What up people!
At some point last Friday, as I watched torrential downpour #14 from my Motel 6 hotel room in Grand Rapids MI, I decided that when the sun came out again, if the sun ever came out again (tomorrow? It's only a day away, right?) that I would take advantage of it and get back to riding.
I was feeling sullen, dragging a bit. The dreary rain was getting to me.
I love Motel 6 - where they left the light on for me once again - I love that! Their hotels are crap, the beds are lumpy, the pillows have a total of 17 feathers in them, the room does not have a clock, the shower does not have shampoo - but gosh darn it they play fun goofy music in the commercial and they leave the light on for you! What more could you want? The time? Time doesn't exist at Motel 6, it's like a casino.
That was last Friday. It's a good thing I sought shelter that day too because a tornado touched down about 30 miles east, right along the path I was going to take. That's the same day that Chicago had 80 mph winds and power outages and all-around rambunctious weather.
So Saturday morning I'm eating breakfast at a diner, and a group of 4 scruffy people walk in. They ask for an ashtray and the waitress tells them that smoking is not permitted until 3pm. (Not sure how they came up with that rule...?)
One of the guys in the group says 'I have 3 o'clock sharp on my watch!' - even though it wasn't even noon yet. They continue back and forth, pleading, begging, and eventually contemplating going elsewhere so that they could smoke in between bites of pancake. Smoke and a pancake?
Can't it wait until after your breakfast? Seriously. You really need to smoke while you eat?
I was so grossed out by this unconscionable display of lethargy that I decided to go the other way. To pedal far, to hit the open road and breathe deeply. To be in motion and remain in motion for as long as possible.
5 days and 562 miles later, I arrived in Rochester, NY.
On Monday I rode 162 miles, a successful experiment to see whether I could ride 150 in a day. Hightailing it across Ontario.
I stayed outside the train station in Durand, Michigan - it was the usual red tepee on the map but no sign of campgrounds in town. I ask in town and they say 'oh boy, let's see, there's one 3 miles that way and then 5 that way, or 10 miles that way' but of course it's already 7pm and I'm tired, not looking for a wild goose chase, so I shift into stealth camper mode. The train station seemed like the best option, had bathrooms, and it's in a small town so there couldn't be that many trains going by throughout the night... Right? WRONG! It was a veritable parade of trains, slow trains, fast trains, big trains, small trains - all with the common theme of loudness. I think I can I think I can... chug a lug - toot toot!
Earlier that evening I was passing through a town called Owasso. I met a smiley guy outside a gas station there, he was missing his front teeth but was very pleased to find out that I was going to Maine. I was sort of in a hurry so we didn't talk long.
Then, as I headed out of town, I met another guy. He was riding bikes with his young daughter. He pulls up next to me at a stop light and asks where I'm headed.
I explain.
He says 'that's neat'. He didn't have any front teeth either. They must have a good candy store in town. Or perhaps the lack of a good dentist.
In any case, this exchange felt different. I wanted to tell him that I thought what he was doing was neat. Delighting in the dwindling dusk with his daughter.
I was reminded of a famous passage in one of Thomas Merton's books. He was standing on a street corner in Louisville, Kentucky, looking around at all of the people going about their business, when it suddenly occurred to him that he loved all these people.
'That they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness.'
He said 'there is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.'
I wanted to tell this man that he was shining like the sun, with or without front teeth, but there was no way of doing so. It was a neat encounter. And then I slept on the concrete of the train station.
I didn't have much time to find computers along the way. I'm not even sure Canada has computers yet. Or schools, or people under the age of 47.
They have lots of corn fields, lots of power lines, and the entire province smells like poop.
Ontario, Canada - Yours to Discover!
And you'll also discover that they have a 14% tax rate. Nice! I kept buying items and then scratching my head when the total jumped way above the price. Gatorade -- $2.29 -- your grand total is $2.60. Hmmm, that's strange. What is the tax rate?
Oh, the tax rate is 14%. 7% for the province, and 7% for the county.
Perfect!
As for the smell - at first I thought 'wow, that's some strong manure they're using on the corn!' but then it became more and more pungent, to the point that I was gagging as I rode along the shores of Lake Erie. I couldn't figure out if it was the manure in the fields, or Lake Erie. I finally decided that it was the lake! It smelled exactly like a pig farm - more specifically like pig shit on a pig farm.
It was as if Porky the Pig had flown over the lake - yeah, when pigs fly! - and taken a dump the size of Rhode Island right in the middle. Then it lazily drifted ashore with the offensive odor wafting across the land.
It got me thinking - when we sprinkle manure - poop - on our fruits and vegetables, on our fields of corn and wheat and all that - doesn't this eventually work its way up through the roots, up the xylems and down the phloems and into the actual fruit or vegetable itself? It must, right? So we're eating poop? Not cool!
On Monday, whlie riding many miles, I started to become very hungry. Shaky starving.
I found a store and had a hot dog, and a hamburger. Spalding!
I had a hot dog, and a hamburger, and a candy bar, and a bag of sun chips, and a large apple crisp muffin, and a Dole Kiwi Strawberry drink, and another large blueberry muffin, and a water. Then I felt full.
Later, I found a fruit stand with peaches. I bought a quart of them. It cost a $2 coin. Canadian money isn't even real so really it was free!
The first bite of the peach was so fantasticly delicious that it made me question my order of favorite fruits. Kiwi used to top my list, but what about this peach? Or the juiciest naval orange you could find? And how could we forget watermelon?
I think we should have a playoff of fruits, get 100 people together and pit one fruit against the other in a Final Four of Fruits, have people vote for their favorite and see who wins.
On a super hot day, which fruit refreshes you the most? I could not decide, as I thought about it. I love them all so much.
Anyway, I gotta run. I have so much more I'd like to talk about, the demure Canadian flags flying, the money, the music, the fact that Lake Erie was the first familiar thing I've seen in a long time and it almost made me sad because the trip seems to be winding down. Only 3 more states to go. I think it's because I'm at home now, it feels like the denouement in this plot even though there are plenty more miles to pedal and many more rivers to cross.
I'll try and post some pictures later on, maybe tomorrow.
I spent last night at my older brother's place, playing with Jason my 8 month old nephew. What a beautiful creation he is. He is an endless source of smiles, both for you and for him.
Nick I'm calling your ass today - what is this accident all about? The Orbea is dead?!?
And Gold thank you for your fine lines of rap. I had to refer to my resident rap expert Mr. Michael M Bond for the interpretation and further background.
Apparently a rapper - I forget his name - had so much extra money that at a concert he pulled out a bunch of $100 bills and sprinkled them on the crowd. He made it rain on them good.
8.30.2007
8.23.2007
Grand Haven, Michigan
It was 2am last night, as opposed to 6am the night before, when the rains came. The rains don't just come, they bombard. The rain comes in on big bomber boots (as opposed to little cat feet) and bombards you with an onslaught so loud and fierce that it wakes the neighbors. Rat-a-tat-tat, swoosh, swirl. Ping, pang, thud. Just when you think the deluge couldn't possibly continue at such a torrid pace, it quickens. At a pace so frenetic that you think the sky may just fall afterall.
I slept on a boat the past two nights, in Grand Haven, Michigan. I figured the cops couldn't find me there. Now all I need is a pony.
The 75 mile ride from Ludington turned into a smooth 102, with various detours, closed roads, wrong turns, longer (but scenic!) lakeshore drives, and untravelable (that's a word, right? Right.) interstates. I rolled into Grand Haven at a quarter past 9, under cover of darkness.
There I met Jim and Shawn, and their son Matt. Actually Shawn had gone out to look for me, concerned that it was dark. So Jim offered me a beer and pizza. Mmmm, pizza. and beeeeer. As Homer would say - arrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmgh. The fact that the beer was Labatts made it even better - you don't find Labatts much out West.
I had almost stopped for food because I was absolutely starving (I've heard the term 'boinking' used by a fellow cyclist, which is apparently when your blood sugar becomes very low. I'll stick to starving, thanks.) -- but I knew I was racing the darkness, so I kept going.
Still starving, barely standing. Followed by back to back episodes of King of Queens and Yes Dear - it's CBS's all-star Monday night lineup!
We talked for awhile, it was great to finally meet face-to-face, we had been corresponding by e-mail for so long. It was late, and Jim, Shawn and Matt eventually headed back home - they live 40 miles away in Grand Rapids. I was tired after the ride so I just took a shower and went to bed. Bed was on their boat. I know very little about boats but I'd say it was a speedboat.
There are two types of boats in my book - speedboats and sailboats. This was a speedboat.
There is an area in the front of the boat where you can sleep. It is enclosed, with just a little trap-door for air. The ceiling - I suppose you'd call it that - is less than a foot from your face.
It's cozy. I had the trap-door open for air until the rains came, at which point I quickly closed it. Then a steady drip began from the seam of the trap door. I intercepted the drip with a strategically placed towel, draped over my sleeping bag where the drip was scheduled to appear.
Between the loud and steady pelting of the rain, the movement of the boat, the drips, the bleeps, the sweeps, and the creeps (Spaceballs, anyone?), the slightly uneasy feeling of floating on water -- what if the floor gives way and I sink to the bottom, or the rope comes undone and I float out to sea?!?!? -- the sticky humidity, and the concern that my poor bike (which was chained up to a lamp-post on the dock) was going to succumb to the rains and eventually drown, or be stolen - sleep was hard to come by.
Enter Ron and Bruce, stage right. I met Ron and Bruce after a fantastic pizza dinner last night that Jim and Shawn graciously treated me to. Their fishing boat was docked next to Jim and Shawn's boat. I talked with them for awhile, about fishing (fishing has been good recently because the East winds blew the warmer water over towards Wisconsin, so the fish had to come up closer to the surface to stay warm - or so i was told) and hunting (Ron had won a lottery for a coveted Elk hunting permit in Michigan, apparently the odds are 1 in 25,000 so he was very lucky. The only problem for him was that he won the lottery for Cow - female Elk - hunting. Within the first 30 minutes of hunting he saw a humongous Bull - male Elk - but couldn't shoot it because he only had a Cow permit. Poor Ron.) and shared stories of flooded campsites.
These affable characters eventually headed down to Tip-a-Fews bar, to tip a few back. I politely declined (I am learning!), it was already almost 11 and I was tired, wary of the impending and seemingly inevitable storms.
Well, I woke up at 3am to music, country music - Waaaay down yonder on the Chatahoochie! What the hell? Is that music? In the pouring rain? Ron? Bruce? What in sam hell are you doing? It was pouring rain so I didn't bother to go see what all the hubbab was about. I just laid there and decided that Ron and Bruce had tipped way more than a few back, continuing the party well into the night.
Now that I think about it, I had asked them what time they were headed out in the morning - assumingly it was super early as fisherman do - and they said 'well, it depends how drunk we get tonight!' -- ok then! That explains it. That also explains how when I left around 7:30am this morning, there was absolutely no movement or signs of life from their boat. Excellent Smithers.
Anyway, my time in Grand Haven has been wonderful. It's a fun little lakeshore town on the shores of Lake Michigan, I spent yesterday in coffee shops and sidewalk cafes, found a $3 movie theatre and then the beach and boardwalk. I took a quick dip in Lake Michigan, but the water was cold enough that laying on a beach towel with toes wiggled in the sand absorbing warm sun sounded better. If only I had my iPod, to complete the loveliness... boo hoo :( It warmed up to be a great and sunny day yesterday, in between onslaughts of rain. We took the boat out last night and zipped around Lake Michigan. Speedboats are good, speedboats are goooood!
Jim had a work friend in town from China, so he accompanied us last night as well. He's in the USA working for six months, and was comparing life in the US to life in China. Very interesting. Over dinner we were talking about the ongoing enmity between China and Japan.
Long story short - they do not like each other at all. In fact, Kurt - Jim's friend - goes so far as to not by Japanese products whenever possible. Which explains his Kodak camera.
10 points for Rochester, NY!
One time his wife bought him a Casio watch, which he promptly threw in the garbage. He actually threw it away! I can't imagine disliking a nation that much that I'd throw away a gift from my wife because it was manufactured there. But then again, I'm just an innocent white-boy who has never really been exposed to true suffering, or torture, or any of the various historical and ongoing atrocities committed against the human race. I know they exist, but cannot possibly imagine the horror. Human beings have been so cruel and unusually harsh to each other for so long... why is that? Is it good versus evil, or is it more complex than that? Seems like it's some combination of King of the Mountain and Lord of the Flies, where the desire to conquer and be #1 meets the degradation of civility into outright savagery. Scary. Sucks to your ass-mar Piggie-
Anyway, on a completely unrelated note - Starbucks, those blasted corporate symbols of all that is soulless and wrong -- a la Bill Lumberg! -- have subtilely infiltrated the mom and pop coffee shops. They are insidious. Their continuous question of the day - 'room for cream?' has become a mainstay even in the coolest of independent coffee shops.
