paddling oles!

On the shores of Lake Superior, in Grand Marais, pronounced Grand Moray, the sun is shining, the winds calm, and the water is colder than pretty much any water in which we have ever dipped our toes... We have stumbled upon some of the best luck of the trip thus far; but first a short account of the past few days --

As we pulled through Hibbing, MN we rode right past Bob Dylan's childhood house. It was, well, a house, but we decided to take a snap shot of the place just to say we had been there. On the way out of town Mark said, "Shall we make like Bob Dylan... and leave Hibbing?!" Funny thing is that the community celebrates the guy like he never left all while Bob acts like he was never there in the first place. Another cool thing about Hibbing is that the whole town of 15,000 people moved the whole town of some 500 buildings, houses, etc a few miles down the road to allow the mine to continue its expansive pit mining operations. While there we visited a museum with old mining machines/tires/dumptrucks. Pretty big wheels. A small portion of the old town is left including side walks, lightposts, stairways, trees, curbs, and even a few benches -- but no buildings anywhere. Basically, they made it into a park. Pretty wild, huh?

From Hibbing we continued along the Mesabi Trail (!!!) through the Iron Range. The trail was amazing and beautifully maintained. Every ten miles or so would be another small, old, unique town and along the way would be old reclaimed slag piles from the years and years of mining. We were indeed spoiled. For all our Minnesota friends, we highly (!!) reccommend a day or two riding this trail. It is too cool to miss. This time of year made for a beautiful ride and we could only imagine how sweet it is in the fall.

Wild flowers are out of control. Every where we ride we hit huge patches of daisies, irises, and lupin. This especially started getting out of control (OOC) when we started riding near and along the North Shore of Lake Superior. We spent a night at our own private beach in Tettegouche State Park. There wasn't much drinking water (only 1.5 miles away) and a few mosquitos, but shoot, to watch the sunrise on the shores of Lake Superior, and see the early morning sunshine on the huge bluffs, was definitely worth it.

You can check out the bike trail at www.mesabitrail.com/

The next morning we got up good and early to ride along Highway 61 up to Grand Marais. Enter the paddling part -- check out www.campwarren.org/menogyn.asp

At Camp Menogyn, a small, super sweet adventure camp, Mark has spent the past six summers camping, canoeing, and finally as a canoe master, rebuilding canoes and maintaining the fleet. We headed up to Grand Marais, the town on the shore, some 30 miles down trail from his camp. Mark called one of his buddies in hopes of a quick visit, perhaps in town, and if really lucky, maybe at camp.

Enter amazing luck.

Turns out, that when one expects nothing, anything is sweet. Also turns out that a night at a canoe camp followed by a night on a sail boat is sweet no matter what. As we rode into town Mark called one of the campers just to see if there was any chance of a friend being in town.

The entire camp was down in town for a picnic and were very happy to have us all over for food and talk of adventures. Afterwards we got to go visit the camp and spend the night on the lake. What a fantastic place. You park your car, after three miles of dirt road, and then canoe across the lake to camp -- no roads in to this one. It was a wonderful experience to finally put images to all the names of people, images to all the names of places, and images to all the stories Mark had told us. We spent the night, had breakfast, and then got to go for a morning paddle around the lake. Not to bad for a bunch of bicyclists...

Enter even more luck.

After a great breakfast (cheers to the Menogyn cooks), we started to chat with Paul, the camp director. Turns out Paul has a sail boat harbored in Grand Marais. Turns out Paul likes to have friends chill on his boat. Turns out we don't have to find a campsite this evening. Yup. We get to chill on the boat this afternoon and then this evening snooze there too! Pretty sweet, huh? Yup, we don't expect much and when it rains, it pours. That sailboat in the top picture, well, just try to imagine four people with great tanlines chilling on the deck with a coke in hand.

Looking forward, we will be in the Twin Cities area starting June 27. From there it is off to a wedding in Chicago and then over to Iowa City. For now however, we have some heavy duty chilling on deck (no punn intended.)

Over and out--

Kelly, Elizabeth, Caleb, and Mark

When in Hibbing...

do like Bob Dylan?

Here we are in Hibbing, MN, the birthplace of Robert "Bob Dylan" Zimmerman and Grey Hound Busses. The beautiful town of 17,000 people sits nestled in the reclaimed slag piles from one of the largest open pit iron mines in the world.

Last time we left ya'll we were at the border into Minnesota at Grand Forks, ND. We had a wonderful stay with Mark's grandmother and definitely left slightly overwight from the whole ordeal. As we pulled out of town we crossed the Red River and made sure to take a photo of the flood monument -- a marker for the different times of high water. We quickly understood as to how devastating the flood in 1997 was after seeing how high the water had actually gone. At the Minnesota border we all decided that our bikes (their names are Thelma, Chester, Shelby, and Archimedes) hadn't got enough attention and so took a snap shot with them and the border sign. Four states down, only like sixteen-ish to go.

From Gramma's house we had the option of either camping in Climax, MN or Fertile, MN. We decided to go with the more advantageous (depending on how you look at it) and headed east into Fertile. It was a great town of 632 and after a day of riding into the wind with 90% humidity we were ready to call 'er quits after 65 miles. From there we made haste to Lake Itaska State Park.

Lake Itaska, as it turns out, is the most used campground in the state of Minnesota. A seemingly endless web of bike paths wound around the lake and people everywhere were on bicycles. The only thing that makes this lake slightly more special than any other lake in Minnesota is that it is the headwaters to the mighty Mississippi River. At the headwaters is a nice little rock path that crosses the tiny stream to start the river. The funny thing is that it is a complete farse -- in the 30's people decided that rather than the boggy outlet of lake Itaska, the Mississippi river, in all is grandeur needed a specific, scenic starting point. After only 1,800 truck loads of sand, the bog was filled in, the stream designed, and a concrete damn decorated with "as natural looking as possible" polished river boulders, we now have a pin-pointed beginning of our nations beloved river.

