Leaving Hiawatha Valley into the Land o'Lakes, the countryside has changed in nature to a flat, gradual incline up towards to Great Plains. One thing I noticed: the green cornfields of the Midwest have turned yellow and parched, and yet there are large areas of lush swampland full of reeds. A lot more corn, some sunflowers, and farms divided by scattered but frequent areas of woodland, composed of a pretty mixture of deciduous and pine trees.
At a bar called the Rum Shack at a crossroads 13 miles NW of Milaca, a farmer told me it hasn't rained properly for 4 months, and even if it rains now it'll be too late to save the corn. After the soaking I'd got a couple of days ago I was surprised, but it seems the weather system has sent the rainclouds over these parts without stopping to rain. In another bar a bit further up the road (Milo's Place in Morrill, 41 miles NW of Milaca), the waitress told me that the pretty silver-and-green leaved trees I'd been passing are Popple. Popple is the local name for Quaking Aspen or Trembling Aspen, according to the ever-handy internet. I arrived in Little Falls early in the afternoon, due to a nice SE wind, and had time to explore the town. The falls are long gone, replaced by a picturesque little dam in the heart of the town, creating a tree-shaded park. I lounged there for a while, watching the ducks.
I mentioned back on the 3rd my back-of-the-knee problem. I'm glad to say it's settled down. My bum still hurts periodically: that saddle never seems to become part of the man/bike duality, like the rest of the bike has. Yes, I love my bike. No backache at all after all these miles - somewhat of a first for me. The bike just likes to ride, and I'm neither bored nor frustrated with it. Looks great too: the perfect travel companion.
