Day 30

To Minneapolis! Indeed.

Had more rain and thunderstorms through the night but in the morning the skies were mostly clear. Packed up my things wet and got going. Took 95 down to Marine on St. Croix, which is really a mouthful for a town. Oldest logging settlement on the river. From there I took a road right up the side of the steep river valley through some farmland, though these farms are notably different. Almost like trinket farms- quant little things that somebody from the city goes out to every now and again. But who knows, I'm just speculating from the less-than-straight rows of crops and to-the-tee farmhouse decorarion.

From there I got on the Gateway trail. A well paved bike path which lifted me from the country side and shot me right into the mess of the twin cities. Got spit out somewhere in North St. Paul. And here's where I realized I was truly a Seattleite. Frst thing I did was go right to REI. First one I've seen the whole trip. But they sure had what I needed. Got me some white gas for the stove and some re-waterproofing agent for the rain suit. Nice fellas there were jealous of the trip. Down the street was the bike store, and Breezey got the equivalent of a full mani-pedi. Brand new chain, new tires, new tubes, and even a set of fenders. Chain was stretched out quite a bit after 1500 miles (oh yeah, my current total is 1,545), and the tires were worn down to the bone, all cut up and had pebbles and glass and things wedged in there. Fenders I hope will keep my feet, shins, and gears a litter drier and cleaner when riding in the rain.

From there I headed to the heart of the city. And HO! I said to myself when this came into view:

Only got better as I got closer.

Yesterday while raking my mind for anyone I knew in Minneapolis I remembered my friend Caroline from Skidmore. She's from here and I when I asked if she was around she said I could come stay in her apartment in Dinkytown (the college neighborhood to the University of Minnesota). Overjoyed, I made my way to her place and immediately exploded out my wet stuff to dry.

She was off to her parent's place for dinner, so I was left to my own devices. Rested on the couch for a bit, relishing in the luxury of it, and then ventured out into the city. Turns out, right across the street is a place selling poke bowls- pretty much my favorite food ever. I couldn't resist. Raw marinated fish on warm rice with fresh vegetables and a tasty sauce. Good lord, glorious food.

Now that I was fed I could go grocery shopping (it's a disaster if I go in there hungry). Got recommended a co-op across the river in Seward. Nice bridge I crossed to get there. Realized while on it, I was crossing the Mississippi for the first time. Boy, I really am going west.

Co-op was incredible. Found the bulk isle and went gonzo. Quinoa and couscous and rice and lentils and pasta and granola and beans and nuts and dried fruit! It was outrageous. Got some good indian sauces and then cheese, and some real fancy organic peanut butter. The real stuff.

Spent so long in there, by the time I came out the sun was getting low. But whoaw the golden hour was upon me.

I followed the light and found myself downtown. Cruising through the giant buildings, I let the city guide me where it would. Pulled up to a stop light and a group of girls were standing there talking. One of em looks at me and says, "would you mind if I kissed you on the cheek?" And I'm thinking to myself, now this is my kinda town! I says sure, and she does and her friend takes a photo. Some kind of batchelorette party of some sort. Now that we were aquainted I says "Hey! I got one night in Minneapolis, where should I go?" They say, "Downtown's too expensive, go to St. Anthony's." The light turned so I say thanks and off I go. In case you don't believe me, you can see her lipstick:

Up and down Marquette ave and then through the old Mill district I rode.

Realizing the sunset was getting real good, I made a B-line for the Stone Arch bridge. And boy, was that a good choice.

And here's Breezey looking fine, and me looking alright:

What a time. Lots of folks out on the street, it being Friday night. Rode through St. Anthony's right on the other side of the bridge there on the old brick streets past the old saw mills that are now artist lofts and restaurants. Finally headed back to Dinkytown when the light faded.

Real happy to be here, to have friends so gracious, to be in the right place at the right time, to have so much more to see, to be alive etc...

Day 29

Mike and Paula cooked me up a fine egg, hashbrown and bacon breakfast. Thunderstorms from the night before had oast. Warm and cloudy. Handshakes and hugs and I was gone.

Cumberland is a great little town. Food co-op was awesome. Organic produce and bulk grains. Just what I needed. Looks like a good outdoor store as well. The whole main street even has a stereo system hooked up to every street lampost playing some tunes. A nice touch.