I think the question 'room for cream?' was some big-wig brainstorm in a boardroom at Starbucks headquarters, who did the math and figured out that if they only fill the cups 3/4 full, that they'd save millions of dollars annually in coffee costs, under the guise of friendliness and customer service -- hey, I'm doing YOU a favor by leaving you room for cream so your cup doesn't runneth over! Rrrrright.
I'm onto them, and shame on all other coffee shops for asking this question.
Just fill it 7/8 full and we'll take it from there.
Do I want Dark Roast, Light Roast, Colombian Blend, Hazelnut, Decaf, Fantastic French, Triple Toe Loop Tahitian? Perhaps a flavor squirt of Pugnacious Purple or Outrageous Orange?
No man, I just want coffee. Regular old coffee. Do you have that?
And, these paper cups that they're filling 3/4 full - they all have leaky seams that nobody seems (seams, seems - english is tough) to care about. It's either a design flaw or manufacturing defect, but aren't seams supposed to act as though they're seamless, meaning liquid cannot get through? I guess not. My experience has been that the coffee leaks out the very top of the cup where the seam is, when the cup is tipped the wrong way and filled too high. Can't the paper cup engineers figure that one out? Or perhaps it's Solo that has their state-of-the-art tops wrong? Enquiring minds wanna know. All I know is that I end up with drips of coffee down my hand and onto my pants and I'd rather not.
Ok, focus people focus! Sorry. I want to thank Jim and Shawn for being the coolest people this side of the Mississippi. Shawn printed out maps and directions for me across the entire state of Michigan, taking me along cycler-friendly roads and to scenic destinations. I'm headed to Grand Rapids today, and then north of Lansing tomorrow.
Hear's a gem I learned from the gas station attendant the other day:
Did you know that the name Jason is an abbreviation for July, August, September, October, November? Just in case you forget the order of the months. Hmm, I didn't know that!
My nephew is named Jason so I'm sure he'll find that very useful as he learns the months. I suppose he'll need to learn his ABC's first, and how to walk, and all that.
I should've asked if she had any tips on that. I'm afraid to ask.
I slept on a boat the past two nights, in Grand Haven, Michigan. I figured the cops couldn't find me there. Now all I need is a pony.
The 75 mile ride from Ludington turned into a smooth 102, with various detours, closed roads, wrong turns, longer (but scenic!) lakeshore drives, and untravelable (that's a word, right? Right.) interstates. I rolled into Grand Haven at a quarter past 9, under cover of darkness.
There I met Jim and Shawn, and their son Matt. Actually Shawn had gone out to look for me, concerned that it was dark. So Jim offered me a beer and pizza. Mmmm, pizza. and beeeeer. As Homer would say - arrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmgh. The fact that the beer was Labatts made it even better - you don't find Labatts much out West.
I had almost stopped for food because I was absolutely starving (I've heard the term 'boinking' used by a fellow cyclist, which is apparently when your blood sugar becomes very low. I'll stick to starving, thanks.) -- but I knew I was racing the darkness, so I kept going.
Still starving, barely standing. Followed by back to back episodes of King of Queens and Yes Dear - it's CBS's all-star Monday night lineup!
We talked for awhile, it was great to finally meet face-to-face, we had been corresponding by e-mail for so long. It was late, and Jim, Shawn and Matt eventually headed back home - they live 40 miles away in Grand Rapids. I was tired after the ride so I just took a shower and went to bed. Bed was on their boat. I know very little about boats but I'd say it was a speedboat.
There are two types of boats in my book - speedboats and sailboats. This was a speedboat.
There is an area in the front of the boat where you can sleep. It is enclosed, with just a little trap-door for air. The ceiling - I suppose you'd call it that - is less than a foot from your face.
It's cozy. I had the trap-door open for air until the rains came, at which point I quickly closed it. Then a steady drip began from the seam of the trap door. I intercepted the drip with a strategically placed towel, draped over my sleeping bag where the drip was scheduled to appear.
Between the loud and steady pelting of the rain, the movement of the boat, the drips, the bleeps, the sweeps, and the creeps (Spaceballs, anyone?), the slightly uneasy feeling of floating on water -- what if the floor gives way and I sink to the bottom, or the rope comes undone and I float out to sea?!?!? -- the sticky humidity, and the concern that my poor bike (which was chained up to a lamp-post on the dock) was going to succumb to the rains and eventually drown, or be stolen - sleep was hard to come by.
Enter Ron and Bruce, stage right. I met Ron and Bruce after a fantastic pizza dinner last night that Jim and Shawn graciously treated me to. Their fishing boat was docked next to Jim and Shawn's boat. I talked with them for awhile, about fishing (fishing has been good recently because the East winds blew the warmer water over towards Wisconsin, so the fish had to come up closer to the surface to stay warm - or so i was told) and hunting (Ron had won a lottery for a coveted Elk hunting permit in Michigan, apparently the odds are 1 in 25,000 so he was very lucky. The only problem for him was that he won the lottery for Cow - female Elk - hunting. Within the first 30 minutes of hunting he saw a humongous Bull - male Elk - but couldn't shoot it because he only had a Cow permit. Poor Ron.) and shared stories of flooded campsites.
These affable characters eventually headed down to Tip-a-Fews bar, to tip a few back. I politely declined (I am learning!), it was already almost 11 and I was tired, wary of the impending and seemingly inevitable storms.
Well, I woke up at 3am to music, country music - Waaaay down yonder on the Chatahoochie! What the hell? Is that music? In the pouring rain? Ron? Bruce? What in sam hell are you doing? It was pouring rain so I didn't bother to go see what all the hubbab was about. I just laid there and decided that Ron and Bruce had tipped way more than a few back, continuing the party well into the night.
Now that I think about it, I had asked them what time they were headed out in the morning - assumingly it was super early as fisherman do - and they said 'well, it depends how drunk we get tonight!' -- ok then! That explains it. That also explains how when I left around 7:30am this morning, there was absolutely no movement or signs of life from their boat. Excellent Smithers.
Anyway, my time in Grand Haven has been wonderful. It's a fun little lakeshore town on the shores of Lake Michigan, I spent yesterday in coffee shops and sidewalk cafes, found a $3 movie theatre and then the beach and boardwalk. I took a quick dip in Lake Michigan, but the water was cold enough that laying on a beach towel with toes wiggled in the sand absorbing warm sun sounded better. If only I had my iPod, to complete the loveliness... boo hoo :( It warmed up to be a great and sunny day yesterday, in between onslaughts of rain. We took the boat out last night and zipped around Lake Michigan. Speedboats are good, speedboats are goooood!
Jim had a work friend in town from China, so he accompanied us last night as well. He's in the USA working for six months, and was comparing life in the US to life in China. Very interesting. Over dinner we were talking about the ongoing enmity between China and Japan.
Long story short - they do not like each other at all. In fact, Kurt - Jim's friend - goes so far as to not by Japanese products whenever possible. Which explains his Kodak camera.
10 points for Rochester, NY!
One time his wife bought him a Casio watch, which he promptly threw in the garbage. He actually threw it away! I can't imagine disliking a nation that much that I'd throw away a gift from my wife because it was manufactured there. But then again, I'm just an innocent white-boy who has never really been exposed to true suffering, or torture, or any of the various historical and ongoing atrocities committed against the human race. I know they exist, but cannot possibly imagine the horror. Human beings have been so cruel and unusually harsh to each other for so long... why is that? Is it good versus evil, or is it more complex than that? Seems like it's some combination of King of the Mountain and Lord of the Flies, where the desire to conquer and be #1 meets the degradation of civility into outright savagery. Scary. Sucks to your ass-mar Piggie-
Anyway, on a completely unrelated note - Starbucks, those blasted corporate symbols of all that is soulless and wrong -- a la Bill Lumberg! -- have subtilely infiltrated the mom and pop coffee shops. They are insidious. Their continuous question of the day - 'room for cream?' has become a mainstay even in the coolest of independent coffee shops.
I think the question 'room for cream?' was some big-wig brainstorm in a boardroom at Starbucks headquarters, who did the math and figured out that if they only fill the cups 3/4 full, that they'd save millions of dollars annually in coffee costs, under the guise of friendliness and customer service -- hey, I'm doing YOU a favor by leaving you room for cream so your cup doesn't runneth over! Rrrrright.
I'm onto them, and shame on all other coffee shops for asking this question.
Just fill it 7/8 full and we'll take it from there.
Do I want Dark Roast, Light Roast, Colombian Blend, Hazelnut, Decaf, Fantastic French, Triple Toe Loop Tahitian? Perhaps a flavor squirt of Pugnacious Purple or Outrageous Orange?
No man, I just want coffee. Regular old coffee. Do you have that?
And, these paper cups that they're filling 3/4 full - they all have leaky seams that nobody seems (seams, seems - english is tough) to care about. It's either a design flaw or manufacturing defect, but aren't seams supposed to act as though they're seamless, meaning liquid cannot get through? I guess not. My experience has been that the coffee leaks out the very top of the cup where the seam is, when the cup is tipped the wrong way and filled too high. Can't the paper cup engineers figure that one out? Or perhaps it's Solo that has their state-of-the-art tops wrong? Enquiring minds wanna know. All I know is that I end up with drips of coffee down my hand and onto my pants and I'd rather not.
Ok, focus people focus! Sorry. I want to thank Jim and Shawn for being the coolest people this side of the Mississippi. Shawn printed out maps and directions for me across the entire state of Michigan, taking me along cycler-friendly roads and to scenic destinations. I'm headed to Grand Rapids today, and then north of Lansing tomorrow.
Hear's a gem I learned from the gas station attendant the other day:
Did you know that the name Jason is an abbreviation for July, August, September, October, November? Just in case you forget the order of the months. Hmm, I didn't know that!
My nephew is named Jason so I'm sure he'll find that very useful as he learns the months. I suppose he'll need to learn his ABC's first, and how to walk, and all that.
I should've asked if she had any tips on that. I'm afraid to ask.
8.21.2007
Ludington, Michigan
I'm in Ludington, Michigan, heading 75 miles south to Grand Haven today. To meet my new good friends Shawn and Jim. They are fellow cyclists that found my journal online and have been beyond helpful with directions and maps and offers of hospitality. They live in Grand Rapids but are vacationing at Grand Haven and offered for me to join them. So I will!
So much to say. It's hard to rewind 3 days and capture all the occurrences, but as Ben Stein says 'I shall do my best.'
In college, there used to be a term 'breaking the seal'. We would occasionally consume more than 1 beer - I know, crazy! - and the idea was to not go to the bathroom for as long as possible, because once you did, and 'broke the seal', then you'd have to go every 10 minutes. I don't know who thought this up, I'm just the messenger. Dinah Minks from Bena, MN would not have approved of this policy, as she likes to piss on everything. What the piss.
Well, the police encounter seal has been broken!
And Dennis, you crack me up. I should've used that line.
So, after camping on the courthouse lawn, I rode 100 miles down to Shawano. An absolutely gorgeous day. I got into Shawano about 7pm, and on my handy-dandy AAA map it had a red tepee next to Shawano, meaning there was a campground there.
Well, I'll be damned if I could find it! I looked, I stopped by the police station to ask but they were closed, the gas station didn't know, so I went into a bar and had a quick beer. That's always the solution. I asked the bartender - well, this was after I ordered a beer, an Old Style beer - I had kept seeing signs for Old Style so I figured I should try it - so I said 'could I have an Old Style, a pint?'
The bartender quickly corrects me - 'it's a Mug' he says.
Fine, mug. Put it in a shoe for all I care mister. So I ask him about the campground and he says 'well, there's a few campgrounds out by the lake' -
How far is the lake?
'Oh, about 4 or 5 miles that way' as he absently points toward the window.
My options at that point, at 7:30pm, with an hour of light left, were to travel 4 or 5 miles 'that way', or find a place in town. Given that the bartender looked and talked like Joe Dirt - no offense to Joe Dirt of course! - I was a little leery of his directions, or that there was even a lake at all!
And I was already eyeballing this nice plot of land by the river, just outside of town, complete with bathroom facilities - but was hesitant after my previous encounter with John Law. It was already 8pm though, so I opted for camping by the river. I always wait until after dark to pop the tent up. I made some noodles, enjoyed the twilight by the river. Long story short - I awoke to my own little light show at 3:15am. Lights blaring - 'Sheriffs Department' - I hear. Great. Reminded me of an evening at Dan Smith's house.
