I have gone back to the beginning of How I Spent My Summer Vacation and am appalled at the number of typographical errors. I am going to fire my editor and get them corrected.
As promised, here are some fun facts about my Seattle to Hastings adventure:
It took me 39 days to complete the ride.
According to my big collection of maps, I covered 1,912 miles. All mileages reported in this blog have been based on my maps since I did not carry an odometer/computer on my bike. I tried to travel as minimalist as I possibly could and that was something I figured I could do without. Realistically, I could easily add another 100 miles onto the 1,912 to account for exploring towns, going off-route to campsites, searching for libraries, going to a grocery store or restaurant, making wrong turns and backtracking, etc.
I spent 353 miles and six nights in Washington. 52 miles and one night in Idaho. 826 miles and 17 nights in Montana. 382 miles and nine nights in North Dakota. 55 miles and 1 night in South Dakota. 243 miles and five nights in Minnesota.
My westernmost point was The Puget Sound in Seattle. My northernmost point was Eureka, Montana which is seven miles from the Canadian border. My southernmost and easternmost points were my driveway in Hastings.
I received a lot of support on this trip and now, in Academy Award fashion, I would like to extend some Thank Yous:
My wife Alice (The Feeshko) who knew this meant the world to me and, being the only person in the world who could have prevented it, gave me the green light. My son Aaron, who showed me around Seattle via bicycle and then joined me for the first five days of the ride. My daughter Kaylyne (Kaylo) supported me from day one and took as much pride in my ride as I did. My mom and dad, Ron and Ann, needlessly worried about me every single day I was on the road and they also expressed their pride in me frequently. My brother Dan (Dan Garjohnson) got me a great deal on my Surley Long Haul Trucker, assembled it for me, and then rode with me through some tough days near the end. He checked in on me from time to time and got his whole office to follow my blog. Actually, I thank my entire family and that includes everybody on my wife's side. They all gave me support. My good friend Jeff Wohlberg (J) for texting me all those encouraging messages and inspiring song lyrics. I also got very nice personal messages from Brian B., Beth B., and Bob S. I also definitely want to thank everybody who followed, or should I say, endured, my goofy blog and the photos I posted on Facebook--particularly those who commented and/or "liked" the nonsense I wrote. I know there were many of you.
With that said, I have now reached my final paragraph. I am trying to adjust to normal life now. I experienced and learned so much on this trip. I met so many nice people. Most of all, it was FUN. I think later on today I am going to start planning my next big adventure.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
August 28: Hastings, MN
Being that Minneapolis is considered one of the most bike-friendly cities in the U.S., I was able to traverse the city using nothing but paved bicycle trails: The Luce Line Trail, The Theodore Wirth Memorial Trail, The Midtown Greenway (recently rated the nation's best urban bike route, I liken it to an Interstate Highway, complete with lanes and on and off ramps,) The West River Trail, Minnehaha Falls Park Trail, and Fort Snelling State Park Trail. Then is was just a hot 20-mile ramble through some familiar back roads. I tried to slow down to savor the last hour of this unbelievably rewarding journey. I conjured up a bunch of memories. There were many. And then it was done.
I've been saving the following story for my conclusion. The setting was a rest area at Mile 118 on Interstate 94 about ten miles from New Salem, North Dakota. I filled my water bottles there and took a break. A woman with a young toddler came up to me and asked the usual questions about where I came from, where I was going and why. After I told her my story she told me that she and her husband were bike riders and they have been talking about riding across the country with their kids when they get old enough. "For the rest of their lives," she continued, "the kids will know that if they can accomplish something like that, they can accomplish ANYTHING."
I think THAT is exactly what I learned.
Tomorrow I will post some fun facts about my ride. But for now, there are a couple of Surly Furious Ales waiting for me in the refrigerator. I think I had better go give them the attention they deserve.
I've been saving the following story for my conclusion. The setting was a rest area at Mile 118 on Interstate 94 about ten miles from New Salem, North Dakota. I filled my water bottles there and took a break. A woman with a young toddler came up to me and asked the usual questions about where I came from, where I was going and why. After I told her my story she told me that she and her husband were bike riders and they have been talking about riding across the country with their kids when they get old enough. "For the rest of their lives," she continued, "the kids will know that if they can accomplish something like that, they can accomplish ANYTHING."
