Not the Great River Road any more - Guttenberg to Sherrill

The guidebook shows the Great River Road continuing south from Guttenberg to Dubuque. We didn't follow that route. Instead, we got lost. We lost track of the river altogether and followed a series of thoroughly alternate routes as far as Balltown, where we gave up altogether and headed west for Des Moines.

The "lost" path in this part of the state was actually quite interesting and beautiful in its own way. Everything that I had heard about Iowa suggested that it would be flatter than a prepubescent bosom and 90% covered in cornfields. This part of Iowa along the Mississippi was none of those things. The road meandered through gently rolling hills that were green, bordering on Irish.

Cows grazed placidly in the fields and weathered barns were dotted prettily here and there.

We also had an opportunity to witness some of the extremes of Iowan lawn decoration. I get that a large number of US citizens like to put statues and other miscellaneous stuff out on their lawns. There are certainly an inordinately large number of them who insist on statues of frolicking deer that invariably cause me to leap on the brakes and screech to a near standstill before I realise that the statue isn't moving either. Although I do get the basic idea, I think this family may have taken it all a bit too far.

The funniest part of this story is the way I nonchalantly pulled over to the curb, stopped the car, grabbed the camera bag and strolled, whistling, across the street, as if I had absolutely no interest in this shrine to lawn art. Lurking behind a bush on the other side of the street I launched a guerrilla clicking campaign, then stashed the camera and strolled back to the car. I figured any house with this many fake animals in the yard is a house where a gun lives. I certainly didn't want to attract any attention.

Great River Road - Marquette to Guttenberg

Marquette, Iowa is a picturesque little town, except for one unfortunate feature that afflicts many of the little towns along the Mississippi. There are railroad tracks running right alongside the river, which is right through the middle of town. So, at regular intervals the entire community rattles to the rhythm of a giant freight train. Marquette was once a major rail hub and continues to support considerable rail traffic, so I suppose the diesel engines and endless freight rail cars sound good to its citizens. They sounded bloody awful to me.

The road weaves on along the river for a while, then climbs steeply up into hills covered with oaks, maples and birches. Suddenly, up on top of the hill, there are are rolling hills covered in cornfields. We are now officially in Iowa, the tall corn state.

We visited the Pikes Peak State Park to check out the views of the river valley. Dad was quite disappointed that this Pikes Peak wasn't anything like the other Pikes Peak in Colorado where they race fast cars around cliffs. I'm sure this criticism had much more to do with the terrain than my delicate piloting of Puff Lite. This bluff, like the serious mountain in Colorado, is named after Zebulon Pike who was almost as interesting as his name suggests. He led an expedition through here in 1805 and had a lumpy mountainy thing named after him in return. I led an expedition through here in 2007, but my landmark has not been allocated yet.

The views are spectacular, even if Dad did think the drive was slow and short on cliff-edge excitement. In the shot below you can see the Wisconsin River flowing into the Mississippi. The river here is wide and dotted with heavily treed islands.

It's also covered in thick green slime. I don't remember that from Mark Twain. Where was the part when Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn climbed out of the water and spent two hours wiping the algae off their skin?

Next stop was Guttenberg, yet another Mississippi River town. My guidebook tells me that Guttenberg was settled in 1845 and named after the inventor of the movable press. The extra "t" was apparently a mistake, perhaps one of the earliest typographical errors. The mostly German immigrant population prior to the civil war left their mark in the form of many stone buildings constructed from bluff limestone and good, local clay and lime.

Guttenberg is a nice town. The mile long River Front Park has picnic tables and charming views of the river. I felt strangely at home, a feeling that intensified when I saw this sign.

Surely Ingleside must be fairly close to Ingleburn, where I live in Sydney. No wonder I felt so comfortable. Of course, some of it might be due to the rather relaxed vibe of Guttenberg.

Check out the signs in this shop window. We've kind of gone out of business, and we're kind of still in business, but you know ... whatever ... relax.

This one in a neighbouring window also caught my eye. There's a man who knows what he wants. I'd want to see the boat and motor too.