Yes, sheriff? I say blearily looking up through the mesh of my tent to see two policecops hulking over the tent. We go through the usual - you're not supposed to camp here - where ya headed - really?!?! - that's amazing - where'd you start - when'd you leave - yada yada yada. You got ID? Yes. All clean - well, good luck to you! Thank you. Super friendly cops.
And, as if you could hold back the flood, all things happen in 3s and the seal has been broken! Yesterday, on my way out of Green Bay (I bagged the tour of scenic Door County, since the scenery becomes less scenic in cold, spitting rain. Plus, the forecast called for winds of E 20-30. Traveling S with E 20-30 is not ideal. I've fought E 20-30 once before and decided against fighting again. You win E20-30!) I was following Route 141 South, trying to get to Manitowoc to catch the 1:15pm ferry. As luck would have it - I run into the 'Road Closed Ahead' sign and detour signs all over. I follow the detour, oh boy - it takes me onto Interstate 43! Where the big boys drive. I didn't have any other options and was running out of time, so Interstate 43 it was. I laughed as I circled around the entrance ramp. Vroom-vroom! It felt very strange to be circling the entrance ramp on a bike. I rode about 5 miles on the interstate before getting off to follow the detour. Bicycles are prohibited, but actually the Interstate was much much safer than 90% of the roads I've ridden on. The shoulders are 10 feet wide!
Anyway, I exited and then found County Route R, which, in looking at my map, would also get me to Manitowoc. So as I'm traveling down good ol' road R, I hear wooop, woooop. I look back, and wouldn't you know it - it's my good friends the police!
Howdy sir, we just got a few calls about a biker on the interstate and wanted to make sure you were ok. (Just as a side - who are these people calling the police about a biker on the interstate? They must be bored. Are they really concerned about my safety? Making sure I'm safe? I should call the police and say that I saw someone driving 85 in a 65 on Interstate 43 and just wanted to make sure they were safe.)
Yes, I'm fine, I was trying to travel on 141 South but the detour took me onto the Interstate and I am rushing to get to Manitowoc by 1:15pm. Yada, yada, yada - the cops love me. Maine? Really? You're a better man than I! Good luck!
So, the police encounter seal has been broken. It is so refreshing to talk to police without being in trouble! A whole new world.
The Packers game was incredible, I don't have time to describe it all, but it was an experience of a lifetime. Plus, my friend I was staying with had 2 free tickets (well, he works for Sodexho so we had to go to a food/bakery show to earn the tickets, and I had to pose as Gary Vail - executive chef of the University of Wisconsin - Green Bay - nice! Really all we did was eat a few cupcakes and smile) and they also had a free tailgate before the game, with your choice of - you guessed it! Bud Light or Miller Lite. And brats. Lots and lots of brats. Remember that commercial? Johnny's cooking Johnsonville Brats! echo, echo. My lord, no wonder all these people are 400 pounds, they eat like horses! There is most definitely an obesity problem in this country, my independent research has confirmed it.
Oh boy, time's up. To the rain I go...
So much to say. It's hard to rewind 3 days and capture all the occurrences, but as Ben Stein says 'I shall do my best.'
In college, there used to be a term 'breaking the seal'. We would occasionally consume more than 1 beer - I know, crazy! - and the idea was to not go to the bathroom for as long as possible, because once you did, and 'broke the seal', then you'd have to go every 10 minutes. I don't know who thought this up, I'm just the messenger. Dinah Minks from Bena, MN would not have approved of this policy, as she likes to piss on everything. What the piss.
Well, the police encounter seal has been broken!
And Dennis, you crack me up. I should've used that line.
So, after camping on the courthouse lawn, I rode 100 miles down to Shawano. An absolutely gorgeous day. I got into Shawano about 7pm, and on my handy-dandy AAA map it had a red tepee next to Shawano, meaning there was a campground there.
Well, I'll be damned if I could find it! I looked, I stopped by the police station to ask but they were closed, the gas station didn't know, so I went into a bar and had a quick beer. That's always the solution. I asked the bartender - well, this was after I ordered a beer, an Old Style beer - I had kept seeing signs for Old Style so I figured I should try it - so I said 'could I have an Old Style, a pint?'
The bartender quickly corrects me - 'it's a Mug' he says.
Fine, mug. Put it in a shoe for all I care mister. So I ask him about the campground and he says 'well, there's a few campgrounds out by the lake' -
How far is the lake?
'Oh, about 4 or 5 miles that way' as he absently points toward the window.
My options at that point, at 7:30pm, with an hour of light left, were to travel 4 or 5 miles 'that way', or find a place in town. Given that the bartender looked and talked like Joe Dirt - no offense to Joe Dirt of course! - I was a little leery of his directions, or that there was even a lake at all!
And I was already eyeballing this nice plot of land by the river, just outside of town, complete with bathroom facilities - but was hesitant after my previous encounter with John Law. It was already 8pm though, so I opted for camping by the river. I always wait until after dark to pop the tent up. I made some noodles, enjoyed the twilight by the river. Long story short - I awoke to my own little light show at 3:15am. Lights blaring - 'Sheriffs Department' - I hear. Great. Reminded me of an evening at Dan Smith's house.
Yes, sheriff? I say blearily looking up through the mesh of my tent to see two policecops hulking over the tent. We go through the usual - you're not supposed to camp here - where ya headed - really?!?! - that's amazing - where'd you start - when'd you leave - yada yada yada. You got ID? Yes. All clean - well, good luck to you! Thank you. Super friendly cops.
And, as if you could hold back the flood, all things happen in 3s and the seal has been broken! Yesterday, on my way out of Green Bay (I bagged the tour of scenic Door County, since the scenery becomes less scenic in cold, spitting rain. Plus, the forecast called for winds of E 20-30. Traveling S with E 20-30 is not ideal. I've fought E 20-30 once before and decided against fighting again. You win E20-30!) I was following Route 141 South, trying to get to Manitowoc to catch the 1:15pm ferry. As luck would have it - I run into the 'Road Closed Ahead' sign and detour signs all over. I follow the detour, oh boy - it takes me onto Interstate 43! Where the big boys drive. I didn't have any other options and was running out of time, so Interstate 43 it was. I laughed as I circled around the entrance ramp. Vroom-vroom! It felt very strange to be circling the entrance ramp on a bike. I rode about 5 miles on the interstate before getting off to follow the detour. Bicycles are prohibited, but actually the Interstate was much much safer than 90% of the roads I've ridden on. The shoulders are 10 feet wide!
Anyway, I exited and then found County Route R, which, in looking at my map, would also get me to Manitowoc. So as I'm traveling down good ol' road R, I hear wooop, woooop. I look back, and wouldn't you know it - it's my good friends the police!
Howdy sir, we just got a few calls about a biker on the interstate and wanted to make sure you were ok. (Just as a side - who are these people calling the police about a biker on the interstate? They must be bored. Are they really concerned about my safety? Making sure I'm safe? I should call the police and say that I saw someone driving 85 in a 65 on Interstate 43 and just wanted to make sure they were safe.)
Yes, I'm fine, I was trying to travel on 141 South but the detour took me onto the Interstate and I am rushing to get to Manitowoc by 1:15pm. Yada, yada, yada - the cops love me. Maine? Really? You're a better man than I! Good luck!
So, the police encounter seal has been broken. It is so refreshing to talk to police without being in trouble! A whole new world.
The Packers game was incredible, I don't have time to describe it all, but it was an experience of a lifetime. Plus, my friend I was staying with had 2 free tickets (well, he works for Sodexho so we had to go to a food/bakery show to earn the tickets, and I had to pose as Gary Vail - executive chef of the University of Wisconsin - Green Bay - nice! Really all we did was eat a few cupcakes and smile) and they also had a free tailgate before the game, with your choice of - you guessed it! Bud Light or Miller Lite. And brats. Lots and lots of brats. Remember that commercial? Johnny's cooking Johnsonville Brats! echo, echo. My lord, no wonder all these people are 400 pounds, they eat like horses! There is most definitely an obesity problem in this country, my independent research has confirmed it.
Oh boy, time's up. To the rain I go...
8.20.2007
Rain Dance
Ummm, whoever did the rain dance - could you possibly undo it? I know you're supposed to dance like no one's watching, but apparently the Rain God saw you - and interpreted your dance to mean you wanted it to rain for 5 days straight. So, however you did it - can you please undo??? Take a recording of the dance and play it backwards. Hit Control-Z on your keyboard - anything!
8.16.2007
Wandering around Wisconsin
On the way out of Hurley, I met some kick-ass people at the Hurley Coffee Company. Deb teaches a class in Native American studies, and a few Education courses. We had a great conversation, talking about travel and adventure, and the myriad injustices inflicted upon the Native American people. She has some adventurous offspring, scattered amongst America's parks and areas of beauty. In fact, it was her son's birthday and his birthday celebration involved riding to the top of a mountain in Colorado. I like his style.
Up on the mountain.
Then we got out the maps and she recommended roads. This is always helpful.
Then Kirsten joined in, she is going to teach a Nursing course at the school. And is taking guitar lessons, which makes her instantly cool.
And then Paul arrived, Paul is an amazing artist who had many paintings hanging on the coffee shop walls. He teaches an Art course at the college. I hung out there for hours, enjoying people who know how to enjoy life. Paul was trying to convince Kirsten to model for him, that was an enjoyable exchange. Paul's motto is 'breathe, and paint' - I love it. He said you can substitute things for paint, such as strum the guitar, or pedal the bike. He enjoys Bob Dylan as well, said that his music is great for painting.
Anyway, hello to you guys and thanks for a magnificent morning.
I made it to Woodruff, actually the town just past Woodruff - Minocqua. There I found a very nice park (that had showers! --that is always a pleasant surprise) where I set up shop, away from the road. It was a very nice park, nice facilities, and a quaint town, but nonetheless I locked the bike to a wooden post, just in case, and went next door for dinner.
Upon returning, about an hour later, I noticed that things seemed different. Disheveled. Then I noticed that the loaf of bread that I had bungeed to the back was gone. And the unopened bottle of Gatorade was now opened and half gone, with the top missing.
It was looking like a good old fashioned robbery! My mind started racing - what all did I have? Wallet, camera, phone - those were all with me. On my person as they say. I've learned to keep valuables with me. Away from robbers and most importantly - water.
All that was in the panniers were bike things, camping things, and clothes. I went through the panniers, noticing that my box of Pop Tarts was gone. Other than that, everything seemed accounted for.
I was confused, relieved I suppose. I should've been angrier about a vagrant rummaging through my things, but I couldn't help thinking what a nice burgler he'd been. He left me half my Gatorade - in case I got thirsty??? Why didn't he take the rest, wouldn't he need something to wash the bread and Pop Tarts down? I didn't understand that one.
He didn't take anything except food and liquid, which leads me to believe that he was hungry and thirsty. So many people have fed my hunger and quenched my thirst along the way, that maybe it was my turn? I suppose he should've asked first, or I should've offered. That's how it normally works. I know I should've been more upset about it, but honestly I wasn't.
The next morning I left my phone behind, charging in one of the park's outlets. I went back to retrieve it, and it wasn't there. I went down to the lifeguard station - the park was on a lake and they have a beach and swimming area. Hence the lifeguards. Luckily they had found it, or their boss had found it - and jumped into detective mode!
Finding the 'Dad' entry and calling my dad. I'm sure my dad was a bit flummoxed by the random call. I felt like this may have been a little premature - at least give it a few hours to see if someone comes back for it? Oh well, I can't be upset at someone who's only trying to help.
So we talked, the standard 'wait a minute, MAINE? On a bike? Are you nuts?'
Then I ended up hanging with the lifeguards for awhile.
Amy, Sarah, and I just realized I didn't learn the third one's name. But we sat around in the grass talking, they were doing some serious goofing off on the job, it was great. I guess their boss drives by occasionally, and was probably aghast to find the three of them laying in the grass, shooting the breeze. Ha. The boss drives a red truck, and at one point they spotted the truck and sprung into action! Good clean fun.
Eventually I left, heading for the next town. I stopped at a gas station for lunch - nothing like having lunch at the gas station! I tracked down a turkey sandwich and a bowl of chili. I had just paid for the chili and was rushing to get out of the way so the person behind me could pay. I had a wallet and change and a Pepsi in one hand, and a turkey sandwich in the other. I went to pick up the styrofoam bowl of chili, and within 1.1milliseconds wouldn't you know the styrofoam breaks and the chili dumps! Into a box of Mounds candybars. Rrrrrright. Luckily it was hearty chili so the leak was limited to just a few bars. I glopped all the chili I could back into the bowl then started cleaning up. Polishing off the Mounds bars. 'Don't worry it happens all the time. I've had people spill 12 packs of soda on the floor, barf all over the bathroom, this is nothing.'