On the way out of town I took this funny street, and thought maybe I'd have to bike straight into a brick pillar to be magically transported to my desired destination!

But it wasn't, so then I saw this sign and I thought, "aw gee..." (get it?)

In Balsam Lake I saw an incredible machine that looked like a floating tractor. It was big, blue, had giant spinning water wheels on both sides, and a shovel/conveyer belt contraption on the front. I asked a man what it was. He told me that it was a weed harvester to keep the lake free of pesky invasive weeds (at least for a month or so). He was the kinda guy who didn't really have a neck but instead his torso just tapered off until the top of his head, and he talked so loud I had to take a few steps back and one to the side to be out of the blast zone (while still being polite, of course).

Enjoyed a tasty semi-sweet wafer that looked like lace and was seasoned with annis that Paula had packed for me. Another Cumberland specialty.

Major cities like Minneapolis have an aura that surrounds them, one that's palpable even 80 miles outside the city limit. I began to feel it just before Osceola. Infrastructure changes, highways become more dense and convaluted, vehicles and store fronts change type, and towns begin to feel more like either attractions or parasitic conglomerates than centers of community. Osceola was off the attraction type. But I didn't stop long, and instead crossed the bridge and was in Minnesota.

A short stint on highway 95 brought me to William O'Brien State Park, where I set up camp on the rim of the St. Croix valley. Body wanted to be horizontal, so I pulled out the hammock and napped a bit before taking a hike down to the water's edge.

A lady asked me if these plants were poison ivy. I told her no. Dinner was some Kathmandu curry gifted to me by Austin, one of my hosts in Green Bay, as well as a whole block of Wisconsin cheese.

Lots of bugs. Mosquitos bad. Fireflies amazing.

Day 28

Expecting rains of biblical proportions, I made sure I enjoyed my evening of peace last night by the river.

And it was good. Tent is really starting to feel like home.

A bit of luck this morning. Woke up to the sound of a chorus of unfamiliar birds, and not raindrops outside. The clouds had moved in but the air was warm. I packed up my riverside camp  (the Namekagon River, I learned) in a hurry before the rain came. This is the most crucial time in keeping things dry. I'm water-proofed while riding and when in camp, it's just the inbetween when stuff in exposed.

Just as I was pulling out I felt a few light drops. Perhaps 8 miles later the light drops became more frequent. Still not enough to warrant the full rain suit (it gets terribly hot in there, especially with it being in the high 60's out).

A lady pulled over while I was looking at the map, and says "Have you heard of warmshowers!?" With people doing that, they'll never need to do advertising. She just wanted to make sure I knew and had a place to stay. I did, but thanks anyway, Jody.

I got off the main highway, and onto a smaller county road, which I was on for the rest of the day. It was then the rain really started. I was soaked to the bone within minutes. It really isn't bad until your socks get wet. Then it's all over. Those puppies won't be dry until the next morning.

I thought I was really in for it when the pavement stopped. I was walking my bike (in the height of the rain at this point) but just over the next hill it began again. Phew...

Pavement so smooth and covered in water it was like riding on the surface of a glassy pond. The reflections on the road were so clear I hardly needed to look up from under my hood.

Stopped to eat some of my celery and peanut butter under the cover of the gas station/bait shop/everything else because it's the only store in town shop in Edgewater. Always forget to drink water when it's raining.

Emerged from the thickest of the forest into more fields around 1pm. Still windy out here. Rain finally pedered out though, just a careless drop here and there.

Saw a sign I could get down with while making a right turn on county road V.

I'm right with you on that one, bud. Wisconsin won some bonus points with me for that.

Came into Haugen around 2 and stopped in the Village Grocery, advertising its produce, drugs, and antiques. Almost ran over the owner man as I pulled in (he was headed for the Post Office next door). He says "go right in I'll be back in a minute". He was gone for 10 or more and I could hear him chatting next door with the post man.

Found this pin in a basket with others like it from different years. Looks like a fun festival. Every town around here is the capital of something. Sometimes I feel obliged to get something when I stop at a store to take cover from the rain, or if the owner is nice. It was a dollar, and as I paid I asked the man if they still hold the festival and if it's a good time. He says "Every year. If someone don't like it, well it ain't my problem." Seemed reasonable enough.

After Haugen I it was only 16 or so miles to Cumberland. I made it ten and stopped for a break by the side of a lake.