I think THAT is exactly what I learned.
Tomorrow I will post some fun facts about my ride. But for now, there are a couple of Surly Furious Ales waiting for me in the refrigerator. I think I had better go give them the attention they deserve.
 |
| This picture commemorates not only the end of the ride, but also the first beard I have ever grown. |
August 27: Golden Valley, MN
I'm glad Dan told me about the Luce Line Trail. Designed for non-motorized traffic of all kinds, this former railroad track was a great respite from the increasingly heavy traffic as I approached the Twin Cities. It only required a four-mile detour off of Highway 7 into Winsted. From there, I had the 35-mile Luce Line pretty much to myself. The crushed limestone trail was hard, dry and in good condition. I saw two deer early on and only four or five walkers. At least half of the trail was shaded in comparison to the almost 0% shade on the Highway.
Something that caught my attention were the frequent signs telling trail users to clean up after their dogs. The signs told about the diseases that dog feces can give to our children, and they proclaimed "It's The Law." The state even provided the little baggies for the clean-up task.
I was glad to see that the signs are working. I did not see a single dog turd all day. Sadly, however, horses, or should I say horse owners, seem to get a free pass. I saw plenty of horse crap on the trail and that is only on the sections where the horse trail coincides with the biking/jogging/walking trail. Those sections comprise less than 10% of the overall trail. Otherwise, the horse trail is separated and runs parallel to the main trail. I can't imagine how full of horse poop that part of the trail is. I can't imagine how big of baggies you'd need to clean up after those beasts. I can't imagine why horse apples are not a disease threat to children. I can't imagine why the LAW applies only to dog owners.
The Luce Line State Trail takes one into Plymouth, a western suburb of Minneapolis. The Luce Line Metro Trail goes to Minneapolis where one can connect to a series of trails that takes one pretty much throughout the metro area. This will be the last night of my adventure. From my Super 8 Motel in Golden Valley, it is only about 50 miles to my home in Hastings. I don't even know what else to say about that.
Something that caught my attention were the frequent signs telling trail users to clean up after their dogs. The signs told about the diseases that dog feces can give to our children, and they proclaimed "It's The Law." The state even provided the little baggies for the clean-up task.
I was glad to see that the signs are working. I did not see a single dog turd all day. Sadly, however, horses, or should I say horse owners, seem to get a free pass. I saw plenty of horse crap on the trail and that is only on the sections where the horse trail coincides with the biking/jogging/walking trail. Those sections comprise less than 10% of the overall trail. Otherwise, the horse trail is separated and runs parallel to the main trail. I can't imagine how full of horse poop that part of the trail is. I can't imagine how big of baggies you'd need to clean up after those beasts. I can't imagine why horse apples are not a disease threat to children. I can't imagine why the LAW applies only to dog owners.
The Luce Line State Trail takes one into Plymouth, a western suburb of Minneapolis. The Luce Line Metro Trail goes to Minneapolis where one can connect to a series of trails that takes one pretty much throughout the metro area. This will be the last night of my adventure. From my Super 8 Motel in Golden Valley, it is only about 50 miles to my home in Hastings. I don't even know what else to say about that.
Monday, August 26, 2013
August 26: Hutchinson, MN
WILDLIFE UPDATE: I haven't seen a single living large animal since my last day in North Dakota. That was a pair of deer. Since then it has been nothing but birds and rodents. I miss the wildlife of the western United States as much as I miss the mountains and awesome lakeside campsites.
On the other hand, if you count dead animals, central Minnesota has large numbers and good varieties of roadkill: skunks, coyotes, foxes, raccoons, deer, rabbits, opossums, hawks, owls, a prairie chicken, snakes, turtles, caterpillars, dogs and cats. Many of them are so flattened and dried out that they resemble the fur coats or coonskin caps of mountain men. Some of the fresher road kill just look like chunks of meat. Some stink really bad. Some have turkey vultures that pick at them and stubbornly guard them until it is inevitable that they will have to fly away if they want to live.