She was kind.
Then - I was eating my chili and sandwich outside, when a guy getting into his truck (with 3 freshly purchased packs of cigarettes) asks where i'm headed.
Maine, I say.
God Bless You, he says.
Oh, well thanks! He must've thought I sneezed, maybe.
So we talk, the usual, what route are you taking, then he asks --
'You got a gun?'
He was serious.
'No, I don't', I say -- trying to hide my incredulity.
'You should', he says. 'Lot of crazies out there.'
Rrrrright. I have Peanut Butter and Jelly, and a sleeping bag, and a loaf of bread, and some water, and a toothbrush, and some tuna, and some socks, and, and, a 357 magnum!
Then we talk about Michigan, he says 'whatever you do, avoid Detroit. It's all black.'
I knew what he meant, but felt like saying 'you mean they have a smog problem, or it's a lot of pavement, or a lot of the buildings are painted black, like the Rolling Stones?' -- but instead I just nod and say ok.
Honestly, he must've reiterated this point at least 5 times. 'It's all black' he kept saying and pointing on the map.
I am apparently supposed to share the same prejudices as him, I guess, and understand what he's implying by saying 'it's all black'. 'Flint, Lansing, Detroit--they're all black.'
Ok dude, I get it!
Finally, I just say 'I promise, I will avoid Detroit.'
Anyway, I'm now in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. I camped on the front lawn of the courthouse last night. It was a beautiful and spacious lawn, complete with a hedgerow to hide behind and an acorn tree to lean my bike against. Obviously, you're probably not supposed to camp there, I always try and make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
Wellll, this morning the local gean-darme policecop made a guest appearance.
He said 'so, doing a little camping here?' - yes, detective. Yessir, I am. I am camping up a storm.
Your robe, your honor!
He asked for some ID, reminding me that camping on the front lawn of the courthouse is not permitted.
'Yes, I know sir, it was late and I couldn't find a campground and this seemed to be my only option.'
He was trying to remain serious, but couldn't help asking all the usual questions. Where ya headed, from where? Really?
Then he 'ran a check' on me, looking for outstanding warrants I assume? I'm an outlaw! Andy the Kidd.
Finally, he said good luck and left. Gooooood morning Rhinelander!
So I'm off to Shawano today. About 100 miles. That'll put me within 40 miles of Green Bay. I talked to a college friend who lives just south of Green Bay, and he happens to have an extra ticket for Saturday's game. Perfect! So I'll spend Friday and Saturday in Green Bay, go to the Packers-Seahawks game Saturday night, and loop up into Door County on Sunday.
That's the plan Stan. You don't need to be coy Roy. Hop on the bus Gus - don't need to discuss muuuch! Just drop off the key Lee - and get yourself free.
Up on the mountain.
Then we got out the maps and she recommended roads. This is always helpful.
Then Kirsten joined in, she is going to teach a Nursing course at the school. And is taking guitar lessons, which makes her instantly cool.
And then Paul arrived, Paul is an amazing artist who had many paintings hanging on the coffee shop walls. He teaches an Art course at the college. I hung out there for hours, enjoying people who know how to enjoy life. Paul was trying to convince Kirsten to model for him, that was an enjoyable exchange. Paul's motto is 'breathe, and paint' - I love it. He said you can substitute things for paint, such as strum the guitar, or pedal the bike. He enjoys Bob Dylan as well, said that his music is great for painting.
Anyway, hello to you guys and thanks for a magnificent morning.
I made it to Woodruff, actually the town just past Woodruff - Minocqua. There I found a very nice park (that had showers! --that is always a pleasant surprise) where I set up shop, away from the road. It was a very nice park, nice facilities, and a quaint town, but nonetheless I locked the bike to a wooden post, just in case, and went next door for dinner.
Upon returning, about an hour later, I noticed that things seemed different. Disheveled. Then I noticed that the loaf of bread that I had bungeed to the back was gone. And the unopened bottle of Gatorade was now opened and half gone, with the top missing.
It was looking like a good old fashioned robbery! My mind started racing - what all did I have? Wallet, camera, phone - those were all with me. On my person as they say. I've learned to keep valuables with me. Away from robbers and most importantly - water.
All that was in the panniers were bike things, camping things, and clothes. I went through the panniers, noticing that my box of Pop Tarts was gone. Other than that, everything seemed accounted for.
I was confused, relieved I suppose. I should've been angrier about a vagrant rummaging through my things, but I couldn't help thinking what a nice burgler he'd been. He left me half my Gatorade - in case I got thirsty??? Why didn't he take the rest, wouldn't he need something to wash the bread and Pop Tarts down? I didn't understand that one.
He didn't take anything except food and liquid, which leads me to believe that he was hungry and thirsty. So many people have fed my hunger and quenched my thirst along the way, that maybe it was my turn? I suppose he should've asked first, or I should've offered. That's how it normally works. I know I should've been more upset about it, but honestly I wasn't.
The next morning I left my phone behind, charging in one of the park's outlets. I went back to retrieve it, and it wasn't there. I went down to the lifeguard station - the park was on a lake and they have a beach and swimming area. Hence the lifeguards. Luckily they had found it, or their boss had found it - and jumped into detective mode!
Finding the 'Dad' entry and calling my dad. I'm sure my dad was a bit flummoxed by the random call. I felt like this may have been a little premature - at least give it a few hours to see if someone comes back for it? Oh well, I can't be upset at someone who's only trying to help.
So we talked, the standard 'wait a minute, MAINE? On a bike? Are you nuts?'
Then I ended up hanging with the lifeguards for awhile.
Amy, Sarah, and I just realized I didn't learn the third one's name. But we sat around in the grass talking, they were doing some serious goofing off on the job, it was great. I guess their boss drives by occasionally, and was probably aghast to find the three of them laying in the grass, shooting the breeze. Ha. The boss drives a red truck, and at one point they spotted the truck and sprung into action! Good clean fun.
Eventually I left, heading for the next town. I stopped at a gas station for lunch - nothing like having lunch at the gas station! I tracked down a turkey sandwich and a bowl of chili. I had just paid for the chili and was rushing to get out of the way so the person behind me could pay. I had a wallet and change and a Pepsi in one hand, and a turkey sandwich in the other. I went to pick up the styrofoam bowl of chili, and within 1.1milliseconds wouldn't you know the styrofoam breaks and the chili dumps! Into a box of Mounds candybars. Rrrrrright. Luckily it was hearty chili so the leak was limited to just a few bars. I glopped all the chili I could back into the bowl then started cleaning up. Polishing off the Mounds bars. 'Don't worry it happens all the time. I've had people spill 12 packs of soda on the floor, barf all over the bathroom, this is nothing.'
She was kind.
Then - I was eating my chili and sandwich outside, when a guy getting into his truck (with 3 freshly purchased packs of cigarettes) asks where i'm headed.
Maine, I say.
God Bless You, he says.
Oh, well thanks! He must've thought I sneezed, maybe.
So we talk, the usual, what route are you taking, then he asks --
'You got a gun?'
He was serious.
'No, I don't', I say -- trying to hide my incredulity.
'You should', he says. 'Lot of crazies out there.'
Rrrrright. I have Peanut Butter and Jelly, and a sleeping bag, and a loaf of bread, and some water, and a toothbrush, and some tuna, and some socks, and, and, a 357 magnum!
Then we talk about Michigan, he says 'whatever you do, avoid Detroit. It's all black.'
I knew what he meant, but felt like saying 'you mean they have a smog problem, or it's a lot of pavement, or a lot of the buildings are painted black, like the Rolling Stones?' -- but instead I just nod and say ok.
Honestly, he must've reiterated this point at least 5 times. 'It's all black' he kept saying and pointing on the map.
I am apparently supposed to share the same prejudices as him, I guess, and understand what he's implying by saying 'it's all black'. 'Flint, Lansing, Detroit--they're all black.'
Ok dude, I get it!
Finally, I just say 'I promise, I will avoid Detroit.'
Anyway, I'm now in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. I camped on the front lawn of the courthouse last night. It was a beautiful and spacious lawn, complete with a hedgerow to hide behind and an acorn tree to lean my bike against. Obviously, you're probably not supposed to camp there, I always try and make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
Wellll, this morning the local gean-darme policecop made a guest appearance.
He said 'so, doing a little camping here?' - yes, detective. Yessir, I am. I am camping up a storm.
Your robe, your honor!
He asked for some ID, reminding me that camping on the front lawn of the courthouse is not permitted.
'Yes, I know sir, it was late and I couldn't find a campground and this seemed to be my only option.'
He was trying to remain serious, but couldn't help asking all the usual questions. Where ya headed, from where? Really?
Then he 'ran a check' on me, looking for outstanding warrants I assume? I'm an outlaw! Andy the Kidd.
Finally, he said good luck and left. Gooooood morning Rhinelander!
So I'm off to Shawano today. About 100 miles. That'll put me within 40 miles of Green Bay. I talked to a college friend who lives just south of Green Bay, and he happens to have an extra ticket for Saturday's game. Perfect! So I'll spend Friday and Saturday in Green Bay, go to the Packers-Seahawks game Saturday night, and loop up into Door County on Sunday.
That's the plan Stan. You don't need to be coy Roy. Hop on the bus Gus - don't need to discuss muuuch! Just drop off the key Lee - and get yourself free.
Ellen and Sarah
In the computer time crunch after leaving Fargo, I did not have time to mention Ellen and Sarah, and I most certainly should have. I met Ellen at Best Buy, she listened to me lament about the Devils Lake flood as I begrudingly bought a new camera. She was breezy and fun and I told her that I may get bored hanging out with my 60-year old house-guests, and if anything exciting came up she should give me a call.
So, she called later and she and her friend Sarah came and picked me up. They were very gracious chauffeurs of my somewhat immobile self. We went over to their friend's house, where they were playing water-pong. This is the underaged version of beer-pong. To me, it was such a foreign concept, I guess I've played beer pong enough that it was very strange to be shooting ping pong balls into plastic cups but not having to then drink the beer contained in them. I suppose we could've drank the water, but Dave Matthews told us not to.
Anyway, I tried to get used to it and we had fun. Then we went and found a late-night diner.
The next day we got breakfast at IHOP, where these girls knew absolutely everyone! Popular peeps they were. The afternoon was filled with ferris wheel rides in sporting goods stores and a trip to the movie theatre. All in all they made my time in Fargo much more enjoyable than it otherwise would've been. So cheers to them, Ellen is off to school in Duluth and Sarah is contemplating travel, possibly even bicycle travel. The best kind, of course.
So, she called later and she and her friend Sarah came and picked me up. They were very gracious chauffeurs of my somewhat immobile self. We went over to their friend's house, where they were playing water-pong. This is the underaged version of beer-pong. To me, it was such a foreign concept, I guess I've played beer pong enough that it was very strange to be shooting ping pong balls into plastic cups but not having to then drink the beer contained in them. I suppose we could've drank the water, but Dave Matthews told us not to.
Anyway, I tried to get used to it and we had fun. Then we went and found a late-night diner.
The next day we got breakfast at IHOP, where these girls knew absolutely everyone! Popular peeps they were. The afternoon was filled with ferris wheel rides in sporting goods stores and a trip to the movie theatre. All in all they made my time in Fargo much more enjoyable than it otherwise would've been. So cheers to them, Ellen is off to school in Duluth and Sarah is contemplating travel, possibly even bicycle travel. The best kind, of course.
8.14.2007
Once
I saw a video for a song in the movie 'Once' the other day, and based on the song I think that everyone should go see the movie immediately. I don't even really know what it's about, I just know that it HAS to be good based on the song. Might as well buy the soundtrack while you're at it!
I'm in Hurley, Wisconsin. Slept outside the Information Center. Trying to get some information here... about the way some people are. Thank you David Gray.
There is a bit of a grasshopper epidemic in these parts! What is the purpose of grasshoppers anyway? They hop... but what else? They make noise with their fiddles? Or are those crickets...
In any case, it's a reeeal problem. There are literally thousands of them littering the streets. My bike startles them and their natural reaction is to hop.
But don't they understand they are supposed to hop into the grass and not my face!?! They are called grasshoppers, not facehoppers! Silly wabbits.
So I'm riding along and whap! Right in the face. Whap! In the left shoulder. It's not that I mind being hit by grasshoppers, it's more the surprise factor. Surprises aren't good while riding on a 1 foot shoulder with big logging trucks on your left and a dropoff to gravel on your right.
