Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
As I was sitting on a log over the river, looking in the direction of the Gulf of Mexico,
a boy maybe ten years old with unruly blond hair, wearing cutoff shorts and no shirt,
came charging upstream, whooping. My own personal Huck Finn.
The next morning, combating a brisk, cold wind in bright sunshine, I rode the park's
sixteen-mile loop road: it was a highlight of the whole trip, a swooping jaunt with curvy,
smoothly paved downhills through dense forest, past swampy ponds, and along the
shores of two broad lakes. When I got back to the cabin where I was staying, I had com-
pany.
In 1993, when I made my first cycling journey across the United States, my old college
pal Alan Blomquist decided it would be fun to rendezvous somewhere along the way. It
wasn't exactly convenient for him. He lived in Los Angeles, but found his way to Pierre,