Today I saw something I may never forget. A deer had been bisected in a collision of such impact that I can't even imagine the violence. There was a head and shoulders and a front leg on the side of the road. The hind quarters were still in the middle of the road about five yards away. I didn't see any sign of the other front leg. Blood and guts were scattered everywhere in between the two parts. The deer's mouth was wide open--as if, just before impact, it was screaming "Ohhhhhh, fuuuuudge!"
Dan repeated his routine today and we met up in Litchfield. Our ride together was great--just as it has been all weekend. In the last month I have only had one or two conversations of any significance, so it was nice to have some company for a few days. Actually, come to think of it, our conversations rarely have any significance, but they're a hell of a lot of fun.
And we had a couple of good meals together at a Chinese restaurant in Montevideo and a very good Mexican restaurant in downtown Willmar. I have to believe Rosita's Taqueria was pretty authentic because every single patron, other than Dan and I, from the beginning to the end of our meal, were Spanish-speaking Mexicans. I had an outstanding meal of grilled shrimp in a garlic (ajo) sauce with tomatoes, freshly sliced avocado, lettuce and corn tortillas.
Tomorrow I will be in the western suburbs of the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area. The next day, I will either stay with Dan and his family in St. Paul or I will power on into Hastings to conclude my personal trip of a lifetime. I don't really want it to end.
On the other hand, if you count dead animals, central Minnesota has large numbers and good varieties of roadkill: skunks, coyotes, foxes, raccoons, deer, rabbits, opossums, hawks, owls, a prairie chicken, snakes, turtles, caterpillars, dogs and cats. Many of them are so flattened and dried out that they resemble the fur coats or coonskin caps of mountain men. Some of the fresher road kill just look like chunks of meat. Some stink really bad. Some have turkey vultures that pick at them and stubbornly guard them until it is inevitable that they will have to fly away if they want to live.
Today I saw something I may never forget. A deer had been bisected in a collision of such impact that I can't even imagine the violence. There was a head and shoulders and a front leg on the side of the road. The hind quarters were still in the middle of the road about five yards away. I didn't see any sign of the other front leg. Blood and guts were scattered everywhere in between the two parts. The deer's mouth was wide open--as if, just before impact, it was screaming "Ohhhhhh, fuuuuudge!"
Dan repeated his routine today and we met up in Litchfield. Our ride together was great--just as it has been all weekend. In the last month I have only had one or two conversations of any significance, so it was nice to have some company for a few days. Actually, come to think of it, our conversations rarely have any significance, but they're a hell of a lot of fun.
And we had a couple of good meals together at a Chinese restaurant in Montevideo and a very good Mexican restaurant in downtown Willmar. I have to believe Rosita's Taqueria was pretty authentic because every single patron, other than Dan and I, from the beginning to the end of our meal, were Spanish-speaking Mexicans. I had an outstanding meal of grilled shrimp in a garlic (ajo) sauce with tomatoes, freshly sliced avocado, lettuce and corn tortillas.
Tomorrow I will be in the western suburbs of the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area. The next day, I will either stay with Dan and his family in St. Paul or I will power on into Hastings to conclude my personal trip of a lifetime. I don't really want it to end.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
August 25: Willmar, MN
"Let's go over to McDonald's for breakfast," Dan suggested once we got moving around for the day. I turned down the offer. I am determined to maintain my record of avoiding all of the fast food burger, taco, and chicken joints. In fact, I haven't eaten at any chain restaurant of any kind except for two Subway sandwiches. I have had great luck eating at small cafes, restaurants and bars.
Later, Dan loaded up his car to drive to our next town, Willmar, where he would start cycling back toward me. It's a goofy system, but it seemed to be the best way for him to get a few days of riding in with me.
"Do you want me to throw some of your gear in the car?" It was another tempting offer.
"No, I don't think so," I said half-heartedly. "It would be awfully nice to ride unburdened for a day, but I guess I just want to preserve the integrity of my self-supported ride."