I saw two grasshoppers mating on a wooden fence the other day, the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees, and now grasshoppers! I promptly backhanded them off the fence and explained to them that I am instituting a 1 grasshopper limit, similar to China and their children. One grasshopper only please, we have too many!
And where is the Keebler Elf when you need him? Doesn't he use grasshoppers to make those chocolate mint cookies? Shouldn't he be out here walking along with a bag - a sack - collecting these dummies for his recipe? I imagine the Pillsbury DoughBoy would be his sidekick... where are these guys? Maybe they don't know there's a secret stash of grasshoppers in upper Wisconsin. Sorta like how the first settlers here didn't know there was iron ore in the hills. There's iron ore in them ther hills! And, for you Keebler Elves - grasshoppers for your cookies!
I've also seen many signs recently that say 'Thank You. Please Call Again.'
But -- I never called in the first place!! It's bizarre. I would estimate that 3 people out of 100 actually call the store before they shop there. So they are incorrectly assuming that these other 97 people called them. Wouldn't they need a call center in India if this was the case?
Please Call Again. Rrrrright. Please Get a Better Sign That More Accurately Describes What Just Took Place! Dammit.
Finally, because today has been declared Complaint Day, I'd like to say a few things about the roads in this country. And it's not any one state either, it's a nation-wide epidemic! Grasshoppers and Cracks in the Road - I will run for President on this platform.
Forget Iraq and health care - we've got more serious problems to deal with!
So, we've put a man on the moon (or have we?) but apparently have not figured out how to build roads that can withstand cold. What happens is the road freezes, expands, and then cracks. Can't we find a material that can withstand the expansion??? I don't get it.
Our solution so far seems to be that in the spring we just go along and pour tar into the cracks. Every 30 feet. You probably don't notice this in a car, but on a bike - every 30 feet - it's DA-DUMP. 30 more feet - DA-DUMP. Some are worse than others. Sometimes I feel like the bike may eventually just give in to the cracks. Ok fine cracks - you win! And it will just fall apart. The wheels will roll into the gutter, handlebars will disintegrate, seat will fall off, panniers will explode. It will be like the roadrunner running off a cliff and realizing he will now fall.
I will be left in mid-air, wondering why we haven't figured out how to build smooth roads that don't crack under pressure, or ice.
Oh - I almost forgot - Alex, the Russian guy I was traveling with, is in Rochester, New York already! Insane. Good thing this isn't a race...
He's actually staying at my mom's place, I'm interested to hear what she thinks of him. He can be difficult to understand sometimes with his Russian accent, but he is wildly funny.
I'm in Hurley, Wisconsin. Slept outside the Information Center. Trying to get some information here... about the way some people are. Thank you David Gray.
There is a bit of a grasshopper epidemic in these parts! What is the purpose of grasshoppers anyway? They hop... but what else? They make noise with their fiddles? Or are those crickets...
In any case, it's a reeeal problem. There are literally thousands of them littering the streets. My bike startles them and their natural reaction is to hop.
But don't they understand they are supposed to hop into the grass and not my face!?! They are called grasshoppers, not facehoppers! Silly wabbits.
So I'm riding along and whap! Right in the face. Whap! In the left shoulder. It's not that I mind being hit by grasshoppers, it's more the surprise factor. Surprises aren't good while riding on a 1 foot shoulder with big logging trucks on your left and a dropoff to gravel on your right.
I saw two grasshoppers mating on a wooden fence the other day, the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees, and now grasshoppers! I promptly backhanded them off the fence and explained to them that I am instituting a 1 grasshopper limit, similar to China and their children. One grasshopper only please, we have too many!
And where is the Keebler Elf when you need him? Doesn't he use grasshoppers to make those chocolate mint cookies? Shouldn't he be out here walking along with a bag - a sack - collecting these dummies for his recipe? I imagine the Pillsbury DoughBoy would be his sidekick... where are these guys? Maybe they don't know there's a secret stash of grasshoppers in upper Wisconsin. Sorta like how the first settlers here didn't know there was iron ore in the hills. There's iron ore in them ther hills! And, for you Keebler Elves - grasshoppers for your cookies!
I've also seen many signs recently that say 'Thank You. Please Call Again.'
But -- I never called in the first place!! It's bizarre. I would estimate that 3 people out of 100 actually call the store before they shop there. So they are incorrectly assuming that these other 97 people called them. Wouldn't they need a call center in India if this was the case?
Please Call Again. Rrrrright. Please Get a Better Sign That More Accurately Describes What Just Took Place! Dammit.
Finally, because today has been declared Complaint Day, I'd like to say a few things about the roads in this country. And it's not any one state either, it's a nation-wide epidemic! Grasshoppers and Cracks in the Road - I will run for President on this platform.
Forget Iraq and health care - we've got more serious problems to deal with!
So, we've put a man on the moon (or have we?) but apparently have not figured out how to build roads that can withstand cold. What happens is the road freezes, expands, and then cracks. Can't we find a material that can withstand the expansion??? I don't get it.
Our solution so far seems to be that in the spring we just go along and pour tar into the cracks. Every 30 feet. You probably don't notice this in a car, but on a bike - every 30 feet - it's DA-DUMP. 30 more feet - DA-DUMP. Some are worse than others. Sometimes I feel like the bike may eventually just give in to the cracks. Ok fine cracks - you win! And it will just fall apart. The wheels will roll into the gutter, handlebars will disintegrate, seat will fall off, panniers will explode. It will be like the roadrunner running off a cliff and realizing he will now fall.
I will be left in mid-air, wondering why we haven't figured out how to build smooth roads that don't crack under pressure, or ice.
Oh - I almost forgot - Alex, the Russian guy I was traveling with, is in Rochester, New York already! Insane. Good thing this isn't a race...
He's actually staying at my mom's place, I'm interested to hear what she thinks of him. He can be difficult to understand sometimes with his Russian accent, but he is wildly funny.
8.13.2007
Ashland, Wisconsin
I have 26 minutes remaining on the Ashland library's computer. Silly time limits! This trip is supposed to be about escaping deadlines and constraints and boundaries and here I am consciously anxious of time escaping me. Time. There's always time. On my mind.
Tiiiime is not on my side... like sand through an hourglass...
Actually, there was a quote by Dylan Thomas on a towel dispenser at Tom's Burned Down Bar on Madeline Island that said 'Time held me green and dying, though I sang in my chains like the sea.' -- I'm still thinking about that one.
Blue used to be my favorite color but green is coming on strong. Amazing all the different shades of green there can be. And blue. And for the deadheads - gray! Miles Davis has a song called Blue in Green - maybe that'd be the best of both worlds and I'll choose that.
So, the journey continues. I met some fantastic people in Duluth. It's a cool port town right on Lake Superior. I stayed there two nights. The first night I met up with someone from couchsurfer.com named Lura. She is moving to Switzerland in a few weeks so her apartment was a mess and the couch was unsurfable. We just met for dinner and a few drinks. The few drinks turned into many. The blasted Lake Superior Oatmeal Stout was just too tasty. I awoke on a bluff overlooking the Lake with a headache. Rolled into town and found coffee and the library, which was closed. Had a great phone conversation with a good friend. You know after a night out how you have a nervous excitable energy where you feel tired but happy? Something like that... I enjoyed a lazy day, saw an afternoon movie, then had dinner at Little Angie's Cantina.
There I met some softball players from the Saint Benedict's Church team. They wanted to use my table and chairs so they offered me a margarita to join their jamboree. I accept!
They were funny, and actually another random guy named John ended up joining in the fun. He was in town on business and on his own. The team started telling jokes, good clean jokes, so I threw out my two standbys -
Where did the General keep his Army?
Give up?
In his sleeveee!
And....
Why is 6 afraid of 7?
Because 7 ate 9!
Those went over well. And then Zack countered with:
What did zero say to eight? .............. comedic pause........... give up?
Nice Belt!
Oh boy.
Anyway, we walked out to the lighthouse. Kim, Zach and I. They asked where I was staying, I said 'beats the heck out of me!' -- actually there was supposed to be a rowing club over the bridge and through the woods that had some nice grass to lay my head, so that was my vague destination. We parted ways, and I found a playground with some grass where I pitched my tent and started to fall asleep.
In a dazy sleepy haze, I heard someone say my name. ANDY. Was I dreaming? Sleeping? It seemed real, and there was a figure outside my tent. Who was it? I said 'yes?' -- she said 'it's Kim -- I was wondering if you wanted to stay on my couch.' Kim's parents were staying with her so she didn't think having a stranger sleep on the couch was a good idea, but she got home and ran it by her parents and her parents said 'you should've invited him over!' -- at this point, I would've said oh well and gone to bed. It was near midnight and she had to be at work by 8am. But Kim, being the kind soul that she was, decided to get in her car and drive across town, over the bridge, to search for a stranger in a tent that she may or may not find. Because she has traveled before and know how nice a warm shower can be. She found me, I packed my stuff up, bungeed the bike into the trunk, and off I went to a warm, comfortable couch, which was carefully (full of care) covered with fresh sheets and blankets and pillows. It was great. Thank you Kim. That wins the random act of kindness award for the trip so far.
The next day I hung out with her parents for a bit, her dad took me to AAA to get a map, then over to the bridge that I had crossed the night before. Where we bid goodbye and I continued on my way. With grateful gladness.
I stayed in Burle, Wisconsin that night. Found a bar/restaurant/general store - but no casino! where the bartender was kind enough to do a load of laundry for me. She did my laundry while I enjoyed a cold Budweiser and played Bingo with the locals. Soooo, you'll do my laundry, while I drink a beer and play Bingo? Deal, or no deal? - DEAL!
I spent the next afternoon on an outdoor patio in Bayfield, listening to an acoustic guitarist play lonesome lullabyes. The sun was warm and the breeze was slight and it was all very relaxing. Madeline Island lazed in the distance. That was my destination for the night but I was in no hurry. Eventually I made my way over to the ferry and if I had a boat, I'd go out on the water. And if I had a pony, I'd ride him on my boat. And we would all together, go out on the ocean. Just me upon my pony upon my boat. We'll have to substitute bike for pony. Although that makes it less interesting.
On the island there was a softball tournament in progress. I watched. Girl's softball. There's only so many good eye, good eye, good eye! Let's go Sheila! Let's go Sheila! -- shrill and shrieky comments that you can hear before you want to leave. So I left. Rode around the island a while, then stopped at Tom's Burned Down Bar because I heard music. Me likey music.
There I met Courtney (a guy), his wife Kristen, Deanna, Bridget and a few of their other friends. We had a good time, eventually heading back to their campsite, where we promptly jumped into the water. I stood there in calm, cool water - looking up. Millions of stars, millions of galaxies. Can you believe that there are millions of other galaxies out there besides the Milky Way galaxy? Hard to imagine the vastness.
And then I saw a shooting star. Sweet sweet magic.
The next morning, after breakfast, I encountered a fabulous family in the parking lot who were wryly wondering what I'm doing. A surreptitious smile. Why, I'm on the road to everywhere and nowhere, all at once! We talked for awhile, they had questions, I had answers. I didn't catch their names, but hello to you guys! The mom secretly donated to my cross-country cause, slipping dollars into my panniers, for 'the next good meal or hotel room'. Cool cool family.
I'm in Ashland now, trying to decide if I should head over to Green Bay, or make my way across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If I go to Green Bay, there is the possibility of catching the Packers-Seahawks game at Lambeau Field this Saturday - which would be incredible. Plus I've heard Door County is scenic, lots of little coastal fishing villages. I would then take the ferry over Lake Michigan to Michigan. The other option is to trek across the UP, which I've heard is beautiful too. Either way I suppose I win. I like this game!
Tiiiime is not on my side... like sand through an hourglass...
Actually, there was a quote by Dylan Thomas on a towel dispenser at Tom's Burned Down Bar on Madeline Island that said 'Time held me green and dying, though I sang in my chains like the sea.' -- I'm still thinking about that one.
Blue used to be my favorite color but green is coming on strong. Amazing all the different shades of green there can be. And blue. And for the deadheads - gray! Miles Davis has a song called Blue in Green - maybe that'd be the best of both worlds and I'll choose that.
So, the journey continues. I met some fantastic people in Duluth. It's a cool port town right on Lake Superior. I stayed there two nights. The first night I met up with someone from couchsurfer.com named Lura. She is moving to Switzerland in a few weeks so her apartment was a mess and the couch was unsurfable. We just met for dinner and a few drinks. The few drinks turned into many. The blasted Lake Superior Oatmeal Stout was just too tasty. I awoke on a bluff overlooking the Lake with a headache. Rolled into town and found coffee and the library, which was closed. Had a great phone conversation with a good friend. You know after a night out how you have a nervous excitable energy where you feel tired but happy? Something like that... I enjoyed a lazy day, saw an afternoon movie, then had dinner at Little Angie's Cantina.