This one on an open door just cracked us up. Fortunately, we managed to find a cafe that actually was open for lunch. We sat next to the huge glass windows and ate fish while the river ambled by. It was a scorching hot day so we decided to seek out ice-cream. Having observed a tendency for the business operators of Guttenberg to be somewhat unpredictable in their habits I asked the woman who had served our lunch if there was somewhere nearby that we could get ice-cream.

Her eyes lit up and a strangely euphoric look came over her face. "Oh, yes." Clearly this is a woman who appreciates good ice-cream. She gave us directions to a place several blocks away. "All the flavours are good," she said "But Almond Joy is my favourite."

When we found the place in question, "The Pup Hut," we were initially rather discouraged. Surely this small house converted into a burger joint and ice-cream dispensary couldn't be the source of the almost mystical "Almond Joy." Could this be another one of those linguistic culture clash moments where "good" is understood to mean "Lots and cheap."

I was particularly put off by the drive through window at the side of the house. However, just to prove you can't judge an Iowan book by its cover, the menu turned out to be extensive and fabulous. I had another choc mint hit, Dad had something called "Zanzibar dark chocolate" that was at least 90% cocoa, and Patricia ordered the marvellous "Almond Joy." They were all delicious and I highly recommend a visit to the Pup Hut if ever you're in Guttenberg. Tell your friends.

It cannot be denied that Guttenberg has style. Even people riding cruisers, whom I normally view with deep suspicion, seem to have their own personal flair around here. I particularly like the bike mounted esky (ice chest). That could really catch on with Aussie motorcyclists.

Finally, on our way out of town we stopped off at this scenic overlook for another grand view of the deep river valley.

Effigy Mounds National Monument, Iowa

Back on the western side of Old Man River, now in Iowa, we visited the Effigy Mounds National Monument, just north of Marquette.

The term "effigy mounds" refers to animals and other shapes formed between 750 and 1,400 years ago by American Indians who piled earth into large, deliberately shaped mounds. In the upper Midwest of the USA there was a culture that regularly built mounds in the shapes of birds, turtles, lizards, bison and, most commonly, bears.

The effigy mounds at this site in Iowa are some of the last remaining examples of more than 10,000 mounds that were documented in the 19th and early 20th century. The land has been logged and converted into farmland, destroying all trace of the mounds that were so painstakingly manually constructed. A typical effigy is two to four feet high, 40 feet wide, and 80 feet long. Imagine carrying that much dirt by hand.

Effigy mounds, those shaped like animals, are perhaps the most interesting, but they were not the first mounds constructed. Dome-shaped, conical burial mounds started to be built by the Woodland Indians about 3,000 years ago. About 1,400 years later the Woodland Indians began to build effigy mounds. Although the reasons for the mounds is not clear, the shapes chosen and evidence of ceremonial fire at the "head," "heart," or "flank" of the mounds, suggest a spiritual motivation. Around 750 years ago the Indians stopped building effigy mounds as mysteriously as they began. The memory of their purpose and the reasons they were abandoned have been lost.



The Rangers at this National Monument offer a guided, hour and half long, walking tour around a number of the mounds. We opted out of the tour after the 20 minute introduction. It wasn't that the subject matter was uninteresting. It's just that the young Ranger leading our group had a peculiar disability. He was, possibly congenitally, incapable of speaking in public.

Although able to make occasional, fleeting eye contact, he was chronically dependent on "comfort" words and phrases that he used to fill pauses, regardless of whether or not the words made sense. The most common comfort phrase was "too, as well." So he might say "Most of the remains were buried right in the centre of the mounds too, as well." He might follow this by explaining that human remains buried in the mounds were a very small percentage of the whole human too, as well whose corpse would have been left out to be picked over by animals too, as well, or might have had the flesh stripped manually from the bone too, as well, before burial too, as well.

Twenty minutes of that was far too, as well, much for me. How could anyone make such gory and interesting stories so excruciating to listen to?

Jumping off the good ship too, as well, we had a look around the museum instead.

One cool exhibit was this life size model of an eagle's nest. Life size means big. I could have comfortably climbed up there and curled up for a nap inside.

I decided not to, however, once I'd taken a look inside. It might be only a model, but I wouldn't want to argue about it with an angry and disoriented eagle.

