Day 5. I had gone to bed reasonably early and woke up early having slept fairly well. Being dry is a good thing. Most of my gear was dry by the morning, with the exception of the sleeping bag. I proceeded to pack everything on the bike. Menacing clouds were still present on the horizon. 20% chance of rain my ass. I headed over to a diner next to the Motel 6 for some breakfast. The waitress was very nice and gave me a booth where I could see the bike. She noticed how everyone who passed it seemed to stop and look at it. "Oh, now I see why you want to keep an eye on it". I told her the story of Duncan's bike. All the pretty women stop to gawk at Duncan's bike. My bike only gets the attention of old men. :)

When I went to start my bike after leaving the diner, nothing happened. It wouldn't turn over. On the second attempt the bike fired right up. I speculate that the starter motor or solenoid might be developing a problem due maybe in part to all this rain. Foreshadowing again?

I was intent on snapping a few required tourist photos in front of the Aerostich warehouse.

The actual entrance to the place is quite non-descript.

Having done my touristly duty I had did what any self respecting hard core long distance bmw rider would do .. I headed to Starbucks and wasted most of the morning idly staring into space.

I sat there a good while thinking about the stories the hardcore guy, Tom, had told me. 1000 mile easy days. Trips up the Dalton. I remembered how focused Dave from Chicago seemed to be on mileage. I used to be like that. I used to value numbers. I saw meaning in them. But right now, I really just want to sit and contemplate the sun poking through the clouds as if to tease me. "Sucker hole", I thought.

I sat at Starbucks musing about how hardcore I was, got myself a second cup when a bunch of silly white people walked in and sang/played an African funeral song. Apparently they had just finished some class on this.

It wasn't bad, but lacked any of the heart moving emotion that comes through when Africans, ones who have known true suffering and loss, sing. "Silly middle class fortunate white people, you just don't get it. This is not something that can be learned.", thinks the BMW rider to himself as he sips his $2 cup of coffee while checking text messages on his $300 droid. Close minded, short sighted and hypocritical of me? Maybe.

I decided that I would check out the waterfront. I saw on the GPS that there was a place called Canal Park. I had imagined a green grass covered "park" but it was more like Baltimore Inner Harbor. As the name implies, there's a canal leading off Lake Superior that flows under a really cool bridge.

I hung out for a few moments and then followed the GPS instructions to get out of dodge.

I have to admit Duluth, MN intrigues me. It seems like a very interesting town and is a place I would like to visit again. The waitress last night was telling me that it was the largest fresh water port town in the US and possibly the world. I could believe it. There's so much interesting architecture. The people are also very different from what I'm used to in DC. I don't know how to capture it in words. Somehow more open. More curious. Friendlier. A bit more rugged as if the too used to cold weather.

On the way out there were so many photos that I wanted to take but the highway prevented it. There was this one street that headed up a hill at an incredible angle. From the angle I viewed it it looked like something out of San Francisco.

On the way out of town I ran into construction and it began to rain. Strangely, I had no emotional reaction to this at all. I saw the drops on my faceshield and thought to myself "hmmm. I have seen this before. It is called rain". I pulled over to put the tank bag rain cover on and proceeded through the cold downpour completely undisturbed. The Aerostich Transit suit is completely water proof. I can't believe it.

I went through intervals of heavy rain for some miles. Passing tractor trailers was as challenging as it had been before. The road surface soaks up the water and then as the tractor trailers pass over it, the water gets pulled up into a fog like mist blocking any view of what's coming ahead. You pass them with blind faith. On a motorcycle, you also experience how aerodynamically challenged these beasts are. The air is so confused and disturbed around them that it shakes you to you core ... and then you pass them and you're back in smooth air being able to see in front of you.

Eventually the rain stopped. The highways in Minnesota are beautiful. It feels so remote.

Miles and miles and miles of green woods lined the highway. No billboards. No stops. Nothing. Just forest. As I rode down this stretch I found myself considering what effect the road on a motorcycle has on me. There's something about being a motorcycle that lets me think more clearly, more sharply, than I can ever muster when I'm in my daily grind.

It's not just about being away.