There I met some softball players from the Saint Benedict's Church team. They wanted to use my table and chairs so they offered me a margarita to join their jamboree. I accept!
They were funny, and actually another random guy named John ended up joining in the fun. He was in town on business and on his own. The team started telling jokes, good clean jokes, so I threw out my two standbys -
Where did the General keep his Army?
Give up?
In his sleeveee!
And....
Why is 6 afraid of 7?
Because 7 ate 9!
Those went over well. And then Zack countered with:
What did zero say to eight? .............. comedic pause........... give up?
Nice Belt!
Oh boy.
Anyway, we walked out to the lighthouse. Kim, Zach and I. They asked where I was staying, I said 'beats the heck out of me!' -- actually there was supposed to be a rowing club over the bridge and through the woods that had some nice grass to lay my head, so that was my vague destination. We parted ways, and I found a playground with some grass where I pitched my tent and started to fall asleep.
In a dazy sleepy haze, I heard someone say my name. ANDY. Was I dreaming? Sleeping? It seemed real, and there was a figure outside my tent. Who was it? I said 'yes?' -- she said 'it's Kim -- I was wondering if you wanted to stay on my couch.' Kim's parents were staying with her so she didn't think having a stranger sleep on the couch was a good idea, but she got home and ran it by her parents and her parents said 'you should've invited him over!' -- at this point, I would've said oh well and gone to bed. It was near midnight and she had to be at work by 8am. But Kim, being the kind soul that she was, decided to get in her car and drive across town, over the bridge, to search for a stranger in a tent that she may or may not find. Because she has traveled before and know how nice a warm shower can be. She found me, I packed my stuff up, bungeed the bike into the trunk, and off I went to a warm, comfortable couch, which was carefully (full of care) covered with fresh sheets and blankets and pillows. It was great. Thank you Kim. That wins the random act of kindness award for the trip so far.
The next day I hung out with her parents for a bit, her dad took me to AAA to get a map, then over to the bridge that I had crossed the night before. Where we bid goodbye and I continued on my way. With grateful gladness.
I stayed in Burle, Wisconsin that night. Found a bar/restaurant/general store - but no casino! where the bartender was kind enough to do a load of laundry for me. She did my laundry while I enjoyed a cold Budweiser and played Bingo with the locals. Soooo, you'll do my laundry, while I drink a beer and play Bingo? Deal, or no deal? - DEAL!
I spent the next afternoon on an outdoor patio in Bayfield, listening to an acoustic guitarist play lonesome lullabyes. The sun was warm and the breeze was slight and it was all very relaxing. Madeline Island lazed in the distance. That was my destination for the night but I was in no hurry. Eventually I made my way over to the ferry and if I had a boat, I'd go out on the water. And if I had a pony, I'd ride him on my boat. And we would all together, go out on the ocean. Just me upon my pony upon my boat. We'll have to substitute bike for pony. Although that makes it less interesting.
On the island there was a softball tournament in progress. I watched. Girl's softball. There's only so many good eye, good eye, good eye! Let's go Sheila! Let's go Sheila! -- shrill and shrieky comments that you can hear before you want to leave. So I left. Rode around the island a while, then stopped at Tom's Burned Down Bar because I heard music. Me likey music.
There I met Courtney (a guy), his wife Kristen, Deanna, Bridget and a few of their other friends. We had a good time, eventually heading back to their campsite, where we promptly jumped into the water. I stood there in calm, cool water - looking up. Millions of stars, millions of galaxies. Can you believe that there are millions of other galaxies out there besides the Milky Way galaxy? Hard to imagine the vastness.
And then I saw a shooting star. Sweet sweet magic.
The next morning, after breakfast, I encountered a fabulous family in the parking lot who were wryly wondering what I'm doing. A surreptitious smile. Why, I'm on the road to everywhere and nowhere, all at once! We talked for awhile, they had questions, I had answers. I didn't catch their names, but hello to you guys! The mom secretly donated to my cross-country cause, slipping dollars into my panniers, for 'the next good meal or hotel room'. Cool cool family.
I'm in Ashland now, trying to decide if I should head over to Green Bay, or make my way across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If I go to Green Bay, there is the possibility of catching the Packers-Seahawks game at Lambeau Field this Saturday - which would be incredible. Plus I've heard Door County is scenic, lots of little coastal fishing villages. I would then take the ferry over Lake Michigan to Michigan. The other option is to trek across the UP, which I've heard is beautiful too. Either way I suppose I win. I like this game!
8.09.2007
What it feels like to ride...
My friend Tim, who I met outside an REI store in Mountain View, CA a few months ago, sent me an e-mail saying 'make sure you file the memory of what it feels like to ride, it's the most valuable part of the trip.'
Tim had actually ridden across the country the previous summer along the same route. Funny how you encounter people, how paths cross and people are introduced into your life. Coincidence? Or are we all connected in a way that we cannot describe or comprehend...
Again, someone needs to figure out this string theory jazz. I think it's important. But then someone told me that string theory cannot account for gravity, and gravity sure does seem to exist. The pencil drops to the floor. I do not float into the sky.
Anyway, Tim is a wise man, and I will try to remember what it feels like to ride. It is a freeing feeling. Yesterday I rode down Route 61, which follows the northern part of Lake Superior. Did you know that Lake Superior holds 10% of the world's fresh water? I did not know that. No wonder it's Superior... albeit a haughty appellation. Who died and made you King of the Lakes?
But it was scenic nonetheless. Perfect weather, slight breeze at my back, trees passing, birds chirping, sunlight shimmering on water - it was a good day. When you ride, the trees pass. Watching trees pass might be my favorite part. You can zone out - almost going cross eyed - not focusing on anything in particular. When you do this the passing trees become a blur of sorts. But it's a focused blur, if that makes sense. Things are in motion! It feels so good to be in motion. The turning of the wheel. The process of the pedal.
I enjoy the simplicity of the wheel. So simple even a caveman can do it! It is simple yet efficient. It's the circle thing again. There is no beginning and no end.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.
It is how I would like this trip to be. It is not about the destination, even though I do have one. It is the journey that is important. Movement and motion. Movement can be purposeful, in fact it should be purposeful. You should move with purpose, be conscious of your movement. Feel it. Feel your feet on the ground. Your place in this world, on this Earth.
I remember one time at Mount Irenaeus (a Franciscan retreat place in western NY founded by my doppleganging good friend and brother Father Dan) a guy named Cyprian Consiglio posed the question 'what does God sound like?' as we listened to different types of music -- that has always stuck with me. I don't think of God as sound. But maybe I should.
There is a song by Damien Rice called Eskimo. There is a part in this song, after a beautiful note with him singing the word KNOW, when a woman starts singing opera. It gives me the chills, every single time. It is what God sounds like to me.
I happened to look up the lyrics one day, and this is what I found out about the opera part:
(Next section is in Finnish - sung by Doreen Curran)
kosketa minua - touch me
älä käsilläsi - not with your hands
vaan niin että tunnen sinut - but the way I can feel you
kosketa minua - touch me
älä käsilläsi - not with your hands
mutta sielussasi - but within your soul
No wonder I get the chills!
Life is holy and good.
One last thing, in remembering what it feels like to ride, you must remember the birds. Birds of all kinds, colors, shapes and sizes. I continue to be amazed - and maybe it's because i'm traveling at 14 mph that I notice these things - but I continue to be amazed by birds, and their flight.
Oh what it must feel like to be a bird on the wind! Nobody can be that free.
But these birds, these simple little birds, they must be mathematical geniuses! The math that is involved in their movements, their precise movements. The physics of their flight is spellbinding. Their little brains must always be calculating how many flaps of the wings it will take to propel them 30 feet, raise them 4.3 inches, then dive left and land on a branch. Instantly stopping. Which all happens in 1.17 seconds. How do they do that? And then you have to factor in the wind?!?
All birds are geniuses, I am sure of it. Simple, happy little geniuses.
Tim had actually ridden across the country the previous summer along the same route. Funny how you encounter people, how paths cross and people are introduced into your life. Coincidence? Or are we all connected in a way that we cannot describe or comprehend...
Again, someone needs to figure out this string theory jazz. I think it's important. But then someone told me that string theory cannot account for gravity, and gravity sure does seem to exist. The pencil drops to the floor. I do not float into the sky.
Anyway, Tim is a wise man, and I will try to remember what it feels like to ride. It is a freeing feeling. Yesterday I rode down Route 61, which follows the northern part of Lake Superior. Did you know that Lake Superior holds 10% of the world's fresh water? I did not know that. No wonder it's Superior... albeit a haughty appellation. Who died and made you King of the Lakes?
But it was scenic nonetheless. Perfect weather, slight breeze at my back, trees passing, birds chirping, sunlight shimmering on water - it was a good day. When you ride, the trees pass. Watching trees pass might be my favorite part. You can zone out - almost going cross eyed - not focusing on anything in particular. When you do this the passing trees become a blur of sorts. But it's a focused blur, if that makes sense. Things are in motion! It feels so good to be in motion. The turning of the wheel. The process of the pedal.
I enjoy the simplicity of the wheel. So simple even a caveman can do it! It is simple yet efficient. It's the circle thing again. There is no beginning and no end.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.
It is how I would like this trip to be. It is not about the destination, even though I do have one. It is the journey that is important. Movement and motion. Movement can be purposeful, in fact it should be purposeful. You should move with purpose, be conscious of your movement. Feel it. Feel your feet on the ground. Your place in this world, on this Earth.
I remember one time at Mount Irenaeus (a Franciscan retreat place in western NY founded by my doppleganging good friend and brother Father Dan) a guy named Cyprian Consiglio posed the question 'what does God sound like?' as we listened to different types of music -- that has always stuck with me. I don't think of God as sound. But maybe I should.
There is a song by Damien Rice called Eskimo. There is a part in this song, after a beautiful note with him singing the word KNOW, when a woman starts singing opera. It gives me the chills, every single time. It is what God sounds like to me.
I happened to look up the lyrics one day, and this is what I found out about the opera part:
(Next section is in Finnish - sung by Doreen Curran)
kosketa minua - touch me
älä käsilläsi - not with your hands
vaan niin että tunnen sinut - but the way I can feel you
kosketa minua - touch me
älä käsilläsi - not with your hands
mutta sielussasi - but within your soul
No wonder I get the chills!
Life is holy and good.
One last thing, in remembering what it feels like to ride, you must remember the birds. Birds of all kinds, colors, shapes and sizes. I continue to be amazed - and maybe it's because i'm traveling at 14 mph that I notice these things - but I continue to be amazed by birds, and their flight.
Oh what it must feel like to be a bird on the wind! Nobody can be that free.
But these birds, these simple little birds, they must be mathematical geniuses! The math that is involved in their movements, their precise movements. The physics of their flight is spellbinding. Their little brains must always be calculating how many flaps of the wings it will take to propel them 30 feet, raise them 4.3 inches, then dive left and land on a branch. Instantly stopping. Which all happens in 1.17 seconds. How do they do that? And then you have to factor in the wind?!?
All birds are geniuses, I am sure of it. Simple, happy little geniuses.
8.07.2007
Ely, Minnesota - near the Boundary Waters
Sorry it's been awhile...
I'm in Ely, Minnesota. I took a northerly detour to see Bob Dylan's hometown, and take a tour of an old iron ore mine in Soudan.
Along the way, I have met some 'interesting' people. Manohmanohmanohman. After the Mississippi headwaters and the night in Bemidji, I spent the night in Bena.
Bena is on an Indian reservation, and every person that I've mentioned Bena to says 'I can't believe you made it out of there alive!' - I still don't understand what the big danger is, but people seem to think if you spend more than 14 seconds there, you end up dead.
I stopped at the general store that mentioned they had camping. I asked how much, they said $28, and I said 'you do realize that I'm sleeping on the ground. So really I'm paying for the atmosphere around me, the nitrogen and hydrogen and oxygen, the grass, and the wind and the sky and everything. I sail, I'm a sailor! Ahoy! So shouldn't that be a little closer to... Free???'
