One thing that heat and humidity portend is serious rain, and I was mentally gearing up for that. There had been heavy rain all night but by starting time, it had mostly petered out and the worst thing was that the road was wet. As the road and vegetation by the road dries out, all that moisture goes into the air making it still more muggy. I knew there was going to be some more rain. It's not done until after the cold front passes over.
Around noon as I was passing through the town of Spring Green, there came an eerie darkness, and then the clouds opened up and DUMPED about 2 inches of rain in half an hour. I cowered under a canopy waiting for the worst to be over, and then decided I had to get going. It's a tricky decision to choose one's attire in a warm, rainy environment, and I was having particular problems because, heretofore I had worn the same outfit every day. Now I had to decide if I should wear the raincoat that I have carried all this way, or a turtleneck, or both. In the end I tried all combinations of the above, and spent much of my time changing from one to the other. I have decided that as long as it stays warm and muggy, I can just get wet without getting chilled.
The rain has put something of a damper on the day's ride, but still the countryside is charming, even in the mist. One is not inclined to stop too often, and I had stowed all my camera things inside my dry bag for safe keeping. So with no distractions to deter my progress, I slowly pushed on to New Glarus. I arrived in due course, somewhat gritty, but mostly dried out after the rain showers had subsided.
I stopped at the town library to see if they had a connection to the World Wide Web, which they did not, but I did meet a townsman who sometimes writes for the local newspaper. We proposed to meet in a tavern for an interview. New Glarus is a tourist town, with a Swiss motif, perhaps a little more authentic than Leavenworth, Washington, but it cannot escape the look of a costume because the Alps are not present. I am very glad it was Monday when I arrived, because the weekends must find thistown crowded with tourists.
After dinner (of Wiener Schnitzel) I spent a long time in the bar with Kim, the local reporter, describing my trip and a whole host of other topics. We did not have to resort to politics, but our conversation did uncover some mutual acquaintances.
Today was subdued by the rain, as I expected, but I am glad it finally happened. Now I don't have to worry about it. And I am also thankful that I don't have to hole up until the mud on the roads dried up. I am still sad for Mr. Turner and Mr. Babcock for they missed some superlative cycling in Wisconsin. But it is certainly possible that it was far from superlative back then. Their approach to Chicago was through the large towns of northern Illinois:
We ran into the suburbs of Galena, if a town of that size may be said to have suburbs, over a few miles of good road and then down into the city over one of the narrowest, old-fashioned streets imaginable. It wound around down the hill with barely room for teams to pass. We rode by the little cottage where Gen. Grant used to live in the days when he was unknown outside of Galena, stopped a moment at the building, in the basement of which he had a tannery, and in leaving the town we passed the fine brick residence which the citizens of Galena gave him on his return from the war. Galena is not what it was in the old days when its lead was being taken from the surrounding hills. The mines have long since been next to exhausted and the town is reposing, while its name does not appear upon the maps in so large letters as formerly.
82 miles today, like inside a wet paperbag, but not entirely unpleasant. The going was slow, but I'm liking the pace. Don't want this to end too soon.
Dennis