"Okay. It's up to you."
"But, as you know, I HAVE cheated a couple of times already by accepting those two rides back in Washington," I conceded.
"We-e-e-e-e-l-l-l, I wasn't going to bring that up, but . . . "
I laughed. "Thanks anyway, but I'll just go ahead and haul my own stuff."
On a day the weather people forecast to be nearly 100 degrees, our short route turned out to be ridiculously easy. We arrived at the Willmar Americ-Inn at 1:30 p.m. Knowing that check-in time wasn't for another hour and a half, I told Dan of my plan to play on their sympathy to get into our room early.
"Hi! How can I help you?" asked the gal at the front desk whose jeans hung too low in back, revealing a bit more of her backside than we wanted to see. Actually, I didn't see it. I am just reporting what Dan observed.
"I have a reservation for tonight," I began, "and we got into town a little early. Would it be possible for a couple of overheated and weary bicyclists to get an early check-in?" I held my breath waiting for a negative response.
"Oh sure! No problem!" she said cheerily. It was too easy. I should have asked for food or money.
Ask and you shall receive. It's an old adage that has held up time and time again on this trip.
Later, Dan loaded up his car to drive to our next town, Willmar, where he would start cycling back toward me. It's a goofy system, but it seemed to be the best way for him to get a few days of riding in with me.
"Do you want me to throw some of your gear in the car?" It was another tempting offer.
"No, I don't think so," I said half-heartedly. "It would be awfully nice to ride unburdened for a day, but I guess I just want to preserve the integrity of my self-supported ride."
"Okay. It's up to you."
"But, as you know, I HAVE cheated a couple of times already by accepting those two rides back in Washington," I conceded.
"We-e-e-e-e-l-l-l, I wasn't going to bring that up, but . . . "
I laughed. "Thanks anyway, but I'll just go ahead and haul my own stuff."
On a day the weather people forecast to be nearly 100 degrees, our short route turned out to be ridiculously easy. We arrived at the Willmar Americ-Inn at 1:30 p.m. Knowing that check-in time wasn't for another hour and a half, I told Dan of my plan to play on their sympathy to get into our room early.
"Hi! How can I help you?" asked the gal at the front desk whose jeans hung too low in back, revealing a bit more of her backside than we wanted to see. Actually, I didn't see it. I am just reporting what Dan observed.
"I have a reservation for tonight," I began, "and we got into town a little early. Would it be possible for a couple of overheated and weary bicyclists to get an early check-in?" I held my breath waiting for a negative response.
"Oh sure! No problem!" she said cheerily. It was too easy. I should have asked for food or money.
Ask and you shall receive. It's an old adage that has held up time and time again on this trip.
August 24: Montevideo, MN
My brother Dan joined me today. He will ride with me for three days and then drive back to his home in St. Paul. He parked his car this morning in Montevideo, then rode his bike to Appleton where we met to ride back to Montevideo. He absolutely flew the 23 miles to Appleton thanks to the 20 mile per hour thing that I can no longer mention. When he had to turn around and ride back, he blamed ME for the difference. "I was doing just fine until I started riding with you," he said.
I have to admit that the time and the difficulty were alleviated by having somebody to talk to. I usually prefer to be a loner and go at my own pace and do exactly what I want to do when I want to do it. But I think we rode well together.
Scenic highlights were few today. Highway 7 is known as the Sioux Trail Scenic Byway and it does display a lot of undeveloped native prairie land. Between Odessa and Appleton, I saw several uninterrupted miles of cattails. The strangest thing Dan and I saw were two stray cornstalks growing inches from the shoulder of the highway. Some corn farmer has quite a sense of humor.
I have to admit that the time and the difficulty were alleviated by having somebody to talk to. I usually prefer to be a loner and go at my own pace and do exactly what I want to do when I want to do it. But I think we rode well together.
Scenic highlights were few today. Highway 7 is known as the Sioux Trail Scenic Byway and it does display a lot of undeveloped native prairie land. Between Odessa and Appleton, I saw several uninterrupted miles of cattails. The strangest thing Dan and I saw were two stray cornstalks growing inches from the shoulder of the highway. Some corn farmer has quite a sense of humor.
