R and J in the USA

We didn’t know exactly what our expectations of Iowa were, but we did know that Iowa blew them right out of the water.

We crossed the Mississippi River from Wisconsin into Iowa at night and were blown away by daylight views of the legendary river come the next morning. We started our journey in Iowa at Pikes Peak State Park (not to be confused with Colorado’s Pikes Peak) and were in awe of the native people’s sacred site at Effigy Mounds National Monument.

We quickly learned we had entered the land of rivers at George Wyeth State Park, located west of the Mississippi at the juncture of yet another handful of rivers with warnings not to swim, as even strong swimmers underestimate the current.

We ran into some local runners, who you can read about in our People Along the Way section, and we made our way to the John Deere Museum for our Iowa 5K, which you can read about in our 5K section. We were more than a little excited that our 5K would be John Deere themed as we felt it would be a perfect way to pay homage to Iowa. And it was. The run was great and the John Deere Museum was even greater. We got to peer into this little piece of American industrial and agricultural iconography – how it came about, the impact it had, and the meaning it has in so many parts of America. We saw folks in fantastic overalls. We had to remind ourselves that we were out where overalls that may look stylish and fashionable are worn for authentic utility.

We made our way to the American Gothic house in the little town Eldon and took a picture of ourselves in front of the famed gothic window. While there we stumbled upon a 0.5K fun run (that’s POINT 5K) that served bacon at its hydration stations. We had the time of our lives in little Eldon before moving on to view the iconic Bridges of Madison County. We ran into a fellow couple bridge-view-hopping that was on their own travel adventure.

We stayed at the most wonderful little Harvest Host in the middle of the miles and miles (and miles) of Iowa corn alongside a perfect little pond where the sunrises were as beautiful as the air was peaceful. 

We gorged ourselves on all manner of creative and gluttonous delights at the Iowa State Fair, from kettle corn to bacon-wrapped ribs on a stick to gluten free corn dogs (for Julie of course) to a bucket (yes, you read that right) of chocolate chip cookies (for Ryan). And, of course, a giant turkey leg that gave us meals for at least three days afterwards.

We had a poignant talk on a golf cart back to our parking spot at the fair with Cleon, a 90-something year old who had stories to tell and was enthused to have a captive audience.

We visited the state capitol and were impressed, as was becoming a pattern, by the architecture, the history, the civics, and the cultural components that enriched us. We were struck by a stunning Holocaust memorial that honored not only all the Iowan boys that helped liberate the camps, but also the myriad survivors that were taken in by the state of Iowa to find and build a new home on the other side of all the horrors.

We biked through a metal sculpture over yet another of Iowa’s rivers and were impressed by the incredible bike trail system that Iowa boasted throughout the entire state. We stuck true to our new commitment to see some of the country’s superlatives and made a stop at the World’s Largest (Concrete) Garden Gnome, while forgoing the World’s Largest Strawberry for time.

We made our way to what would stand out as a trip favorite when our spirits were lifted to a special place playing ball on the actual Field of Dreams. We both disappeared into the corn and saw that James Earl Jones (RIP) was right. We had come to Iowa for reasons we couldn’t even fathom. We turned up at their driveway, not knowing for sure why we were doing it. We arrived at their door as innocent as children, longing for the past. We paid our $20 and they let us look around. We did sit on the bleachers, but we found ourselves dipped in that magic when we grabbed a ball and glove and started playing catch right there on the Field of Dreams.

That magic was so strong that we made sure to buy a ball in the gift store and started playing catch again. Yes, James Earl Jones/Terrence Mann was right alright. “The memories were so thick we’d have to brush them away from our faces.” But we didn’t brush them away. We dove in and we loved every single second of it.

We took in both baseball and movie history at the two teeny little Field of Dreams museums in the nearby town of Dyersville.

We made our way to Dubuque where we took the Fenelon Elevator to the top of a hill and grabbed a beautiful view of the city, with the Mississippi winding strong on its edge and a riverboat cruise disembarking its passengers.

We visited the National Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium, where we touched stingrays and starfish and gasped in awe at how adorable river otters are. 

We popped into the casino next door and pumped $10 into a video poker machine and played until we ran the money down. There being few opportunities to swim in natural waters in Iowa, Julie popped into the indoor waterpark next to the Museum to take a swim in its playful pools and, yes, hope on a few waterslides for kicks.  We slept in the Mississippi River air and woke up, once again, with no desire to leave the state we had just spent five days getting to know.

While the miles and miles of corn impressed us and had a special intoxicating beauty to it that we didn’t expect, more than anything it was the people of Iowa that really moved us. We found people who were welcoming and friendly and appreciative to have someone take interest in visiting their special little enclave in the heartland of America. We also found a people that loved where they lived with a notable passion that made us feel something. We found a people that had taken that quote from Field of Dreams and made it their own – and they meant it. “Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.” To our surprise, we left feeling the same way.