The Ends of the Earth

Somerset, Wisconsin to Saint Paul, Minnesota Saturday, June 19, 2021

Kind of a head-slap moment. If I’m trying to see all the states, and their highpoints, how about the state capitals? I had to memorize them as a kid, and they’re all kind of grand. Looking back, I realized I was only 10 miles away from Albany, and not that far from Columbus, Indianapolis, and Madison. OK, Harrisburg, Lansing and Springfield would have been a stretch.

Whatever, I was excited to see the Twin Cities, and St. Paul. The capitol did not disappoint.

It even sits on a Capitol Hill. I had to grunt up Cedar Street to get to the dome. My next must-see was the Fitzgerald Theatre, where Garrison Keillor recorded most of the episodes of The Prairie Home Companion, but that was down the hill, and I didn’t want to climb it again. Instead I settled for the Cathedral of St. Paul, pretty iconic in its own right (the third largest cathedral in North America), giving St. Paul’s in London a run for its money.

It was up an even higher hill, but that meant Summit Street was all downhill to my Warmshowers hosts for the next two nights, Rene and Matthew Swanson. Their house was so ideal, renovated with so many modern touches (Matt is a contractor) and so artfully landscaped.

Matt and Renee are ardent bikers, as are their children Adam and Claire, and their garage was packed with bicycles. We talked about our respective adventures over homemade bruschetta and BLTs deep into the night. The family has crossed the country and taken many trips to Europe. I was amazed that they could get away so much in the middle of their careers. Renee is a biology teacher for a charter school focusing on hip-hop artists, and Matt is self-employed, so they make it a priority to take long vacations in the summer. What a great gift to give your children.

The Twin Cities area is famous for its bike-friendliness, and that was apparent thirty miles away. I crossed back into Minnesota at Stillwater, which has repurposed an old lift bridge for pedestrians and bikers only; the scene was very festive on this lovely Saturday afternoon. I couldn’t get the crowd shots to download, but I did catch the lift bridge in action.

I’d dealt with the steep bluffs of the St. Croix yesterday and was dreading the climb now. Not to worry. The Brown’s Creek State Trail managed to lift me so gradually I barely noticed the climb, and the Gateway State Trail took me almost all the way to the Capitol while avoiding the busy streets. A biker’s paradise indeed.

Distance 40 miles, 2,882 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,541 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Cambridge, Minnesota to Somerset, Wisconsin Friday, June 18, 2021

I knew I had a long way to go today, so I hustled and got out “early”, meaning at 9:45. Pretty pathetic, actually.

The Adventure Cycling route is meandering back-and-forth across the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin, so today I reentered the Badger State after more than three weeks. Crossing the state line was spectacular, the St. Croix River Valley, although the surrounding bluffs meant a steep descent and then ascent. In trying to maintain momentum, I was unable to snap a picture. Too bad, the Saint Croix is a National Scenic River Area.

The 40 miles before the crossing was flat and fairly featureless, although I find the verdant farms quite beautiful. There was no place to stop for lunch for 36 miles, but a saloon in Shafer served a great meal, and across the street was a real gem, the Maklin Bike Shop. The owners, Steve and Lynn Hamlin, decided to quit their professional careers and the “rat race” at a young age and opened up a first class bike store in this tiny town, surrounded by beautiful bike routes. I love stories like that. I bought a pair of high-end (to cover my lower end) bike shorts there at a better price that I could find in the city. They were both very busy, as all bike stores are in this post-pandemic time, but they still made time to chat with me, and give me advice about the best roads to take.

I was dismayed to see that the Adventure Cycling route put me on a road that had loose gravel, so I jumped onto a fairly busy state highway to take me the last 5 miles into Somerset, where there was a delightful campground on the Apple River. This is a popular tubing area, but with the drought the river is so low that it’s not happening. Sure was a scenic place to camp, though.