Upon leaving for the home stretch, I noticed my back tire had gone flat. A slow leak though, and I thought I might be able to make it. I gave it a good pump with my portable pump, and again another mile or two before pumping again. Slow going, but it worked.

Made it to my hosts, Michael and Paula's house on the Northside of town just before the thunder came in. Apparently the area was under a tornado watch... Real nice folks with a cozy home. Both teachers at the local school- high school English and kindergarten. They treated me to a Cumberland specialty; cheese and raisin ravioli. Apparently the city is known as the highest concentration of Italians in any rural town in America. At one point they came to help build the railroad and then stayed. An outlier from the overwhelming Scandinavian and Northern European blood in the rest of the state. In fact I saw the first church that was Catholic and not Lutheran in a while.

Then the usual routine, clean bike, clean clothes, then clean me. Minneapolis feels within reach. Another day or two to the big city.

Day 27

Blue sky. A sight for sore eyes.

Had a strange dream last night. Dreamt that in order to get to Hayward I had to take another ferry. Somehow I took the ferry and when I got off, found myself in a very remote location. Had to ford a raging river, climb up a trail on a slope with deep mud, and decend down a jagged scree slope on the other side. When I found the road again I was met by a current classmate (who will not be named here) but no one I've been thinking about lately.  We rode together down the road which they seemed to know well, past towns which had been completely abandoned and overgrown. The weeds, as tall as men, sprung up in straight lines along the cracks in the pavement. Perhaps a premonition for things to come on my journey....

Dan and Jeanne serve me up a breakfast of Kings. Pancakes and sausage.  Filled to my gills for the second time in but 12 hours, I hopped on the bike once again and said farewell.

Back to Butternut and Beyond! (The title of my next book...) I cruised through Glidden and arrived in Clam Lake before long. Sitting on a stoop and chewing on dried fruit there in the shade, two fellows rolled in looking like cross country tourists (we're not too hard to pick out).  Turns out they're doing pretty much the same route as I, but in the opposite direction. They had left May 15th, and they were very tan. We exchanged cards, and the instant bond of fellow bicycle tourists was cemented. As it happened they were off to stay with my previous hosts that very night.

Another very long stretch of straight and well paved CCC Highway through the Northlands of Wisconsin.

Excellently pink and purple flowers along the way. If anyone knows what these are, do tell.

Riding on those long roads its amazing how little things can occupy your mind for what seems like ages. Excellent for meditation and deep thinking but it can drive you a bit mad.

The trees of gotten smaller but the bugs have gotten bigger. Some of them look like they belong in Jurassic Park. They like to do loops around me as I ride. Twice today one of the big ones smacked me somewhere on the face. Feels like someone threw an eraser at you, and they make the sound of a small plane dive-bombing straight for you before they hit. Kinda hurt, but was more shocking than anything.

Stopped for a break along the Chippewa River. Read a historical plaque which said that the spot was host to a bloody Indian ambush in the fall of 1790. A force of 700 Sioux traveling up river in 200 canoes was ambushed by the Chippewa for invading their lands. Not half of the Sioux escaped alive. They never went that far north again.

Finally around 4:30, I pulled into Hayward, my goal for the day, and home to legendary birkebeiner, an infamous 50k xc-ski race.

Downtown I found a bike store as I was looking for a fender. After the rains the other day and expecting more tomorrow, I figured it might reduce some of the up-spray and crud build-up on Breezey's gears. They didn't have the fender but the local kid working there knew of a place I might be able to camp for the night (something I always ask when I go into a store).  Luckily the bike and ski store on the other end of town had the fender, and I went and grabbed it before they closed. Might save me some grief in the future.

The tip from the kid was good. I didn't find a fire ring like he thought might be there, but sure enough, right below the dam on the river was a canoe Portage. God love these Northern people and their canoes.

It was well enough out of sight, and with water right there I had little to complain about. I set up camp quick, readying for tomorrow's forecasted storm (though you wouldn't know it with the fine evening weather).

Whipped up the first asian-inspired meal of the trip- that meaning it involved white rice and two packets of soy sauce. A bell pepper in the last of the sausage provided the oomf.

Here's to another day in the bag!

Day 26

Nothing like waking up to a cold room where the fire's gone out, but the smell of smoke still lingers. Reminds me of winter mornings in a yurt.