I left, went across the street and camped in the baseball field. But not before meeting Dinah Minks - I assume that's not her real name. She was the owner of the bar in Bena. I talked to her for a long time, she bought me a few drinks. Well, didn't really 'buy' since she owns the bar, more like gave. As the night went on, her consumption of Absolute and Diet Cokes increased at an alarming rate. She must've had 10 of them. The bartender kept saying 'one more, Dinah?' and she kept saying yes. They must go by factors of 10 there. 1 means 10. And she smoked INCESSANTLY. Gross. Unfortunately I was downwind so her Merit 100s kept wafting in my face. She would leave it there in the ashtray, rotting, as it slowly turned to ashy detritus. Stinky, smelly rot. It was hard to handle. Her two favorite sayings were 'what the piss' and 'piss on that' - she couldn't complete a sentence without using one of the two.
At one point she asked me 'do you think you'll make her?' - I was confused, but finally figured out that 'her' referred to me making it to Maine. I am gradually learning that people use 'her' in place of many things. It's a noun, it's a verb, it's a subject, it's a predicate, it's everything!
Then Dinah tells me that the 18 year old, 300 pound bartender named Kelly thinks I'm hot stuff and wants me to camp in her front yard. Ummmm, I think the baseball field will be fine, thanks. Then! - Dinah's daughter - the bar is a family affair - I've run into that more than once - the daughter and her friends tell me it's time to dance. I begrudgingly join them on the dancefloor as AC/DC's Thunderstruck plays in the background. I say 'are you sure you can dance to Thunderstruck?' They say 'you can dance to anything!'
Pretty soon after that I had had enough and wandered over to the baseball field. Yikes. I left scratching my head and wishing for normal people who like to learn things and acquire knowledge and better themselves in some way. Any way.
Unfortunately, the next day I ran into Shorty and Rhonda. At first, they seemed like nice, friendly people. Shorty inevitably offers to buy me a beer (I need to learn the art of politely declining), we were having a good conversation so I accepted. Of course it's a Natural Ice. That should've been my first hint there! He starts getting philosophical, I was still amused at that point - he's saying things like 'two positives make a negative' and when talking about the ocean, says 'as far as me and the ocean go -- f*** that big blue b!tch!' Rrrright.
Anyway, he invites me back to his place for a BBQ with his brother Rick. At that point it was 5pm and I figured it'd be a decent place to camp and have dinner. I ride over, about 10 miles, getting there before they did. I took a nap on their picnic table because I was afraid to touch anything else. There were at least 2 dogs chained up in back, 1 in the window of the trailer, yapping at me. It was a run-down trailer. There was a very large pile of beer cans in the front yard, an old tractor, an old lawn mower which, by the looks of the lawn, hadn't been used in many years. There were various abandoned pick-up trucks scattered about the property - I'd say at least 5. I learned later that they didn't have electricity or running water, so they had to run over to Rick's when something needed to be refrigerated or rinsed off.
Long story short - these guys were the rednecks of all rednecks. They were purple necks, deeply bruised black and blue necks.
They cooked chicken for dinner, they must've cooked it for at least 2 hours. I have no idea why. I didn't eat any. Rick had a serious tooth-ache and was highly intoxicated 'in order to deal with the pain.' He asked me at least 6 times where I was headed. After awhile I didn't even answer. He kept thinking that Maine was west of Minnesota.
I asked him what was wrong with his tooth - he said 'I dunno. Musta brushed it too hard or got a bristle stuck or sumpthin'. 'Well, have you seen a dentist Rick? Maybe you have a cavity?' - 'No, Shorty is my dentist, he says it's fine.'
This kinda thing went on and on. Rick showed me some rusty old containers in the back that he claimed were used by Al Capone during the bootlegging days. Al Capone made whiskey in my backyard! - he kept insisting.
By the end of the night I had a headache and went to bed. Is all of Minnesota like this?
The next few days got better. I met some nice, normal people at the bike shop in Grand Rapids. Finally! I told them how glad I was that they were normal, they just laughed.
Then I rode the Mesabi Trail - pretty cool bike trail through the woods - up to Hibbing, to Bob Dylan's hometown. I can see why he left! The town seems stuck in 1952.
And there was no museum, or exhibit, or anything saying that Bob Dylan was from there. One person in town said they don't really like him, and refer to him as the 'old Jewish boy with a big nose who broke the school piano' - I guess in high school he performed and they booed him off stage. He prompted busted up the piano.
I stopped at the Greyhound Museum - apparently Hibbing is widely recognized as the birthplace of bus travel. Who knew, right? I asked the old lady there where the Bob Dylan stuff was in town. She said there was no stuff, but I could go by his old house if I wanted to.
'Is there an exhibit there, or things to read?' I asked.
'Oh no, just a painting on the garage. Jimmie Lavine lives there now, he's a delivery boy in town for Frito Lay.' - Oh. Ok.
'Well, what other interesting things are there to see in town?'
'The high school. You MUST visit the high school, you can't miss seeing the auditorium!'
She was serious. I left.
Then the next day I met this fantastic character named Al at the Railroad Museum in the small town of Tower, MN. He was a breath of fresh air. The funniest guy I've come across in some time. I talked to him for about an hour, endlessly laughing. He was cracking me up. He was intelligent too, which was refreshing. He single handedly restored my faith in Minnesotans.
Al sometimes refers to people as white boys or white girls. It sounds funnier when he says it. Everyone is white in Minnesota anyway, which makes it even funnier. Thanks to you Al for being yo bad white boy self! --
Then I went to the oldest and deepest iron ore mine in America, in Soudan, MN. It was very very cool. Took a tiny spooky elevator half a mile down into the earth. It was beyond interesting. I kept thinking, 'wow, we are 27 stories underground, that's a lot'. Fascinating to hear stories of the old mining days. They eventually closed it down in 1962 because people figure out a way to add oxygen to less rich ore. This ore was 70% iron - which is very good I guess - but also very expensive. They would take this rich ore and mix it with less rich ore. This good ore was Fe2O3. The oxygen would react when heated and do something good to the less rich ore. I just don't know what. It's what the French call a certain 'I-don't-know-what'.
Moral of the story is they figured out a different and cheaper way - besides the Bessemer process - to make steel. Something about pumping oxygen into the less rich ore without relying on the chemical release of oxygen from the richer ore. Or something like that.
They also have a multi-million dollar facility there where they shoot neutrinos around and crash them into things, then chart the results on highly sensitive computers. Again, I have very little idea what this does or why they do it, it's way over my head. But it's endlessly interesting.
I spent the night last night in someone's yard in Ely. I asked her where the campground was, she didn't know but said I was welcome to stay in her yard. She didn't mention she had about 14 cats. It was a real live Animal Farm there! Dogs and cats and spiders and skeeters and lions and tigers and bears oh my! I woke up to cats meowing and dogs barking - there was a cobweb on my bike - must've been Charlotte's Web.
And, I had flat tire # 6 and 7 yesterday. Frustrating. I need to buy a new tire because the rear tire has worn thin, but the bike shop in town doesn't have the right size. Hopefully the bike shop in Duluth will.
So that's that! Ahh, Minnesota. I'm looking forward to Route 61 and Duluth. Duluth is supposed to be a cool town. So I hope. As long as Dinah and Shortie aren't there I think I'll be fine.
I'm in Ely, Minnesota. I took a northerly detour to see Bob Dylan's hometown, and take a tour of an old iron ore mine in Soudan.
Along the way, I have met some 'interesting' people. Manohmanohmanohman. After the Mississippi headwaters and the night in Bemidji, I spent the night in Bena.
Bena is on an Indian reservation, and every person that I've mentioned Bena to says 'I can't believe you made it out of there alive!' - I still don't understand what the big danger is, but people seem to think if you spend more than 14 seconds there, you end up dead.
I stopped at the general store that mentioned they had camping. I asked how much, they said $28, and I said 'you do realize that I'm sleeping on the ground. So really I'm paying for the atmosphere around me, the nitrogen and hydrogen and oxygen, the grass, and the wind and the sky and everything. I sail, I'm a sailor! Ahoy! So shouldn't that be a little closer to... Free???'
I left, went across the street and camped in the baseball field. But not before meeting Dinah Minks - I assume that's not her real name. She was the owner of the bar in Bena. I talked to her for a long time, she bought me a few drinks. Well, didn't really 'buy' since she owns the bar, more like gave. As the night went on, her consumption of Absolute and Diet Cokes increased at an alarming rate. She must've had 10 of them. The bartender kept saying 'one more, Dinah?' and she kept saying yes. They must go by factors of 10 there. 1 means 10. And she smoked INCESSANTLY. Gross. Unfortunately I was downwind so her Merit 100s kept wafting in my face. She would leave it there in the ashtray, rotting, as it slowly turned to ashy detritus. Stinky, smelly rot. It was hard to handle. Her two favorite sayings were 'what the piss' and 'piss on that' - she couldn't complete a sentence without using one of the two.
At one point she asked me 'do you think you'll make her?' - I was confused, but finally figured out that 'her' referred to me making it to Maine. I am gradually learning that people use 'her' in place of many things. It's a noun, it's a verb, it's a subject, it's a predicate, it's everything!
Then Dinah tells me that the 18 year old, 300 pound bartender named Kelly thinks I'm hot stuff and wants me to camp in her front yard. Ummmm, I think the baseball field will be fine, thanks. Then! - Dinah's daughter - the bar is a family affair - I've run into that more than once - the daughter and her friends tell me it's time to dance. I begrudgingly join them on the dancefloor as AC/DC's Thunderstruck plays in the background. I say 'are you sure you can dance to Thunderstruck?' They say 'you can dance to anything!'
Pretty soon after that I had had enough and wandered over to the baseball field. Yikes. I left scratching my head and wishing for normal people who like to learn things and acquire knowledge and better themselves in some way. Any way.
Unfortunately, the next day I ran into Shorty and Rhonda. At first, they seemed like nice, friendly people. Shorty inevitably offers to buy me a beer (I need to learn the art of politely declining), we were having a good conversation so I accepted. Of course it's a Natural Ice. That should've been my first hint there! He starts getting philosophical, I was still amused at that point - he's saying things like 'two positives make a negative' and when talking about the ocean, says 'as far as me and the ocean go -- f*** that big blue b!tch!' Rrrright.
Anyway, he invites me back to his place for a BBQ with his brother Rick. At that point it was 5pm and I figured it'd be a decent place to camp and have dinner. I ride over, about 10 miles, getting there before they did. I took a nap on their picnic table because I was afraid to touch anything else. There were at least 2 dogs chained up in back, 1 in the window of the trailer, yapping at me. It was a run-down trailer. There was a very large pile of beer cans in the front yard, an old tractor, an old lawn mower which, by the looks of the lawn, hadn't been used in many years. There were various abandoned pick-up trucks scattered about the property - I'd say at least 5. I learned later that they didn't have electricity or running water, so they had to run over to Rick's when something needed to be refrigerated or rinsed off.
Long story short - these guys were the rednecks of all rednecks. They were purple necks, deeply bruised black and blue necks.
They cooked chicken for dinner, they must've cooked it for at least 2 hours. I have no idea why. I didn't eat any. Rick had a serious tooth-ache and was highly intoxicated 'in order to deal with the pain.' He asked me at least 6 times where I was headed. After awhile I didn't even answer. He kept thinking that Maine was west of Minnesota.
I asked him what was wrong with his tooth - he said 'I dunno. Musta brushed it too hard or got a bristle stuck or sumpthin'. 'Well, have you seen a dentist Rick? Maybe you have a cavity?' - 'No, Shorty is my dentist, he says it's fine.'
This kinda thing went on and on. Rick showed me some rusty old containers in the back that he claimed were used by Al Capone during the bootlegging days. Al Capone made whiskey in my backyard! - he kept insisting.
By the end of the night I had a headache and went to bed. Is all of Minnesota like this?
The next few days got better. I met some nice, normal people at the bike shop in Grand Rapids. Finally! I told them how glad I was that they were normal, they just laughed.
Then I rode the Mesabi Trail - pretty cool bike trail through the woods - up to Hibbing, to Bob Dylan's hometown. I can see why he left! The town seems stuck in 1952.
And there was no museum, or exhibit, or anything saying that Bob Dylan was from there. One person in town said they don't really like him, and refer to him as the 'old Jewish boy with a big nose who broke the school piano' - I guess in high school he performed and they booed him off stage. He prompted busted up the piano.
I stopped at the Greyhound Museum - apparently Hibbing is widely recognized as the birthplace of bus travel. Who knew, right? I asked the old lady there where the Bob Dylan stuff was in town. She said there was no stuff, but I could go by his old house if I wanted to.
'Is there an exhibit there, or things to read?' I asked.
'Oh no, just a painting on the garage. Jimmie Lavine lives there now, he's a delivery boy in town for Frito Lay.' - Oh. Ok.
'Well, what other interesting things are there to see in town?'
'The high school. You MUST visit the high school, you can't miss seeing the auditorium!'