That building across the way is a venue used for weddings, and there was one there tonight. Sort of weird to be roughing it across from people dressed to kill; the schmaltzy wedding music ended before it got too late, and I was lulled to sleep by the babbling river.

Distance 62 miles, 2,842 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,292 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Milaca to Cambridge, Minnesota. Thursday, June 17, 2021

Well we weren’t Andre Gregory and Wallace Shawn, but the conversation was just as riveting. Dr. Donald Deye turns out to be as charming in person as he on digital media, and we talked nonstop for 2 1/2 hours. I thought for sure he would need to get back to get ready for his trip to Louisiana, but his wife was working that evening and he was happy to have dinner with me. I was happier. It was great to hear his origin story, how his career path somewhat paralleled mine, how the MKSAP Audio Companion was entirely his idea, and our many shared experiences. Two examples: we are both married to nurse practitioners, and we both spent time at MIT.

As we left the restaurant, we chatted with two lovely couples outside, and I took their picture.

It was only then I realized I was so wrapped up in our conversation that I never got a picture of Don himself. Fortunately, he also realized the omission and texted me, and we exchanged photos. Still, I was hoping for that “money shot” of the two of us together. Maybe I can get one of my children to Photoshop us together.

Also outside the restaurant was a street concert, they had barricaded Main Street and a number of bands were playing lovely music. Such a wonderful evening I don’t think my wheels touched the pavement as I biked back to the hotel.

Compared to that experience the earlier part of the day was rather prosaic. I had to rush a bit, but was helped by the terrain and the wind. Troy, the “trail angel” that had helped me last night, came back again to let me into the locked bathroom, and I was able to get his picture.

I stopped for a Coke at a bar about halfway there, and chatted with Rob and Leslie, on their way up to Mille Lacs to spend time with a group of friends that get together every year to go fishing. Their story made me nostalgic for the annual get-together I had just missed, with my buds on that driving/hiking junket we call PHSIDARUTT.

All these pleasant people, made the tiny scrap of unpleasantness stand out. Somebody yelled at me from a passing truck on the county highway I was on. At least I think he was yelling at me. All I heard was “The road!” and saw some guy in the open passenger window. Remarkable because this was the first bit of attitude I’d gotten in over 2,700 miles. Also because at that spot I was over to the right as far as I could go, and signaling for a right hand turn. I wasn’t impeding traffic at all. And this was on the “official” Adventure Cycling route, so I imagine lots of bikers use it. Of course, it would be perfectly legal to take the entire lane if conditions merited; bicycles are legal street vehicles in all 50 states.

People often ask if I feel safe on the road, with all that traffic. As I mentioned quite a few posts back, I have always felt perfectly safe, never had a close call, and continue to follow the teachings of the seminal book on the subject, Effective Cycling. This little incident, if it even was an incident, doesn’t change that.

Well, now it’s been two full months. I miss my family and friends desperately, but I’m still having a wonderful time. We’ll see if we can keep this up, with the heat, drought and wildfires raging in the west.

Distance 35 miles, 2,780 total. Time 4 hours with stops. Elevation gain 508 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Little Falls to Milaca, Minnesota. Wednesday, June 16, 2021

Today was a day of little hassles and great joy. I am having supplies sent ahead to a friend of mine in Wisconsin, but I had to follow up on emails and online orders to make sure stuff would arrive in time. I discovered that the family finances, which I have been entering into Quicken religiously, are jacked up. Apparently you need to sync with the desktop on a regular basis, I hadn’t been doing that. A call to their customer service was helpful, and I had Jane log into my desktop at home for the first time in two months, so at least transactions will be valid from now on. However, all the previous details were lost.

So despite the headwind and the longer mileage today, I still didn’t get going till 1:30. I am going to have to get more efficient. Ideally, I’d like to get going by the early morning and be done by the early afternoon. Hasn’t worked out so far, however.

