were flying beetles on the highway. Unlike the countless bugs that have met their demise on my windshield with a splat, these beetles bounced off with a sharp crack. Their numbers were so high that,  for miles, it sounded like the beginnings of corn popping on a stove top. Even with the occasional one that would find it's way into my helmet and strike my face at 75 mph, it paled in comparison to the events of the day before, and I thought nothing of it.

As I was gassing up near the Illinois/Iowa border, I was warned by a friendly couple in a Jeep that I may not be able to take route 29 off of 80 on the far western side of Iowa due to flooding on the Missouri River. I had been aware of the flooding from numerous stories on radio news (I don’t watch television at home, especially the news), so I have never really seen any images of the destruction the high waters have caused. As I pulled on to 29 north (it turns out that the road was only closed in the southbound direction), I began to get glimpses of the swollen river, and I pulled off on a scenic lookout point to get a better view and take some pictures.

I had to climb four stories of steps to get to the top of this overlook, so I'm chalking up the weird face I'm making to exhaustion... or a sore butt... That's the Missouri River in the background, by the way.

That night I was lucky enough to find a motel that had an indoor pool and hot tub, and after an hour or so of soaking, I went to bed feeling more rested and relaxed than I ever had since the trip started. The next day I would be making my way into South Dakota, and the Badlands were beckoning…