Dam Mississippi

Modern river boat trade on the Mississippi was made possible only by some fairly major efforts from the US Army Corps of Engineers. A minimum depth of 9 feet was deemed to be required for safe passage. For the Upper Mississippi River to meet this standard a series of navigation locks and dams was required, authorised in 1930.

It was a big project, because this is a big river. A variety of vessels use the locks during the navigation season, from large tow boats with barges to teeny little canoes. The locks provide vertical lift ranging from a few feet to over 12 feet. Cargo is often grain, with the Mississippi River still providing a major artery for grain from the Midwest to reach domestic and international markets. More than 9,000 recreational craft use the locks each year.

I'm sure it was quite different when Mark Twain was a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi. He had to memorise the safe channels in both directions for the entire length of the river and the depth was checked with constant soundings. In fact, that's where the pseudonym Mark Twain came from. Safe depth was two fathoms. The man taking the sounding would call out "Mark" at the first fathom, and "Mark Twain" at the second fathom. Thus, "mark twain" means "safe depth."

As we drove alongside the river we passed a river barge making its way south and decided to stop at the next lock to watch the docking procedure. As a tourist experience this was both quite exciting and extremely slow, a bit like watching The Terminator entirely in slow motion. There was an initial flurry of activity as the barge approached. The guy who was mowing the lawns was hussled into the office as all the staff assumed their docking stations, where they waited for the next 45 minutes as the barge slowly drew closer.

Eventually even the staff started to get bored, so they opened the gates a good 25 minutes before the barge was in any danger of getting close to the lock.

Coming in on a sharp angle, the pilot had to perfectly line up the 9 barges lashed to the front of the tow boat with the lock ahead. It was impossible to appreciate from a distance how difficult and important this task this was. We had no idea how tight a fit this was going to be.

A bit bored by the freeze-frame approach of the barge I paused briefly to take a photograph of a passing freight train. It was much more exciting. A few loud toots of the horn, a sound like a thunderstorm with the palsy and it was all over in under two minutes. It was a stark contrast to the stately, almost imperceptible, progression of the barge docking.

There's a chart next to the dock. It helpfully points out how much more a river barge can carry than a freight train. It's a lot, but I couldn't help noticing that freight trains move a whole lot faster. You wouldn't want to carry time sensitive goods on the river, or take on staff that are too old - just in case they reach retirement age before the end of the journey.

Even as it came closer we didn't quite appreciate the snugness with which the lock would fit the barges.

Only when they clanged against the wall and were slowly guided into the lock by staff tugging on ropes did we realise that even a very skinny and determinedly suicidal person would have trouble squeezing into the gap on either side. This load had been built to fit like spandex bike shorts.

It's pretty primitive technology. Twelve big, rusty steel buckets are lashed together with cables and then pushed along by a boat.

There are only a handful of staff on the barges. It must be tough work for the muscle men. Long periods of boredom interspersed with bursts of hard manual labour while wearing uncomfortable and unfashionable little plastic floatation devices. The guy on the barge is asking the guy on the dock what the temperature forecast is for that night. Suddenly I remember that even in Mark Twain's day the riverboats ran 24 hours. Surely they would do no less in the age of modern navigation methods? For the record, the nights in this part of the world are distinctly chilly, even in summer. I don't want to work on a river barge.

The load on this boat turned out to be too large to fit through the lock in one go. The first six barges were decoupled from the six behind. Then the boat backed out with six barges and the first lot were flushed out of the lock by themselves to wait for the rest of the load to catch up.

By this stage we were sufficiently bored and hungry that we decided to abandon ship and let the process continue without our supervision.

Great River Road - La Crosse to Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin

At La Crescent we crossed the river into Wisconsin and continued our journey south along the Great River Road.

In La Crosse, Wisconsin we tried to go up to Grandad Bluff, a major landmark mentioned by Mark Twain in Life on the Mississippi. Alas, the road was closed and, under time pressure, we decided not to hike the few miles up the hill to see the view. Instead we admired the big, beautiful houses on Main Street.