The headwind wasn’t too bad, the climbs were gradual, the scenery pleasant. One brief stretch of bike trail, otherwise unremarkable, had been renamed the Lake Wobegon Trail. I had to call my strong wife, and chat about our above average children. If only I was good looking…

I was delighted to make contact with a doctor I’d hoped I could meet tomorrow, Donald Deye. He is the host of a superb CME series that I have been listening to for almost 20 years, called MKSAP Audio Companion. MKSAP stands for Medical Knowledge Self-Assessment Program, a tool many of us use to stay current. The audio version is comprehensive and quite fun to listen to, largely because of Dr. Deye. He serves as kind of uber-internist, discussing the details of each medical subspecialty with an expert, asking the kind of questions that generalists typically have, but are sometimes too sheepish to ask. His sense of humor and folksy conversational style typically gets the stuffy specialist to open up, and the exchange of ideas is lively and, for me, a highly efficient way to learn. I can’t count the hours I’ve listened on these bike tours, then taking the quiz at the end to get the CME credit. Over the years, I feel like I almost know him.

He is some years older than me, but still practicing in Cambridge, Minnesota, in addition to this huge job of updating the syllabus every three years. I will be passing very close to Cambridge, and on a whim tried to contact him. To my surprise, he got back to me and we are meeting for drinks after work tomorrow. He will have to go to Louisiana the following day to record another chapter of the syllabus, but still was able to make time for me.

I am still officially on the staff at University of Vermont Medical Center, and get emails about departmental meetings. I noticed that one meeting was happening while I was biking through the countryside, so I phoned in, simply to listen (on mute) to the updates about our medical record system. Hearing the familiar voices of my colleagues in the back-and-forth triggered a startling surge of nostalgia. At the end, I revealed that I had been “lurking” and had a fun little exchange with them.

The sun was setting as I rolled into the tiny town of Milaca, delayed even further because of a bridge-out detour. The campground was in the city park, I had called ahead and been told that the showers will be open till 10 PM. I was there at nine, everything was locked and the place was deserted. Fortunately, a landscaper was there spraying the bushes, and told me to call the emergency number. I hated to bother them after hours, this wasn’t really an emergency, but the night person, Troy, was amazingly helpful. He came out and unlocked the bathrooms, said they had been closed because of some vandalism. It wound up being the nicest campground bathroom on the entire trip, I had a luxurious shower and slept like a baby in the deserted campground. Even the homeless person who harangued me briefly in the morning had a little of that Minnesota charm.

Distance 58 miles, 2,745 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 639 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Brainerd to Little Falls, Minnesota Tuesday, June 15, 2021

In Fargo, this is where Marge Gunderson keeps saying where she’s from. Alas, as authentic as this iconic movie feels, there’s almost nothing in it that is true. None of it was filmed in Fargo, or Brainerd. That great accent, referred to as “Minnesota Nice” is almost never heard. I’ve been in the state now for over two weeks, and only heard it once, in that casino on my first night in Grand Portage. The receptionist had it so thick I thought she was from central casting. Oh yah, yew betcha. The opening of the film announces it as a true story, but Ethan and Joel Coen admitted that it was completely made up. It’s so brilliant, and the fondness of the Coens for their home state so obvious, however, that you forgive the mendacity.

I knew I wouldn’t find the Paul Bunyan statue, but I was hoping to at least see the sign.

I have come to accept that most American small cities have devolved into suburban sprawl, but Brainerd has made it into an art form. I had located a Costco for some supplies I needed, but had to negotiate an almost comical series of concrete barriers and on/off ramps to get there, and once there, there was of course no place to lock the bike. I had to lean it against the railing right in front of the check-in person, and hope for the best. I searched in vain for sunscreen, they were all out. Huh? The guy said everybody is desperate to get outdoors after more than a year of Covid quarantines, and these Scandinavian Minnesota types are especially needy of sun protection.