When you're on a motorcycle, racing over land through the wind, there's the effect it has on you. As so many people have said, you're out in it. You feel every bump, every breeze, every change in temperature. You're not isolated from your environment at all. But there's more to it than that.

There's an aspect of being trapped, which is, counterintuitively, very liberating. You're alone. Your route is set, and you know what you have to do. You've done it for so long that you know to be hyper-vigilant. For the next so many hours you know exactly where you'll be, on this motorcycle. The scenery will change. You'll adjust for traffic and hazards. You'll constantly scan the sides of the road for the deer that will eventually ruin your day. But all these things that you do happen autonomously. Because you're moving and there's so much going on, you never get bored. You're trapped by the circumstances of your decisions to be in this place, but as a consequence your mind if free to wander where it may. Freedom through imprisonment.

I found myself wondering about how time seems to speed up once you're "in the zone". There's something about being on a motorcycle hurtling down a stretch of superslab that puts me into a meditative state. This is what I've come out here to experience. The places I go, the history behind them, the state I happen to be in, are largely irrelevant to me. This is journey of the mind and soul, and strangely the motorcycle gets me there. I have heard it said that watching fish swim will lower blood pressure and heart rate. There's some speculation that this is because our primeval ancestors sat at the waters edge with a sharpened stick for hours on end waiting to spear a fish. It's an adaptation. I wonder if being on a motorcycle somehow invokes a similar vestige of our primeval past, maybe of riding on horse back for hours and hours on end. Time accelerates. Hours seem like minutes. You're acutely aware of the present but strangely free to let your mind wander.

I rode through seemingly endless forest and, because I had had so much coffee, I stopped at a rest stop.

This rest stop looked like something out of Germany. It was immaculate, very tasteful and clearly put there by people who cared. Off in a forested section they even put a picnic table, which I thought rocked.

If I were put in charge of designing a rest stop it would be this one. So I'm standing there admiring the stop when an elderly couple walks up noticing that I was taking pictures and offered to take a photo of me.

I'm looking all bad-ass in my Transit Suit. They were very nice. It's strange and I don't understand it. In the first 5 days of this trip I've had more people approach me than in both previous cross country trips combined. Actually, in both of those trips no one approached me at all. I wonder if attitudes towards motorcyclists have changed. I've also noticed that many more people are aware that BMW makes motorcycles. Maybe it's just that I'm older now and perceived as less of a threat, or maybe being separated from my life long problems has made me more open. I don't know, but I think I like it.

I contined southward for some hours when the rolling hills of forest opened up into expanses of plains.

Just beautiful. I eventually came up on the Iowa border.

The view back across the highway I had traveled captures what it all looked like.

I was making good time. It was warm. Visibility was excellent. Traffic was light. At one point I started tailing this Audi A8 who was going at a good clip. The driver was pleasantly disciplined. Passing happened when I thought it should. Caution was exercised when needed. We were going at a good 90mph indicated. When I passed her I noticed she was a rather attractive brunette. There's something about a woman that can drive ...

Shortly thereafter I started tailing a Ford F250 doing 100mph! Now there's a case of excess hydrocarbons being combusted to propel excess mass forward against too much wind resistance. He kicked up alot of turbulence.

I have to admit people out here can drive.

I continued on southward stopping only to snap the occasional photo. I happened across a field of wind turbines.

This scene repeated itself a number of times. On a few occasions I stopped to shoot photos.

At the end of the day I hopped off the interstate and made my way down one of the state roads heading towards Dancing Rabbit. I thought this shot came out pretty well.

I wanted to try to capture the flowers along the road.

I checked into a hotel. The woman behind the counter asked me a bit about my trip. "You're not exactly normal, are you?" she asked, "I mean that in a good way" she said. "I want to keep track of your trip". I've been getting a bit of that on this trip. It's always so flattering.

I've gotten a few comments encouraging me to continue to write these entries. I'm trying. Thank you for all the feedback and words of encouragement. I'll try to keep it up. As always, if you're not a YML.COM member, you can post comments on the links over at facebook. If you want to be a YML.COM member, just contact me.

Tomorrow I head to Dancing Rabbit to see Ted and Sarah. Then it's off to Kansas city to see Angela and possibly Mike who I met at Deal's Gap. From there it's on to go camping in the Rockies with Bruce and Ha.