day 37 -- new ulm to clinton, IA

two days to go and still nowhere near the mississippi, so New Ulm (and its monument to Arminius, apparently -- this town is seriously German) was in the rearview early as I headed southeast toward Dubuque in an effort to give chicago a wide berth on labor day. the route I took kept to the eastern edge of the prairie...tributary valleys for the big muddy dropped off to the left until I crossed over in Decorah, IA, home of Luther College and the upper iowa river. the college is tucked away down the valley, but it's left its mark on a vibrant main street...couldn't find a seat in the crunchy grocery store slash deli and ended up in a (you betcha) German-themed golden arches, listening to college boys trying to impress women by talking casually about internet porn. from there I outraced a stormfront across a patchwork of farmed highlands and creek hollows, each one deeper than the last as I approached the river. climbed over a last set of bluffs and dropped down to the mississippi at Guttenberg, and I was back in the dead zone of river towns. chatted with a couple that had leapfrogged me a couple of times along the way -- they'd roar by, get lost as US52 wound through a town, then catch up to me again. when I said I was headed for 'ohio, eventually,' they heard 'waterloo [, iowa].' and then through the rest of europe-in-iowa back above the river: luxemburg, then durango. and finally into Dubuque. a touch bigger than I thought, a town of brick warehouses and the river and crumbling industry. that rivertown time warp again...even the cars sun was setting, but I wanted to roll on closer to the river crossing on the lincoln highway. so now past the 'mines of spain' state park (once spanish property, mines visible on google earth), a fantastic sunset over the bluffs, then back down to the buggy river. hilly country, not bottomland at all here, more low hills and roads winding back into woods, turnoffs for old ferries. by late dusk had pulled into the surprisingly lively town of bellevue with several bars, lots of bikers, but no motels except for a bed and breakfast in a barn on the outskirts, so I pressed on to Clinton, IA.

I found a budget inn right downtown and grabbed a room, parked next to a pair of his/hers old model yamaha cruisers. lazed around savoring my last motel parallel universe night...crappy TV, anonymity on an empty floor. by the time I roused myself to forage for food, it was too late to find anything on a sunday night without heading out to the outskirts. china garden was around the corner, but a hand-markered sign announced that the proprietors were off on vacation for a couple of weeks. the bar across the street featured a disconcerting interaction between a woman in a wheelchair and another patron, so I steered clear and wandered around a starkly empty town. dimly lit storefronts, a handful of abandoned cars, a trio of youngsters hurrying away from a downtown apartment building. they were bundled against a surprising wind, which was what drew me outside more than the prospect of food. I was vaguely hoping for an iowa tornado -- no luck there, but the wind certainly was fierce. leaves raining sideways, dust clogging my eyes. all of this added to a vague surreality. could be that this was the last night out on a long trip, but something about the silent downtown and the apocalyptic wind without a storm gave me the sense that I was in a haunted landscape. alas, no ghosts, not even in the motel.