Uh oh. This could be dire. I’m a melanoma survivor myself (stage 1A), and have been slathering the stuff on religiously. Somewhat frantically I negotiated the Brainerd sprawl and traffic, and finally scored a couple of tubes at a Walgreens. Whew.

Had to take a zoom call at 2PM, figured I’d better stay in town where there was a strong signal. Needed a table and shade, found one in front of a building that looked public. An older gentleman came out and said it would be OK. 45 minutes into the call a woman came out and said I had to move, this was a senior care home and the guy was not fully compos mentis. I had to complete the call by a busy highway. So much for Minnesota Nice. Brainerd turns out to be a shrine to the American automobile. No wonder they need a pipeline.

So didn’t get rolling until 3:30, another patented Luria jackrabbit start. I can’t understand why no one wants to ride with me.

I did the last 15 miles of the glorious Paul Bunyan State Trail (sorry for a the snarky comments, Paul) and talked to a very fit Oddvar Kopischke to confirm that the next miles would have to be along highways or frontage roads. Oddvar is three years older, an Amherst grad, has Nordic skied competitively his whole life, has hung out with the likes of Bill Koch and Gary Fisher (that’s one of his original mountain bikes from Mount Tam), and served as a reminder of how out of shape I really am.

Along those highways I was treated to a bizarre sight, crop dusting. I’ve seen it in movies (most memorably in North by Northwest) but never in real life. Two planes were sweeping and twisting around the fields on either side repeatedly, and flying, I thought, dangerously close to the ground. It’s one thing to do that coming in for a landing, but what if they had a bit of windshear? It seems an awfully inefficient way to spray the fields. Sometimes they passed alarmingly close to me, I was glad for the surrounding trees and telephone wires that kept them from doing the Cary Grant thing.

Passed the slightly foreboding gate to Camp Ripley before arriving in Little Falls, just in time for a mediocre Chinese meal and a sunset ride to my campsite.

Headwind tomorrow, maybe get my butt in gear before noon?

Distance 45 miles, 2,687 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 331 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Walker to Baxter, Minnesota. Monday, June 14, 2021

Was this ever a delightful day. I spent the entire day on paved bike paths, principally the Paul Bunyan State Bike Trail. Except for a few tree roots, and occasional construction, it was in great shape. Add a strong tailwind, and I was on Easy Street once again.

Almost easy. Today I learned a lesson about not getting too cocky. People often ask me, “what about flat tires?” and I brag about my Schwalbe Marathon Plus tires, heavy and slow (just like me), but absolutely puncture-proof. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a flat tire. Well now I remember.

I’m whizzing along a deserted stretch of bike path, when suddenly my back wheel felt squirrley. Within a few seconds, the tire was completely flat. I had to wheel it to a place with a little shade and not too many bugs. Right away I found the culprit (a blessing, actually, as it is often difficult to figure out what made the tire go flat) and pull out this little half-inch long piece of nastiness, which I can’t identify.

Sorry the picture is blurry, but I was really puzzled, I wanted to make sure I didn’t roll over something like that again. It was easy to partially remove the tire, pull out the tube and find the hole, but the patch I put on didn’t work, so I had to remove the entire wheel anyway and replace it with a new tube. The whole process wound up taking an hour and a half, since my little frame-mounted pump takes forever to fill these big tires to 85 psi, and by then the bugs had found me. Well, only one flat in over 2,600 miles, I guess I can’t complain.

With the delay, I had to stop for lunch before I hit a sizable town, and the little hamlet of Backus only had a saloon, which served burgers. A heavier meal that I wanted, but it was fun to attract a crowd of bar-goers, and bask in the attention. Here I encountered the only other bike tourists of the day, they were headed north to Bemidji, my tailwind was their headwind. My heart went out to them. I later heard from one of them, Ron.