Still unseasonably cold here in Northern Wisconsin. The new day brought more of the same low-lying clouds, laden with moisture. Their ferocity however had lessened and had become instead a heavy mist. After peeking my head out of the lodge window, I packed up my things quickly to get on the road and perhaps beat the rain. On the way out I left a note for the kind lady who had helped me to find the innkeeper the night before. She heard me on her cabin steps and said goodbye as I peddled out the drive.

Mist is much more pleasant than rain, but just as effective in getting all of me wet. Made good time to Boulder Junction, and then hopped on a bike trail which took me all the way to Manitowish Waters. While on the trail I passed a large group of perhaps eight or ten cyclists, all riding in a line. I said hello to each one as I moved up their ranks, and when I got to the man in a recumbent bicycle at the front, I asked what the occasion was. He said they were a Lutheran church group riding 250 miles to raise money to aid world hunger. I thought that was pretty cool and as I biked ahead they began to sing, the man in the front leading it all. Their songs made me want to sing, and as I was thinking about my destination for the day, Butternut, I made up a song about butternut, sort of in a rockabilly style:

"I like butter tween my fingers, butter tween my toes, sometimes I take a stick of butter and rub it on my clothes
Oh I'm a Butternut, yes they call me butternut.
I'm the biggest butter freak to ever take a leak in Butternut.

Butternuts like me we don't come for free, I charge 50 cents a lick, but it sho is a kick.
Cause I'm a Butternut, yes they call me Butternut. I'm the biggest butter freak to ever take a leak in butternut.

Way up in Wisconsin in the land of the Lakes, there is a little town that is my namesake. The people up there, they're really outtasight. They like to lay on the floor and roll in butter all night.  Yes, that's in butternut. They some butternuts. But I'm the biggest freak to ever take a leak in butternut.

(Butter solo)

 I was rolling down Main Street in my butter-mobile looking for the loo and maybe a meal. They gave me two sticks of butter on a butter-cream base, and I was in seventh heaven after I squeezed the lemon. Oh butternut, yes, in butternut. I'm the biggest butter freak (pop pop), to ever take a leak (pa dop pop) ( suspenseful break) .... in butternut (band outro: parapapapa pop a duwah...)"

I thought it was pretty darn good, and I sang it to myself until it drove me a little crazy.

Luck came my way as I came into Mercer, the "Loon Capitol of Wisconsin," and the clouds finally broke and I saw my first blue sky in six days. A tremendous feeling. With the sun out, I really started flying, and was making great time on windy roads through some very wild country.  Just about the biggest swamp/marsh you could ever imagine. Smack dab in the middle of it is a large pond they call the Turtle-Flambeau Flowage (couldn't be a lake with this much marsh, so it's a flowage).

I like to read historical plaques as I bike, because I'm going slow enough to stop and read them and it gives me an idea of where I'm going. This particular road, County Road J, runs along what was once the Ridden Line, a railroad track put in around the turn of the century to access the timberlands of Northern Wisconsin. It operated until 1938 when the last of the trees were cut down and everyone left, leaving the region economically deprived. Funny how there's no mention in those historical plaques about anything to do with the flaws of the white man's natural resource rampage... However, it's signs like those that remind me that no road, nor any place, is without a story, even if no one is left to tell it.

I absolutely crushed those last 11 miles to Butternut and pulled into town just about 4 o'clock. I rode around for a minute, and then headed south to my hosts' place on Butternut Lake. Dan and Jeanne are former dairy farmers and they offered me a bed for the night. Glad to have it, I took a shower and gave Breezey a very thorough cleaning and oil job. Breezey worked very hard for me today, and did splendidly, so it was well deserved.
Feeling sore and full; a satisfying combination.

Day 25

The day started wet. Turns out it would be a theme for the day, but I didn't know that yet. Discovered some rodent had chewed a hole through my food bag, and moreover my off-brand duct tape didn't want to stick to the dry bag. So I was left with a not-so-dry food bag. Little bugger didn't get anything good though. Ha.

Hit the road and made 20 miles or so before long. Very pretty. I'm really in the land of lakes and marshes, stunted pines and green maple groves. A winding road took me along what was once called the old Superior Trail- first an Indian route, then a miner's and logger's Road, and finally a Military Road from Fort Howard in Green Bay to Fort something or other on the Keewanee peninsula (built during the Civil War- what danger there was up there I don't know). For now it's a well paved Scenic byway.