She was serious. I left.
Then the next day I met this fantastic character named Al at the Railroad Museum in the small town of Tower, MN. He was a breath of fresh air. The funniest guy I've come across in some time. I talked to him for about an hour, endlessly laughing. He was cracking me up. He was intelligent too, which was refreshing. He single handedly restored my faith in Minnesotans.
Al sometimes refers to people as white boys or white girls. It sounds funnier when he says it. Everyone is white in Minnesota anyway, which makes it even funnier. Thanks to you Al for being yo bad white boy self! --
Then I went to the oldest and deepest iron ore mine in America, in Soudan, MN. It was very very cool. Took a tiny spooky elevator half a mile down into the earth. It was beyond interesting. I kept thinking, 'wow, we are 27 stories underground, that's a lot'. Fascinating to hear stories of the old mining days. They eventually closed it down in 1962 because people figure out a way to add oxygen to less rich ore. This ore was 70% iron - which is very good I guess - but also very expensive. They would take this rich ore and mix it with less rich ore. This good ore was Fe2O3. The oxygen would react when heated and do something good to the less rich ore. I just don't know what. It's what the French call a certain 'I-don't-know-what'.
Moral of the story is they figured out a different and cheaper way - besides the Bessemer process - to make steel. Something about pumping oxygen into the less rich ore without relying on the chemical release of oxygen from the richer ore. Or something like that.
They also have a multi-million dollar facility there where they shoot neutrinos around and crash them into things, then chart the results on highly sensitive computers. Again, I have very little idea what this does or why they do it, it's way over my head. But it's endlessly interesting.
I spent the night last night in someone's yard in Ely. I asked her where the campground was, she didn't know but said I was welcome to stay in her yard. She didn't mention she had about 14 cats. It was a real live Animal Farm there! Dogs and cats and spiders and skeeters and lions and tigers and bears oh my! I woke up to cats meowing and dogs barking - there was a cobweb on my bike - must've been Charlotte's Web.
And, I had flat tire # 6 and 7 yesterday. Frustrating. I need to buy a new tire because the rear tire has worn thin, but the bike shop in town doesn't have the right size. Hopefully the bike shop in Duluth will.
So that's that! Ahh, Minnesota. I'm looking forward to Route 61 and Duluth. Duluth is supposed to be a cool town. So I hope. As long as Dinah and Shortie aren't there I think I'll be fine.
8.02.2007
Random thoughts while staying at the Super 8
Watching TV last night, I learned a few things:
Kevin Arnold has the most mobile scalp on the planet! He can shift that thing from front to back and from side to side quicker than you can say Winnie Cooper (who by the way has a new book out - based on the article I read it sounds like the real life Winnie is an idiot. But I refuse to believe it because Winnie is perfect.) From one expression to the next, Kevin Arnolds ears become his chin, his chin moves up to his forehead, and his forehead becomes his neck. It's amazing.
CMT (I think it's Country Music Television?) has some fantastic programming. They have a funniest home videos show, only it's with rednecks. You MUST see this show. It should be on one of the major networks. And they also have old Dukes of Hazzard reruns. Good, clean fun.
London bridge fell down last night. Ok, Minneapolis. I'm a few hours north of there, but it's big news around here.
The movie 28 Days is eminently rewatchable. I'm a Sandra Bullock fan! I know, I have problems.
One news station said that they're going to give pigeons birth control pills in Los Angeles. Not sure if that's true or not, but while we're on the subject, where are all the baby pigeons??? Do the adult pigeons hide the babies until they are ready to be debuted as adults? Do pigeons have nests??? WHERE ARE THE BABIES!
Sorry, I'm getting carried away.
A few other notes from the trip that I've forgotten to mention-
Don't bother asking a bar what beer they have. I will tell you exactly what they have: Bud, Bud Light, Miller, Miller Lite, Coors, Coors Light, Mikes Hard Lemonade, and maybe a Michelob Amber Bock if you're lucky. I've gone into bars and been asked 'what would you like?' - and I made the silly mistake of asking if they had Corona - NO -, Sam Adams? - NO -, Sierra Nevada? NO - OK, fine. How 'bout you tell me what you DO have.... and then we get into the inevitable listing of - Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite - I love it. Sometimes I ask just to be amused by The List. It's funny, they always list Bud before Miller. Maybe they're going in alphabetical order.
And one last item of interest - they call bags 'sacks' out here.
The first time the clerk asked 'would you like a sack for that?' - I was extremely confused. My mind scanned through all the sacks it knew... quarterback sack? Noo. Sack of potatoes? Couldn't be. Sometimes people refer to bags of marijuana as sacks - but that couldn't be it... I ran out of Sack possibilities and had to ask -- Ummmm, what's a sack? You know, BAG. Would you like a bag for that? Ohhhhh, you mean a BAG! Ok. Um, no thanks. It's just a gatorade and a candy bar, I think I can manage.
So, if you ever travel in the plains states - bags are sacks.
Kevin Arnold has the most mobile scalp on the planet! He can shift that thing from front to back and from side to side quicker than you can say Winnie Cooper (who by the way has a new book out - based on the article I read it sounds like the real life Winnie is an idiot. But I refuse to believe it because Winnie is perfect.) From one expression to the next, Kevin Arnolds ears become his chin, his chin moves up to his forehead, and his forehead becomes his neck. It's amazing.
CMT (I think it's Country Music Television?) has some fantastic programming. They have a funniest home videos show, only it's with rednecks. You MUST see this show. It should be on one of the major networks. And they also have old Dukes of Hazzard reruns. Good, clean fun.
London bridge fell down last night. Ok, Minneapolis. I'm a few hours north of there, but it's big news around here.
The movie 28 Days is eminently rewatchable. I'm a Sandra Bullock fan! I know, I have problems.
One news station said that they're going to give pigeons birth control pills in Los Angeles. Not sure if that's true or not, but while we're on the subject, where are all the baby pigeons??? Do the adult pigeons hide the babies until they are ready to be debuted as adults? Do pigeons have nests??? WHERE ARE THE BABIES!
Sorry, I'm getting carried away.
A few other notes from the trip that I've forgotten to mention-
Don't bother asking a bar what beer they have. I will tell you exactly what they have: Bud, Bud Light, Miller, Miller Lite, Coors, Coors Light, Mikes Hard Lemonade, and maybe a Michelob Amber Bock if you're lucky. I've gone into bars and been asked 'what would you like?' - and I made the silly mistake of asking if they had Corona - NO -, Sam Adams? - NO -, Sierra Nevada? NO - OK, fine. How 'bout you tell me what you DO have.... and then we get into the inevitable listing of - Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite - I love it. Sometimes I ask just to be amused by The List. It's funny, they always list Bud before Miller. Maybe they're going in alphabetical order.
And one last item of interest - they call bags 'sacks' out here.
The first time the clerk asked 'would you like a sack for that?' - I was extremely confused. My mind scanned through all the sacks it knew... quarterback sack? Noo. Sack of potatoes? Couldn't be. Sometimes people refer to bags of marijuana as sacks - but that couldn't be it... I ran out of Sack possibilities and had to ask -- Ummmm, what's a sack? You know, BAG. Would you like a bag for that? Ohhhhh, you mean a BAG! Ok. Um, no thanks. It's just a gatorade and a candy bar, I think I can manage.
So, if you ever travel in the plains states - bags are sacks.
8.01.2007
Bemidji, Minnesota
I is be in Bemidji - sounds like Jumanji - Minnesota. After the debacle at Devil's Lake, I decided to get a hotel room for this round of 'thunderstorms, possibly severe at times'. The sky has been threatening all day and mother nature already made her point, I got it loud and clear and I ain't messing 'round no mo! One flood is enough for me.
I splashed around in the headwaters of the Mississippi yesterday. It's bizarre, the mighty Mississippi originates in a place called Lake Itasca, where it's just a dribbling, drooling stream - you can walk across it. It actually flows north to Bemidji and then heads south where it turns into its mighty self.
I've become lazy the past few days. I spent this weekend in Fargo, ND, staying with a very nice older couple. They took me to Best Buy on Saturday where I purchased a new camera. I hung around until Monday morning, I was becoming the guy on the couch, in the basement. Nice! Actually it was nice.
Then I went to Calloway, Minnesota on Monday, and Lake Itasca yesterday.
I met a fantastic family at Ice Cracking Lake in Minnesota. They recently bought the Ice Cracking Lodge, which they were kind enough to open up early for me. They have three of the cutest kids around, the one little boy wants to be a race car driver. He's 4. And the girl wants to ride horses, and 'pet them'. She's probably 6. Cute, cute kids.
I ended up spending hours there, the locals started buying me drinks, looking at my maps, telling me where to go. I tell you this bike is the secret to free drinks! Super great people. I met a boy-scout leader - watch out! - who had just taken his troup on a bike ride from the Twin Cities (Minneapolis/St. Paul). He thought it was the neatest thing since sliced bread and was very interested in what I was doing. 'Serious biking' as he called it.
Last night I stayed behind the Rock Creek convenience store outside of Lake Itasca. I talked awhile with the owner last night, then spent this morning drinking coffee, reading the newspaper and shooting the breeze with his daughter while I waited out a passing thunderstorm. He and his daughter bought the store last year. They were extremely nice people and thanks to them for their kind hospitality.
Anyway, I'm headed to Grand Rapids tomorrow, then I'm leaving the Adventure Cycling route and inventing one of my own. I'm going to go up to Hibbing, Minnesota, where Bob Dylan grew up. Then I'm going north of there to a place called Soudan - apparently there is an old mine there that gives tours. Take an elevator a mile down into the earth - going...down???
Then I'll take Route 1 over to Route 61 - revisited! Take Route 61 south down into Duluth - where Bob Dylan was born. I think he moved to Hibbing when he was 7. Did I mention I like Bob Dylan?
From there I'll head into Wisconsin, I haven't invented a plan for that state yet. If anyone knows of cool places to visit, or places to stay, in either Wisconsin or Michigan, lemme know! I'll probably stop by Green Bay to see Lambeau Field. I'm thinking of zooming around the upper peninsula of Michigan, I've heard it's cool up there. Other than that my calendar is wide open!
I splashed around in the headwaters of the Mississippi yesterday. It's bizarre, the mighty Mississippi originates in a place called Lake Itasca, where it's just a dribbling, drooling stream - you can walk across it. It actually flows north to Bemidji and then heads south where it turns into its mighty self.
I've become lazy the past few days. I spent this weekend in Fargo, ND, staying with a very nice older couple. They took me to Best Buy on Saturday where I purchased a new camera. I hung around until Monday morning, I was becoming the guy on the couch, in the basement. Nice! Actually it was nice.
Then I went to Calloway, Minnesota on Monday, and Lake Itasca yesterday.
I met a fantastic family at Ice Cracking Lake in Minnesota. They recently bought the Ice Cracking Lodge, which they were kind enough to open up early for me. They have three of the cutest kids around, the one little boy wants to be a race car driver. He's 4. And the girl wants to ride horses, and 'pet them'. She's probably 6. Cute, cute kids.
I ended up spending hours there, the locals started buying me drinks, looking at my maps, telling me where to go. I tell you this bike is the secret to free drinks! Super great people. I met a boy-scout leader - watch out! - who had just taken his troup on a bike ride from the Twin Cities (Minneapolis/St. Paul). He thought it was the neatest thing since sliced bread and was very interested in what I was doing. 'Serious biking' as he called it.
Last night I stayed behind the Rock Creek convenience store outside of Lake Itasca. I talked awhile with the owner last night, then spent this morning drinking coffee, reading the newspaper and shooting the breeze with his daughter while I waited out a passing thunderstorm. He and his daughter bought the store last year. They were extremely nice people and thanks to them for their kind hospitality.
Anyway, I'm headed to Grand Rapids tomorrow, then I'm leaving the Adventure Cycling route and inventing one of my own. I'm going to go up to Hibbing, Minnesota, where Bob Dylan grew up. Then I'm going north of there to a place called Soudan - apparently there is an old mine there that gives tours. Take an elevator a mile down into the earth - going...down???
Then I'll take Route 1 over to Route 61 - revisited! Take Route 61 south down into Duluth - where Bob Dylan was born. I think he moved to Hibbing when he was 7. Did I mention I like Bob Dylan?
From there I'll head into Wisconsin, I haven't invented a plan for that state yet. If anyone knows of cool places to visit, or places to stay, in either Wisconsin or Michigan, lemme know! I'll probably stop by Green Bay to see Lambeau Field. I'm thinking of zooming around the upper peninsula of Michigan, I've heard it's cool up there. Other than that my calendar is wide open!
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