Something weird happened after that unusually heavy meal, I felt crazy sleepy. I’m serious, my eyes were drooping, I would almost doze off and then awake with a start as my bike started to swerve. This had happened to me only once before, back in 1975 when I biked all night to get to Cape Cod. I’ve heard of falling asleep behind the wheel, but this was ridiculous. I had to find a bench and take a catnap. I can only imagine what passing bike riders were thinking.

I think I only dozed for a few minutes, but the effect was remarkable, I felt wide awake and more energetic than ever. Decided I could go an extra 15 miles. The weather was just delightful, and the route threaded through many of those legendary 10,000 Minnesota Lakes. Sapphire-blue, stunning, but not much to photograph, since the land around them was so flat. I looked in vain for Mia, the iconic Native maiden from the Land-O-Lakes butter box. Just as well, I had forgotten my scotch tape and my X-Acto knife. You degenerate baby boomer boys know what I’m talking about.

I got a funny comment from Patsy, the owner of an ice cream shop in Pequot Lakes. She thought I was a construction worker, or perhaps one of those pipeliners. I realized that my cycling jersey (see previous post) does kind of look like what construction workers wear. Yeah, but do they wear those shorts?

The extra 15 miles took me to Baxter, a suburb of Brainerd, Minnesota, the principal location for the classic 1996 movie Fargo. No campgrounds here, but the Comfort Suites was affordable, and had the most elaborate indoor pool I’ve seen so far.

In another Ain’t That America moment, the Arby’s across the street was closed except for the drive-thru. I had to walk up to the drive-thru window and order, then walk to the next window to pay, and a third window to get my food. The cars in line behind me looked at me like I was from Mars.

I had to watch Fargo, of course, because that’s just who I am. I learned to my disappointment that the iconic Paul Bunyan statue from the movie was just a prop, no point in looking for it tomorrow. Rats.

Distance 62 miles, 2,642 total. Time 9 hours with stops, flat tire, and catnap. Elevation gain 539 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Lake Itasca to Walker, Minnesota Sunday, June 13, 2021

It seems to follow a pattern, a busy day is followed by a low-key one. Maybe it’s because the time it takes to document the first eats into the second.

Markus came over to inspect the German engineering of my bicycle, and we talked for a good while more. They are heading off Bemidji today. Mary Mitchell from the warmshowers the day before sent a nice follow up note, and a picture from her porch.

I got my trademark late start, but luckily today was easy, with a tailwind, just moving crosswise across the state, to finally re-join the Adventure Cycling Association routes. There was an 8 mile stretch with a dicey shoulder and lots of traffic, but it gave out into the lovely Paul Bunyan bike trail.

Since the Buckingham Fountain in Chicago four weeks ago, I have been off of the ACA system, letting my RideWithGPS app or Google maps point my way, sometimes with disastrous results. It is such a comfort to be back on a route selected by local experienced bicyclists. Curiously, it looks like I’m going backwards. From Buffalo to Western Ohio I was following part of the ACA’s Northern Tier Route, which goes from Maine to Washington state, swinging northward along the Mississippi into Minnesota, before heading west through North Dakota and Montana. I will be heading southward along that same route, as if I was heading back to Maine.

This is because of a particular problematic highpoint, Charles Mound of Illinois. It is privately owned, and the landowner, frustrated by endless visits from highpointers, has closed the property except for the first weekend of the summer months. When I was in Chicago, I was too early for the June weekend. That was the reason for my long loop to the north, so that I can return to Illinois in early July.

Clearly not the most efficient way to do this, but stringing together the highpoints and open-date restrictions is like trying to untie the Gordian knot. I have no regrets, I have found lots of Easter eggs, and met so many intriguing people. Now that I am on a major cross country route, perhaps I will meet more bicycle tourists.

Distance 40 miles, 2,580 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 674 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Bemidji to Lake Itasca, Minnesota. Saturday, June 12, 2021

Another perfect, but event–filled day. Mary made me a wonderful breakfast of blueberry pancakes and whole grains, with real maple syrup. She was a terrific host. As always, the challenge is getting going in the morning, when there is so much to talk about.