August 23: Big Stone Lake State Park
South Dakota Highway 10 took me past several more lakes which I was not expecting to see. However, the biggest surprise, possibly of this entire trip, came a few miles before Sisseton. I had been going up and down gently rolling hills for the fifteen miles since I left Roy Lake and I had no reason to think that it wouldn't continue. Then I came to the top of the last hill and I was stunned. It is possible that my eyeballs popped out of my head like in a Roadrunner cartoon. There, before me, was an amazingly dramatic view of the Red River valley several hundred feet below. It was broad and flat and extended as far as the eye could see. It was like rising up over a bluff and suddenly and unexpectedly discovering the Pacific Ocean. Certainly not the most beautiful thing I have seen, it was definitely, as I said, the most surprising. And the four mile descent into the valley was probably my longest since the Glacier National Park area.
I also went over my second continental divide. At the South Dakota/Minnesota border, near Brown's Valley, MN, is the North/South Continental Divide. It is a curious thing. You ride over a sort of land bridge and on one side is Lake Traverse and on the other side is Big Stone Lake. Lake Traverse becomes the Red River which flows north to Canada. Big Stone Lake becomes the Minnesota River which flows south. I think that's how it works.
While I enjoyed my excursion through the northeast corner of South Dakota, I have to admit that using it as part of my scheme to avoid the wind really backfired on me today. The winds are blowing in from the southeast and I have no choice to go south or east. It was my hardest day of riding yet, especially the last 20 miles in which I had to go straight southeast. The gusts were horrific and when a truck would come from the opposite direction, the blast in my face was unbelievable.
I have to apologize. If I was reading this blog, I'd be saying "enough with your wind reports! Just move on." That is a fair comment, and I promise not to bring up that damn wind again. I don't care if it's a tornado, I will not mention it again.
Speaking of tornados, I just remembered a whirlwind back in eastern Washington that I never reported on this blog. It was twisting and whipping up the dry dust that makes up that part of the state and it was approaching the highway. I distinctly remember thinking "that thing is gonna hit the road at the same time as I get there."
Indeed, the whirlwind hit me and I had to lean into it for fear of getting blown over, and I'm guessing that thing would have only registered as an F-.00001 tornado.
THAT, officially, is my LAST wind report.
I am in my home state now, safely encamped at Big Stone Lake State Park. It is only 50-54% as nice as last night's park, but it will do. Across the lake I still see South Dakota.
I also went over my second continental divide. At the South Dakota/Minnesota border, near Brown's Valley, MN, is the North/South Continental Divide. It is a curious thing. You ride over a sort of land bridge and on one side is Lake Traverse and on the other side is Big Stone Lake. Lake Traverse becomes the Red River which flows north to Canada. Big Stone Lake becomes the Minnesota River which flows south. I think that's how it works.
While I enjoyed my excursion through the northeast corner of South Dakota, I have to admit that using it as part of my scheme to avoid the wind really backfired on me today. The winds are blowing in from the southeast and I have no choice to go south or east. It was my hardest day of riding yet, especially the last 20 miles in which I had to go straight southeast. The gusts were horrific and when a truck would come from the opposite direction, the blast in my face was unbelievable.
I have to apologize. If I was reading this blog, I'd be saying "enough with your wind reports! Just move on." That is a fair comment, and I promise not to bring up that damn wind again. I don't care if it's a tornado, I will not mention it again.
Speaking of tornados, I just remembered a whirlwind back in eastern Washington that I never reported on this blog. It was twisting and whipping up the dry dust that makes up that part of the state and it was approaching the highway. I distinctly remember thinking "that thing is gonna hit the road at the same time as I get there."
Indeed, the whirlwind hit me and I had to lean into it for fear of getting blown over, and I'm guessing that thing would have only registered as an F-.00001 tornado.
THAT, officially, is my LAST wind report.
I am in my home state now, safely encamped at Big Stone Lake State Park. It is only 50-54% as nice as last night's park, but it will do. Across the lake I still see South Dakota.
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