It was pretty easy to imagine myself in the hammock on this porch, soaking up the lazy vibes of summer on the Mississippi. I could perhaps learn to play lacrosse, about which I know almost nothing, but I would be willing to find out.

I could watch the squirrels collect acorns on the road and write endless purple blog entries about hummingbirds and buzzing bees.


Several of the houses had unusual features, like this exterior spiral staircase.

These places are so huge that I wonder if it is possible that they are still single family dwellings. Perhaps they have all been converted to apartments inside.

That's what I'd do if I owned this one (my favourite). I'd pick a corner for myself and rent out the rest, but only to people I really liked. What an amazing house in which to build a little community.

The house actually is for sale. I didn't ask about the price, but if anyone is interested in buying it and turning it into a big shared house please let me know. The realtor's number is below for your convenience.

We passed through Ferryville, which my guidebook describes as "perhaps the nation's longest one street village (more than a mile)." I was surprised to find such an ambiguous description in such a reputable publication. Perhaps? Once I saw the town I was even more surprised because there was at least one tiny back street behind the "one street," thus surely disqualifying Ferryville from the single street village category.

The road wove on around the base of sandstone bluffs. The river is marshy and dotted with little islands in this area. Closer to Prairie du Chien, a former outpost for French voyagers, the landscape changes to cornfields and cows. With apologies to the fine people of Prairie du Chien I must say the town has little of the charm that its history suggests. If you want to eat at Burger King, or shop at Walmart, then this is the place. Otherwise, go across the river into Iowa and stay somewhere picturesque, like Marquette. That's what we should have done.

One strange thing that happened in Prairie du Chien is that we passed the White House. Not the one in Washington D.C. at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. This is a different one. It's a large white building that houses a wedding business but, with the columns and the American flags and the big sign announcing "the White House," it was a pretty good substitute for someone who had just been forced to call off their visit to the real thing.

The Great River Road - Red Wing to La Crescent, Minnesota

According to the National Geographic Guide to Scenic Highways and Byways, it's hard to go wrong anywhere in the vicinity of the Mississippi River. The so-called Great River Road starts at Lake Itasca and runs along the river, a bit on each side, until halfway down Illinois. For the benefit of Aussie readers, that's a long way (about 1,500 kms or 970 miles).

From the Twin Cities we headed south to the town of Red Wing, Minnesota, which is famous for stoneware and Red Wing shoes. We didn't see much in the way of pottery, but we did visit the home of Red Wing shoes. There I discovered that my much loved Vasque hiking boots are actually a Red Wing product. I also discovered that, no matter what, women's motorcycle boots are never on sale. Part of the store is set aside to a little information exhibition, outlining the manufacturing process for the boots and identifying some famous Red Wing wearers, like Mark Harmon and President George, W. Bush. I don't know how positive a recommendation it is to have your shoes up on a pouffe in the Oval Office, but I took comfort in the fact that Mark Harmon still looks pretty fit. I also found the perfect Christmas present for my Dad. I think a giant pair of camo hunting boots are just the thing.


Red Wing is nestled against the shore of Lake Pepin, a wide, backed up section of the Mississippi. The Lake is bounded by a sandbar near Read's Landing, caused by the rapid entrance of Wisconsin's Chippewa River into the Mississippi.

We passed through the town of Wabasha on our way south beside Lake Pepin. The National Geographic guidebook suggested that we note Anderson House on our way through. The book says that it is Minnesota's oldest hotel and is known for its "Pennsylvania Dutch food and bedtime cat companions." It was only after I checked out the hotel's website that I realised how true this was. At this hotel you can reserve a cat with the room. Your feline companion is delivered with litterbox, food and toys for your enjoyment. I now wish we had spent the night here instead of just driving past.

The guidebook also instructed us to look out for John A. Latsch Wayside State Park with its five bluffs, including Faith, Hope and Charity. These three prominent bluffs were named by steamboat captains who used them as landmarks. I couldn't find any reference to the names of the other two bluffs, so I took the initiative and gave them new names. five The bluffs of the John A. Latsch Wayside State Park shall henceforth be known as Faith, Hope, Charity, Fred and Wilma.

We stopped for lunch in the town of Winona. This 19th century lumber town sits on a giant sandbar at the side of the river. During fall (autumn) migration, about half of North America's canvasback ducks stop here to feed. Of course, it's still summer so I didn't see any of them, but I have absolute faith in the assertion of the guidebook.

We asked Thelma for a lunch recommendation and she immediately served up the goods with a restaurant called "Prime Steak 'n Cake." For such an intriguing name we just had to stop.


Alas, Thelma's out of date database had struck again and the restaurant had rebranded itself much less imaginatively as "Timbers" restaurant. Fortunately, a remnant of the old name still remained for blogging purposes.



The new sign suggested some potentially odd food choices. I still don't know just what "auce shrimp"might be. Although I was sorely tempted by the promise of "Al dente sauce" on the pasta, I elected to give myself over to the cultural experience and try the local elk burger. Before taking my first bite I improved the serving by adding beetroot from the salad bar. This raised a few American eyebrows but was well worth the effort.

We drove on past Trempealuea Mountain, the only rock island on the river that is as high as the bluffs on either side. Unfortunately, as significant as this landmark might sound, we somehow managed to miss it.

This leg of the journey ended in La Crescent, apple capital of Minnesota, where I was amused by the sight of "golden arches" on a construction site. Please tell me they're building a McDonalds.

The Twin Cities airport pick-up loop

I was meeting Dad and Patricia in the Twin Cities. Their plane was due to land a little before 8.15pm. I decided to aim for an 8:25pm arrival just in case they made a quick exit or an early flight, figuring that even if they were really early I was only five minutes away at the Mall of America ... well, five minutes once I'd made the 25 minute walk to the Puff Lite.

First I had to figure out at which of the two Minneapolis-St Paul airports they were going to land. This place is crazy ... they even have twin airports. I went into a cafe with a wireless Internet hotspot, thinking that Google would surely be able to steer me right. First, I had to purchase a block of time online with a credit card. No problem.

Oh no, wait. That is a problem. I don't know why this is so common, but it is often impossible to shop on US sites with an Australian credit card, even ones that offer Australia on their drop down address menu. When I was booking my flights for Panama I discovered that American Airlines, incredibly, couldn't even take my card over the phone. Hoping that a tech savvy Wi-Fi company would fare better I phoned their 1-800 number. I then spent 10 minutes trying to negotiate their menu system, only to be informed at the end of the menus that they are experiencing technical difficulties and are unable to help at this time. Please call again later.

I gave up on them and used my phone-a-friend option. Marcus, wonderful IT Knight-in-Shining-Armour that he is, was able to promptly decipher which airport I wanted, and set up a Wi-Fi account on my behalf. What a legend.

Having arrived at the correct terminal at 8:26pm I started slowly making the endless loop around the pick-up/drop-off zone. About ten minutes and five laps later Dad called to report that they were on the ground, but nowhere near the front door.

I looped on for another half hour and 15 laps or so until he called again. Having packed them and their luggage into the surprisingly spacious Puff Life I drove out again, heroically resisting the hypnotic temptation to go around the loop just one more time.

Shrine to commerce - The Mall of America

One cool thing I did do in the Twin Cities was visit that great shrine to commerce, the Mall of America. I know what you're thinking. So what, right? It's just a mall.

It's not just a mall.

It's the mall.

Just to give you an idea how huge this thing really is, the largest indoor theme park in the USA is inside it.




This is not a couple of dinky little rides billed as a theme park. This is the real deal. There are two roller coasters, water slides, even a Ferris wheel, all right in the middle of the mall. Elsewhere in the building is a mini golf course, a hotel and casino, even a wedding chapel. The mall is conveniently located just across the road from the airport, so you could fly in for a week's vacation and never have to leave.

This really is the mega mall. It's so big it has its own chain of merchandise and retail outlets to sell it. Wikipedia says that this is the most visited mall in North America, although it is not the biggest, with over 40 million visitors annually, or roughly 8 times the population of Minnesota. It took me over two hours of constant walking just to do a quick lap of each floor, and that's without exploring the theme park or going into any of the four massive department stores. This place is big.

The highlight for me was finding an extremely cool toy. It started outside in the car park when I walked past this handsome and somehow familiar looking Ducati. Not 15 mins later I was making my way into the mall through Sears when I saw this fabulous toy for some lucky pre-schooler. For the first time in my life I wished I had a kid, or at least a niece or nephew, just so I could give them this bike.

There was also a toy Vespa right beside the mini Monster. Oh, so cool. They both have two speeds of 2.5 or 5 miles per hour (the fast one can be disabled by an adult) and come with removable training wheels. Of course the manufacturer, Peg Perego, is an Italian company and these are the only two motorcycles in their range, but you just wouldn't be in America without a tiny cruiser.

The Mall of America was also the site of my latest encounter with a Road Trip Angel. This generous woman, having convinced me that I really did want the nail and skin care product that she had just demonstrated to me, proceeded to give me a substantial discount once I demonstrated that I really did only have a small amount of cash in my pockets. I had, very prudently, allocated a small cash budget before entering the shrine to commerce, and I had already purchased food and a souvenir T-shirt before I met the Road Trip Angel and her soothing balm and nail polishing kit. The price went down rapidly from out of my league to the pitiful dregs that were left in my pocket. Thank you again. My fingernails look great!

Cool stuff I didn't do in the Twin Cities

With only one day to explore a place as large and vibrant and interesting as the Twin Cities, it is inevitable that I would miss out on some cool stuff. These are just two that came to my attention while I was there. No doubt there are dozens of others as well.

The first thing I really wanted and couldn't have was the Segway Magical History Tour of Minneapolis-St Paul. As soon as I saw the brochure at the museum I knew I wanted to glide around the city in one of those dorky little helmets. I rang the number on the brochure, but that day was already booked solid. I was devastated.

I later mentioned this disappointment to Ducati Kevin (who is actually a relocated Minnesotan). Not only did he know exactly what I was talking about, he totally understood the depth of my misery. "Do you watch them training before the tour?" He smiled gleefully. "It's the funniest thing you'll ever see."

Alas, I had not stuck around to laugh at tourists frightening themselves on Segways. Instead, I had gone crawling back to Thelma in the hope that she might be able to suggest an interesting substitute activity.

Thelma struck gold almost immediately. Under the "All Attractions" menu was the Museum of Questionable Medical Devices, just half a mile away on the other side of the river. What could be a more interesting attraction? This was actually better than a Segway Tour! I hit the big green "Go" button and let Thelma lead me towards my next blog entry.

Actually, where she led me was the second shining example of cool stuff I didn't do in the Twin Cities. Thelma cheerfully announced my arrival at my destination "on right," but I couldn't find any evidence of the holy grail of tourist amusement. I asked a waitress at the cafe in the building, but she knew nothing of any Museum of Questionable Medical Devices.

As you will see from their website, at which you really should take a look, the museum relocated to a new site in 2002. It seems nobody told Thelma. I cursed her teasing sat nav ways under my breath for a while before punching in my next destination. I had obviously spoken a little too loudly, however, because she immediately tried to take me onto the collapsed I-35W bridge again.

Trouble at the mill - The Mill City Museum

In 1874 the Washburn "A" mill on the west bank of the Mississippi was built. It was the second largest mill in the Mill City. In those exciting early days of the Minneapolis flour industry, thick clouds of dust rose up from each of the mills and settled on every surface. The staff all looked like they'd been licked and dipped in sherbet.

In 1878 the airborne flour dust ignited and exploded. The seven story building was blown apart, two other mills were destroyed in the blast and the spreading fire flattened the surrounding area. Eighteen people were killed. This Great Mill Disaster led to revolutionary changes in the milling industry to reduce dust build up. Ventilation systems to capture (and then bag and sell) the flour dust were installed and there was never another dust explosion in Minneapolis.

The Washburn "A" mill was rebuilt bigger and better than ever, the biggest and most technologically advanced mill in the world. It continued to operate for another 50 years before the mill closed and the building was abandoned. Empty for nearly 30 years, the building was ruined by fire in the early 1990s and now hosts the Mill City Museum.