I hadn’t actually been to the center of Bemidji, but I had to stop by the bike shop so I got a look. Charming little town, named for a heroic native chief who, like so many others, was promised land in perpetuity only to be displaced and displaced again to ever-shrinking reservations. Such a stain on our history, a theme I will be revisiting a number of times on this trip.

As with many north woods towns, there is the requisite statue of Paul Bunyan, with Babe, his blue ox.

The road to Itasca was only 35 miles, but I’d dithered so long a 25 mph headwind had sprung up, so it took longer. I’m getting used to these, good practice for North Dakota, AKA the “Saudi Arabia of wind”. Stopped in a tiny bar in Becida and had a frosty mug of their local 1919 root beer, struck up a conversation with Louie Pfann and his family who spend summers here and winters in Mesa Arizona, they offered me a place to stay if I pass through Mesa.

Further down the road I saw a bunch of parked cars by a Mississippi crossing, turns out it was an encampment protesting Line 3, the Minnesota pipeline employing all those pipeliners. Now that the plug has been pulled for the Keystone Pipeline, I suspect this project’s days are numbered, too. I rang my bell and raised my fist in solidarity. Reminded me of going downtown to the Department of the Interior in DC at age 16 for the very first Earth Day on 4/22/70, raising our fists and chanting “Off the Oil!” Well, it’s taking a while, but we may get there yet. At least I ain’t using any of the stuff (yeah, yeah I know. Those ferries, and the lube I carry).

Then on to the main event, Lake Itasca, source of the Father of Waters. This iconic place has loomed in my imagination almost as much as Finisterre (see my Camino blog in the menu above). I’ve been wanting to come here for decades. I always assumed it was a Native American name, but the Ojibwe called it Omushkos, for Elk Lake.

No, it was the patrician eastern-educated Henry Schoolcraft who named it, guided there by Ozawindib, he claimed “discovery” of the long-sought “true head” or veritas caput of the Mississippi, Itasca is a contraction of those two words. One of many faux-Indian names he invented.

So another story of the white man presuming to name a place the natives had known for centuries, but that snarky tale can’t diminish the wonder of it all. The lake is beautiful and pristine, and at the north end a little stream begins a tumble through some gentle stones, where I, along with hundreds of others today, easily waded or rock-hopped across the greatest river in North America. I tried to pull the typical tourist boneheaded move of FaceTiming the event to family and friends, but only Anne was picking up. Thank you, sweet sister.

It’s all too bloody picturesque to be real, and indeed it isn’t. Schoolcraft encountered a marshy beginning to the river, which the CCC drained and bulldozed to create this scene. Hey, I’ll take it. Ain’t that America.

Never could take a decent selfie, so a couple came to the rescue, Jerry and Donna Gross from Fargo.

Another in a series of remarkable coincidences, Donna grew up half a block from my grandmother Estela de Lima in Manhattan, and Jerry is a hematologist-oncologist who trained in Boston and knew many of my former colleagues. We found ourselves chatting excitedly for many minutes, even though we both had to get going. Too bad.

Pine Ridge Campground was full but well thought out and comfortable. I wasn’t done chatting, even after the sun went down. Adjacent campers Markus and Dora invited me for S’mores and a beer; he’s a computer engineer from Stuttgart now working for Cray Supercomputer (recently bought out by HPE), she is a veterinarian from Zagreb, Croatia, who is pursuing her PhD in molecular biology from U Minnesota Minneapolis. Their rescue dog Vegas was wary and protective, but ultimately charming, like his owners. I didn’t get to the showers until almost midnight.

