LE DEUXIEME JOUR.

Last night I had much trouble sleeping. I believe that was the first time that I have ever camped solo. It feels drastically different being alone. You have no backup in case a situation occurs. My mind was definitely more alert, relaxing into a restful slumber is more complicated in this state of mind. On top of that, my body was broken. All these years of weight lifting, high-intensity interval training, distance running, and everything else in-between does not compare. It felt like every muscle was maxed out, every fiber was fuck, and every shred of DNA was destroyed. Luckily, there was a nearby waterfall that was quite soothing. The running river really relieved my suffering. Pair that with an orchestra of insects serenading me, and I successfully surrendered to my slumber. 

I managed to get enough sleep before those damn birds and bugs began their bellowing again. Nature is the best alarm clock because you can't fucking snooze it. Quickly and quietly, I packed up my lodging without leaving a trace of my habitation, on to the next destination. I hopped onto highway 44 and began the start of the day's journey. Guthrie Center was my first destination, and I treated myself to a hot coffee and chocolate donut. It was twenty-one miles to the next town of Hamlin. Upon arriving, I spotted a shaded shelter summoning me to settle for a moment's rest. A group of lovely ladies already occupied this sanctuary, and I kindly requested if I could "share the shade." They accepted and began to question my bulky bagged up bike. They themselves were bikers, not just any bikers, the Midwest Pedalers.

The ladies and I chatted while they waited for more members of their bike club to reassemble from the day's ride. Darrel's Place, a famous Iowan eatery, sat but a parking lot away from our covered canopy. Although it won the best pork chop in Iowa some 20 years ago, I opted for the ham and bean soup. I was seriously satisfied with that succulent soup. I'll be back for that porkchop, mark my words. After our lunch, the pedalers advised taking an alternative route. I humbly accepted and reviewed the new route plan. We said our goodbyes, but I will surely be seeing them again. 

I hopped on the T-bone trail, which runs south along highway 71. It was short-lived, but it is always lovely to get away from the cars. I take a right at Exira (another small Iowa town) and continued west on F58. Nineteen miles of the most grueling hills that I have ever experienced later, I found the turn-off point. After a large and well-deserved downhill, I arrive at Praire Rose State Park. Incroyable! I have never seen such beauty in my life. When I arrive, the first thing I do is set up camp, literally. Pitch the tent, blow up the mattress pad, unravel the sleeping bag, collect firewood, and organize the site to my liking are just to name a few tasks. These may sound like novice tasks, but it is more cumbersome than you may realize. It's unbelievable that I am making this reference, but cutting up firewood is exactly like real-life Minecraft. The constant ticking away till it breaks. Tomorrow I am coming for you Omaha. Check the route here.