There are lots of cool things to do and see at the museum. I learned a lot of interesting things about flour in the couple of hours I spent wandering around in here. I learned, for instance, that there is an insect called the Confused Flour Beetle. That alone was worth the price of the ticket.


There is also an interesting audio visual presentation in an elevator which takes the group up and down through the various levels of the mill to see static and video displays, as well as hearing the recorded voices of many former mill workers. Photography is forbidden on the tour, so you'll just have to go and see it for yourselves.

The best bit of the museum was the toys. There were models to play with, building bridges and controlling the flow of water through canals. Other tables allowed experimentation with different types of water wheels and turbines, or directing logs downstream into the correct yards. It's easy to see how much damage was done to St Anthony Falls by logs, at least it is if the timber traders were as lousy at this game as I am.


I love watching grown-ups play with toys. This woman was slightly self-conscious about the camera until I showed her that I was already wet to the elbows from my own efforts. Recognising a kindred spirit she consented to be blogged.


The parent or guardian who was supervising this little flour milling operation was even more worried about my camera work, at least until I offered to take their picture with their camera. See, I really did want the photo for my blog. I know it sounds a little strange, but it's true.



This device was particularly good fun, and wet. The idea was to try to block the force of the water with the palm of your hand so that you can feel the might of water turbine power, also so that you can spray yourself with water. The perfect "educational" exhibit.

The Twin Cities: Minneapolis-St Paul

The so called Twin Cities of Minneapolis-St Paul combine to form the sixteenth largest metropolitan area in the United States, and the population and cultural centre of Minnesota. Although the two cities abut, they do have distinct characters and histories. Minneapolis has Scandinavian/Lutheran roots and been referred to as the "first" city of the American West, while early German Catholic and Irish influences helped to define St Paul as the "last" city of the east.

The Twin Cities lie along both banks of the Mississippi River. There are more crossings of this river here than in any other city along its banks. Indeed, the river was crucial to the development of the Twin Cities. St Paul was founded at a natural landing where loading and unloading boats was easy. Minneapolis grew up around Saint Anthony Falls, the only waterfall on the Mississippi. The falls were harnessed from the earliest days of the city to power flour and saw mills. Later, the falls began to disintegrate through natural erosion and the impact of the logs floated down the river for the timber trade. The Twin Cities took careful action to ensure their continued prosperity by building a concrete apron to protect the falls and prevent them subsiding into a series of rapids.

Excavation and conservation of the extensive pipes, channels and canals that ran through and under the city gives some indication of what an enormous undertaking it was to build this city. Every mill was served by its own artificial stream, which then fed back into the river. Powered by the waterfall, the milling industry became so important to the city, and the country, that Minneapolis was known as the Mill City. Even today working and abandoned flour mills still line the banks of the river in the old downtown district near St Anthony Falls.

Careful to secure both a lasting power source and healthy river boat trade, Minneapolis-St Paul also boasts the greatest change in water level of the many locks and dams installed along the Mississippi. The locks and dams were created as part of the 9 foot navigation program, an enormous project which ensured a minimum depth of 9 feet in a freight boat channel along the river. Now this is a lock.

The Twin Cities are an artistic centre, the home of regional theatre in the upper Midwest, and have one of the largest live theatre audiences per capita in the country. It's also an educational hub and a sporting powerhouse. There's a lot going on here.

I saw a humorous video presentation about the Twin Cities that described them as having a perpetually adolescent air. There is certainly a lot of energy around. I saw an amazing number of people jog in scorching noon heat across the stone arch bridge that curves over the river. How can the same people who endure the frigid winter here be able to jog in such high temperatures and a million percent humidity?

The Twin Cities had suffered a tragedy shortly before my arrival. The I-35W bridge across the Mississippi collapsed during the evening rush hour, killing 13 people. Everywhere I looked there were reminders of the disaster in the closed off entrance ramps to the I-35. I had plenty of opportunity to notice them because Thelma, who doesn't follow the news, didn't know about the collapse and attempted to get me onto the I-35W at every opportunity. At least, I hope Thelma didn't know about the collapse. I could be in a lot of trouble if my satelite navigation unit has decided to start steering me off collapsed bridges.