Distance 38 miles, 2,540 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,029 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Deer River to Bemidji, Minnesota Friday, June 11, 2021

Bemidji. About as cute, mysterious, and exotic a name as I’ve yet encountered. Today was a simple matter of following the Mississippi upstream on US 2, my old friend. Smooth, flat, and wide, not much traffic, and a tailwind. There was not much to see, just the dense northern Minnesota woods, punctuated by a few outposts and lakeside resorts. I found one unanticipated downside of a tailwind, the bugs can keep up with you, and I was strafed constantly, but not bitten. One big fly got behind my sunglasses and caused a fuss, better not to wear them. Another case of going commando.

Back at the UVM campus, I remember scoffing at the students glued to their cell phones, talking constantly while walking. Now I could see the appeal. Might as well fill the time. Had lovely conversations with my sisters and my classmate Sharon, the veterinarian in San Diego. Talking with sister Anne recalled another deep discussion we’d had precisely 40 years ago, on 6/11/81, when I stayed with her on my bike trip from DC to Boston. Another time of transition, from student to doctor, leaving my hometown forever, and a 3 year relationship. Even then, I took to the bicycle to ease the passage. Within a month, I met my future wife.

Also en route, I was able to find a campsite on Lake Itasca for Saturday, there’d been a cancellation. That was a relief. I wasn’t relishing being homeless. Hopefully after this the pressure will ease, away from the weekend and the pipeliners.

I was so absorbed in these calls I barely noticed that the creek I was crossing was the Mississippi. Oh no! I’d passed from the eastern to the western half of the country while not paying attention! There’s a spot right at the source where you can rock hop across, I’d wanted that to be my first crossing. Oh well.

The wind shifted and my speed dropped from 13 to 7 mph, but I only had a few miles left. Mary Mitchell was my warmshowers host, an archeologist and anthropologist who ran the local food shelf. We walked down the Paul Bunyan bike trail to a great al fresco dinner overlooking Lake Bemidji. More great conversations, more great hospitality. As we walked, I was struck by how in tune she was with the local flora and fauna, identifying details and species in the plants that lined the bike path. Her garden, a model of sustainability, buzzed with hummingbirds, and we even saw a pileated woodpecker! My first, but old hat to her.

Distance 56 miles, 2,502 total. Time 7 hours with stops. Elevation gain 477 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Swan Lake to Deer River, Minnesota. Thursday, June 10, 2021

Today was low-key compared to yesterday‘s Easter egg fest. It started out with more great conversations with Tom and Karen, we have so many stories to share, but they are more disciplined than I am, and managed to depart quite early. I had some anxious moments trying to find campgrounds or lodging for today, the pipe liners are still a factor, and I was finding nothing. Finally I called a casino; they directed me to a motel not on Google maps, and I snagged a room. Jeez, and it’s not even the weekend! Likely to get worse, but I found a warmshowers in Bemidji for Friday night, my first in a month and a half.

Spent too much time futzing with yesterday’s blog, but what a story to tell. Finally left around 1:30, and it was simply a matter of completing the Mesabi trail, which ended in Grand Rapids. Here is the entrance gateway, I had been on the trail for a total of 75 miles, and by and large it is wonderful, an Easter egg in its own right.

My motel was just 15 miles further down the road, the road being my old friend US Highway 2, the same highway that runs close to my front door in Vermont. It was smooth, wide, good shoulder, not much traffic, perfect for listening to podcasts.

Just to my left was the Mississippi River, reportedly quite small here, close to its headwaters. However, I didn’t want to peek. Crossing the Mississippi is an important threshold in this journey, figuratively where you cross from east to west, and my plan is to go its source at Lake Itasca, then follow it downstream to Iowa. I really didn’t want to see the river until then. One more quirky ritual.

I had gotten the last room in this motel, and it was on the second floor, this time up 23 wooden steps. My sunglasses fell off during the struggle and through the stairway into the storeroom below, it took some time to locate them. However, I was happy to have a room. Warmshowers tomorrow, I might have to wind up “cowboy camping” on Lake Itasca on Saturday.

Distance 42 miles, 2,446 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 893 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria