Moose Lake
By 9pm I was closing in on Cedar Rapids. A half a mile before the first Cedar Rapids exit was one of those official brown "Point Of Interest" signs. The point of interest was the National Czech and Slovak Museum. I could hardly contain my excitement as I exited the freeway. At first I thought this might be some Polish joke or trick as many twists and turns I had to make to follow the brown signs to my destination. I arrived in a residentioal area of the city known as "Czech Village. Banners from the street lights declared the name of thge area and also the greeting "Vitame Vas," "We Welcome You" in Czech. The whole place reminded me of the area my grandmother lived and had alittle shop.
I arrived at the museum entrance around 9am to find it did not open until 9:30. No bother, I had fun taking some picture and strolling down a little two block section of towns witll small stores and restaraunts. I stopped at the Czech Village Bake Shop and asked the young african american girl behind the counter if they had any traditional Czech pastries. When she pointed to the lineup of what looked to me like regular pastries you would find anywhere, I questioned her response. She went back and asked the baker in the back and came back and said "Kolace." I now realized reading the sign on the counter in front of me that I was looking at Kolace (pronounced coal-law-chay) the traditional Czech pastry which looks juswt like any othe pastry with bread and icing with fruit filling in the middle. I paid 75 cents for the poppyseed version and headed on my way.
I entered the museum to be greeted by an elderly lady behind a desk in conversation with a younger lady. Maybe my appearance after three days in humid weather was not the greatest. The younger lady assked if she could help me and when I responded that I wanted to look around the museum she asked me if I knew that there was a charge for that. I gladly paid the elderly lady my $5 while explaining that my grandparents on my mother side were from Bohemia. As I was explaining I noticed her name tag indicated her last name was Dvorak and told her that my grandparents had the same name. She asked if they were from this area and when I said no they were from Illinois, she told me a story about how many people in her school were named Dvorak. Apparently it is a very common name in Cedar Rapids. I believe a large number of Czechs and Slavs settled in the area and became farmers.
The museum was nice and I wish I was a better student and could remember more about the Czech and Slav history. I think their national anthem sums their and my history up pretty well: "Kde Domov Muj","Where is my home?" Some interesting facts are they usually take both sides in any given war and they were among the better educated immigrants to come over in the early 20th century to find " freedom, prosperity, and mutual understanding." They have Catholic and Lutheran religious backgrounds. It was another journey back in time for me. I got some good pictures of their native dress the "Kroje" (pronounced Kroy-yuh) which was very colorful with a lot of beading and intricate stitching.
I headed north agin in the hot muggy Iowa sun. I passed up both the Spam museum and the grout museum along tghe wway. I guess there just is not enough time to see everything. I stopped by Waterloo to get some food supplies and wash the car and bike. I pulled into a little self service car wash with 3 stalls and an attendant on duty. Why, I don't know. For some reason they had a srayer, but no brush in each stall. I left headed toward the highway on the other side of town only to be greeted by a detour that took me 5 miles back the way I came and 30 mile to the east.
Somehow I made in to Minnesota. It was still hot and muggy but there were dark clouds on the horizon to the north. I drove through Minneapolis on the Interstate in stop and go traffic. As I came out on the other side, my odometer caught my eye. It was 142,990, exactly 3000 miles since I changed my oil in Cottage Grove one week earlier. I was stunned at the number of miles and the number of days. I'll have to decide if I want to change my oil every week if I keep on this way.
My destination, I decided, was one of three or four state parks along the interstate north of Minneapolis. I got tired of a local male-bashing talk show I was listenting two and switched the channel on the radio. Immediately the EBS came on with thunderstorm warnings in some county. Of course I had no idea what county I was in, bujt as I passed a sign that said the city of Hinckley was 8 miles away, the radio announced that people in Hinckley were reporting nickel sized hail and everyone should stay in doors and away from windows and tall towers. By this time I was in the middle of a dark downpour where I could barely see the road and my bike was shaking the back of the car with each gust of wind. I thought about pulling off to the side of the road, but didn't know what good that would do. I slowed to about 50 mph and limped into the Hinckley exit. I sat in the parking lot of a gas station while everyone else scurried around conducting their normal harried business.
After a few minutes the wind and rain calmed down and I was on my way again to the sound of more severe thunderstorm warnings on the radio, some with golfball sized hail. I pulled in to Moose Lake State Park around 7pm. It was overcast, but dry, hot and muggy. There were only a few campers in this scenic campground on a lake. There was lots of two-foot high grass everywhere except where it had been mowed. The campsites were well protected by various deciduos trees.
I set up camp then sampled some of the trails around the lake and near the highnway with my bike. The mosquitos were not the worst I have seen. I did hhave to where long sleeves and pants and socks and shoes for protection though. I got a kick out of the fireflies in the dark woods again. I never figured out a way to take a picture of them though.
It was quiet and peaceful. I was ready to take a break from all the driving. After another muggy night with all the tent windows open, I registered with the ranger to stay another night to think about wher I would go next. I originally though Minnesota would be a good place for me to turn around and head back to the west coast. I am not so sure. I have been thinking I might want to try to make it to Maine. Another place I have never been. I would dread going through the metropolitan areas of Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan to get there (three place I have been). I also dread trying to learn something new by going through Canada. I'm sure I'll get another sign pointingme in the right directions soon.