Realizing a bad habit of mine of putting things on top of my bags during a break, and then leaving when the bugs get bad and forgetting all about it, only to have to retrace my steps to find it somewhere along the road... ug.

Pulled into Eagle River sorely needing some food and a laundromat. My home washing technique in the shower only went so far- and that was when I had a shower.... luckily the first thing I saw when I pulled into town was Sheifert's laundry. Made a stop at the Subway next door for a loaf of whole wheat bread, which I made into a bologna sandwich that I ate while I waited for my laundry. As I waited the rain began to fall outside. A while later a large crew of counselors from a nearby Christian summer camp took the laundromat by storm. I only had a few pieces of clothing so I was done quickly, and as I got ready to go again it appeared as though the rain had passed (or so I thought).

Not 10 minutes into the ride towards Conover did the deluge begin again. Not only does the rain slow one down, it can be thoroughly demoralizing, especially on the side of a highway.

But I made it, and with no other choice headed out towards Star Lake. Another bitter 10 miles over dips and humps. No passing storm clouds here- this rain meant to stay.

Pulled into Star Lake feeling desperate, and looked for cover somewhere. Turns out the town is simply a bait shop that appears to have been closed for some time. Pretty typical for around here (as shown in this clipping):

Rode a little farther and saw a sign for the North Star lodge.  Perhaps they would know where I could camp around here- I was feeling as though going on would be pointless, or suicide, or both.

The lodge was a homey place. A large two-story wooden cabin situated above the lake with an attached restaurant and bar. I looked around but could not find anyone. The door was unlocked and I snooped around for a moment, but the creaky and tilted wooden floors (so wonky almost felt as though you were walking in a moving ship) with rows of empty rooms had me a little frightened. Eventually found woman in a small cabin next door, who called the owner. Bill (the owner), swing by and gave me room number 5 for $39. Seeing as there was no one else arriving tonight, I had the whole place to myself. Not bad, and sorely needed.

Quickly got to work making a fire, and then dried my stuff around it and made pasta on top of it. Sitting there before the crackling fire, with pine smoke smell in the room, my things finally on the drier side, and a nice bowl of pasta all to myself, I really felt glad. A good change from just a few hours before.  Not all bad days are lost causes. Think I'll sleep on the couth down here by the fire.

Day 24

Got a weird feeling from this campground. Feels like an RV park for alchoholics. Suspicions were confirmed when I went into the bar at 8:15am to use the bathroom and there were already (or still) 6 or 8 people in there.

Packed up and headed out without breakfast. That's the nice thing about being on the road- if ya don't like a place you can jusr clear out. On the road at 8:30, a new record. Made it to Mattoon before long, a miserable town, but it had a school with some benches to sit on and have my breakfast.

The day's weather was equally dreary. Cloudy, a little windy with spots of rain. Did notice though that a little wind and grey sky can make anything you do feel pretty epic.

Other observations: Wisconsin smells like poop. Mostly cow poop, some horse poop, and some poop unrecognizably foul. Scenery's pretty good. People hit or miss.

Decided to push on to Crandon, fine little town of maybe 2,000.

Having made a deal with myself some 15 miles ago, I rewarded myself with 2 slices of pizza for a mere $2.25 at the local pizza place. Resembled pizza only in its core elements, but really lacked the flavor or feel of most real pizzas. That said, a warm, cheesy, doughey thing that I didn't make was a dream come true.

Started so early, that I had made it to Crandon, the 60 mile mark, by just 3 o'clock. So I took it easy there, got some wifi etc and then rolled out towards Hiles, another 10 miles. On the way did some of my new pastime, roadside gardening:

Leaving Crandon, I heard a frightening sound, like a very angry beehive from far away. I got closer and I smelled exhaust and finally when I was nearly on it, my eyes burned from the dust in the air. Realized it was a rally car race.

Couldn't get a good view but I didn't hang around long at that worshiping of fossil fuels, speed and violence. Like modern day gladiators they ripped eachother up, spinning at high speeds around that track. The tailgate surrounding it was equally as putrid.

At Hiles, there were two places to camp. A RV park/campground and a national forest campground. I knew I needed a shower and laundry too, but dammit I was so fed up with those private campgrounds I went to the other one. Those places are just full of screaming kids, and mowed green lawns, and the only view is the side of other folk's trailers. Doesn't feel like you're anywhere. And they expect you to pay for it. The national forest campground actually had pine trees, some sense of peace and quiet and good, cold water that didn't taste like chlorine. Started to rain as I pulled in so I made a shelter for Breezey and me to cook under.

A tasty soup and then sleep. Too many bugs to stay awake.

Day 23

Finally, on the road again. Green Bay aint bad but I've still got many miles to go.

Little sad I didn't get to try this classic place:

I did do some calculations while I was hangin around. Looks like I hit the 1,000 mile mark just before I got to town. An encouraging thought.

Sun had come out again, and I could dry my shoes in the morning light- they always take the longest to dry out. Had to do some errands before I could hit the trail. First to the bike store, needed to borrow some degreaser for the chain. It always gets nasty and crunchy after a ride in the rain. Then off to a grocery store. Needed powdered milk. Only the big ones have an item like that, so had to venture bag through Ashwuabanon to the big box store. Always difficult to navigate all the auto infrastructure, makes me feel very out of place on a bike. Always seem to be channeled onto a highway. And when not on it, it's impossible to find a place to cross.
Got what I needed, but realized my chain was making a funny sound. Took a look at it and had to re-thread it. Not terribly hard, but it was all lubed up, which made it harder. Always have this daunting feeling when doing things like that, realizing if I don't fix this one thing, I can't go anywhere or do anything. Good for focus.

Lucky to have another rail trail all the way from Howard to Shawano. Started off nice gravel but deteriorated to a mere jeep track before long. Pretty but slow.

Debated leaving it for pavement, which I did a couple times, only to be stuck out in the winds again, or climbing hills. Always trade-offs. Easy to forget how debilitating those winds are. The kind that you have to pedal downhill just to stay upright. And in the flats it feels like you're going uphill, just no momentum at all.

Really in the "Hartland" now...

Took the first break in Shawano, maybe 30 miles from Green Bay.

Dude at the city park asked me if I wanted weed. Told him no, and he said my shorts looked like I shit myself. He's not wrong. But thats what 60 miles a day on a black seat does to a pair of orange shorts.

Another trail lead from Shawano towards Bowler, another 20 miles. I busted out the other twenty as the day was slipping by quickly, and was pretty worn out when I got there. Passed my the Mohican reservation and casino, and within 10 minutes saw two people pulled over. Friday night on the rez I guess.

In Bowler (pronounced BO-ler I was told later, not BAU-ler) I stopped at a baseball diamond where some kids were playing. They have nice dugouts and I considered camping there, but I asked a kid, said they had a game in the morning. Darn. So onwards, 7 more miles to the next campsite. Tired as hell but very pretty so late in the evening. Really taking advantage of these long days.

The campground had a Bar and Grill, which was really hopping, with pool table and all. Got a site for cheap, but ended up next to a family reunion. I said hello, figuring I shouldn't be stranger, and they invited me to have some food (as I hoped they might). It was mighty tasty, but I think they got a little annoyed when I went back for seconds and a third... woops.
Dog tired.

Day 22

A simple day. Woke in the park after yet another round of night thunderstorms, and packed my things wet with no other choice. Rode back down the penninsula, through warm air despite the thick clouds overhead. Back in Green Bay I laid up in a coffee shop on Broadway for a while and surfed the web. Looked outside and the rain had come. Ran out to cover up my things and pull out my rain suit. Came time to go to the doctor, which I did, riding south a ways, passed many a railroad track and warehouse to the suburb of Ashwuabanon. Doc visit was successful and rode to town again, in the rain, to the historic Astor Park district on the south east side of Green Bay. Some very pretty homes with streets named after odd presidents like Monroe and Vam Buren. Met my host for the night, Austin, at his place on Emilie st. He had a nice garage for me to stay, full of camping and biking gear. Glad to have a roof over my head on a rainy evening. I set some things out to dry and we talked.

I noticed a special looking bike in the back- it was his bike polo rig. A nifty little thing. He cooked up a mean curry and let me try some of his home brew- a great combo. I purused his records while the dog, Mally, wandered about. Later, I slept while listening the rain above me. A comforting night.