The obvious contrast.

Over this past week, we've been preparing for, and saying goodbye to the Midwest of America. Riding west out of Des Moines, Iowa, we saw the beautiful rolling hills which give credence to the infamous RAGBRAI. We then took a quick trip across the Missouri River into Nebraska, and headed north along the river to reach South Dakota. It is my understanding that we officially entered the great plains after crossing the Fort Randall Dam; our third and final Missouri River crossing. As mentioned to us, and we confirm, South Dakota is geographically partitioned into two sides; east and west of the Missouri. The eastern portion having more precipitation and corn than the arid and grassy west. For us, reaching the western side has meant less traffic, with more seclusion and space between areas of civilization, but mostly a welcome change to the two or three previous weeks of overabundant corn and soy crops.

If one simplifies the concept of endless rolling hills and plains, the longterm monotony may seem much too uneventful to enjoy from the seat of a bicycle. I conclude this generalized simplification to be wrong. For westward travel (i.e. Leaving the populated eastern portion of the continent) it represents the wild western frontier, and resembles the experience of the Oregon Trail travelers. Dan suggests our instincts may find pleasure in scenery which contains livability, including bountiful plants and animals. Perhaps for us modern day explorers, the appearance of less cultivated soil provides the experience of 'roughing it.' I would also not shy away from associating our pleasure with a closer proximity to home.

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If our route and tempo eastward was indirect, unpredictable, and off budget, our route west could thus far be considered much more calculated. Simply put, we resembled Kerouac and friends heading east--give and take--and westbound are the new age Lewis and Clark; on a mission to find the passage to Oregon before the British do. Again, simply put, 5,500 miles out in five months will earn many valuable perspectives into the culture and people of this country; 3,200+ miles back in two months will contradict one's preconception that this country is immense in size, which it is.

As the hours of daylight in the northern hemisphere slowly dwindle, so do our feasible riding hours. Our distance goals, however, have been loftier in the past weeks. This means we had to wake at dawn, complete our morning routines, and begin riding each day before noon--usually before nine. Even on such a schedule, we've been finding it harder to reach our daily destinations before sunset. Luckily, we're far enough west at this juncture, to confidently establish a finish date on a less aggressive schedule, with hopefully more free time to enjoy the national forests and parks in front of us.

Athough we've been covering much more ground since NYC, I'm finding no shortage of anecdotes to consider sharing. Like the night we crossed a closed bridge (don't worry Moms), to randomly happen upon a campground, to wake up with frost on our tents next to a steaming and picture perfect Missouri River. Or that other night in the wildlife refuge when some locals parked and proceeded to find themselves in the grips of a passionate frenzy, unaware of the proximity of our involuntary, sleep distracted ears. Or the all-you-can-eat breakfast where we earned two compliments while likely consuming the day's profit. This and more within the course of seven days, you get the point.

At about 1,200 miles from home, we will likely have three more rest days. Therefore I'm likely to post three more times before reaching home, then probably one final salutation at the end. I've been happy to hear praise from a number of you, and I'm more gratified in knowing this effort isn't unnoticed. Thanks again for your support and for reading.

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Last, but certainly not least, I want to give a big thanks to the Stone family in Des Moines for stepping up and giving Dan refuge while I was off observing the matrimonial ceremony of two fine folks.