Pretty sweet, huh?

From the park we started working our way over west to Grand Rapids. We had 135 miles to cover, pretty much all of it on sweet, sweet highway with nice shoulders. Both North Dakota and Minnesota have treated us with very nice shoulders.

En route to Grand Rapids we stopped in Bemidji, MN -- the birthplace of Paul Bunyan as well as his gigantic blue ox, Babe. We asked the guy if he would mind to pose for a snap shot with us. He obliged in a taciturne sort of way...

The following day, in Grand Rapids, we decided it would be a good day to muster up a few free donuts and so headed to church. Any church would do. As it turned out, our choices boiled down to the 10:00 service at the Presbeterian Church or the 10:15 service at the Bible Babtist Church. It was 9:58 and thus the decision was made to be loyal Presbeterians, all four of us, for the day. We met a wonderful congregation who welcomed us warmly afterwards into the basement for cookies and coffee. It was really cool talking with so many people who wished us well, wished they could come along, or told us of their own experiences as well. Turns out the Paster, Dan, rode his bike from Seattle to San Diego. Also turns out a few Ole grads were members of the post worship donut team. Afterwards we headed to the grocery store where we bumped in to the Lyon family, who we had earlier met at church. We talked for quite a while and in the end they left us speachless when a small donation to the trip was folded tightly into Elizabeth's hand. What wonderful people we have met thus far.

Upon leaving Grand Rapids we entered the Iron Range. Since the late 1800's mining has ruled the entire region of the state. The really cool thing about it all is that all the now closed mines, pits, and slag piles have been reclaimed, quite beautifully, with an 91 mile long bike trail (soon to be 131 miles)(!) For the past day and a half we have woven around huge man made lakes (what was once the open pit mines) on amazingly smooth 8' wide paths of black top. When there are marshes to cross, we encounter floating bridges. It is great. Happier than pigs in mud, for sure.

The next few days will be spent heading over to the north shore of Lake Superior. From there we will head up to Grand Marias and then down the shore to the Twin Cities.

Happy father's day to all the dads and grandpas that made this trip possible. Love to all of you.

Pedaling along,
Kelly, Elizabeth, Mark, and Caleb

Yeah for Grandma Judy!

Big shout out to Gus, our long-lost travel companion. He inspired us with a psuedo-mandatory happy hour, strong coffee, and nonstop teasing of Elizabeth. This photo was taken in Shelby, Montana, as he headed back to the real world. Smell you later, G-dawg.

BTW,
Yeah for Grandma Judy!

We are now kickin' it in Grand Forks, ND with Mark's grandmother. Quite possibly the coolest grandma ever (of course next to our own wonderful respective grandmothers (of course)).

The past four days have been filled with very moody riding. The first two with 30 mph headwinds, rain, and cold. The following two days changed to the polar opposite and brought us the absolute elation(!) of sunshine and a breeze from the rear (especially after a half-gallon of milk, twice daily, and Elizabeth's lactose intolerance...).

As we pulled out from Minot and hopped onto good ol' highway 2, we stumbled upon this sign to a fishing access. It was somewhere inbetween miserable and middle of nowhere -- good luck finding this one on the map. We had no idea that Bjorn Berg, another St. Olaf mathematics buddy, could have such power over the US Fish and Wildlife Dept... We shoved into the wind for close to seven hours, covering a miserable 69 miles. The wind never ceased, the clouds never broke, and all four of us started thinking of the thousand other things we would have rather been doing... This day of bliss was a Saturday, which really doesn't matter all that much except for the fact that we had a package to pick up, General Delivery, in Rugby, ND. Good thing the wind was blowing and the office closed at 2:30 pm. We called ahead to let them know we would be late, perhaps a half an hour late or so. We pulled in three hours late and in the small town of 872, Kelly rode right past the head pastmaster at a garage sale on main street. What luck, huh? Yup.

Some small towns claim odd bits of fame such as "World's largest string ball" or "North America's biggest fiberglass cow" etc. Well Rugby is the fortunate town of North America to be blessed with the "Geological Center of North America" award.

The next day of amazingly inspirational (!) head-wind led us to a small town named Minnewauken, on the SW corner of Devil's Lake. Both of those days we averaged 10.9 mph. Slowpokey. The oddest thing about the ride that day was the crossing of Devil's Lake. Turns out that the folk of ND don't like to bother with any of that "put a road around the lake" nonsense. Nope. Just plow right through the whole pond and stick a road where ever it needs to go. Same goes for the railroad too, by gosh. And so we pedaled right through the lake, a lake some twenty miles across, on a two lane highway with a two foot shoulder, a few rocks, and then water.

The small towns of North Dakota have kept us all very intrigued as to how well they are all maintained. Every town, even the ones of some 300 people are in prestine condition with at least five or six victorian style homes and emaculate yards. Two days ago, as we pulled out from Minnewauken (which is Mandan for "spirit water") the sun was shining, the clouds few and far between, and thanks be to God, not a lick of wind. We worked it all the way to Lakota for a gigantic lunch (one load of bread, one pound of ham, 1/2 lb cheese, a rather large bag of potato chips, 1/2 gallon chocolate milk, four tomatoes, two avocados, and two lbs. of grapes) and a short nap. We then decided to ride down the road another ten miles to camp in Michigan. Such a bad idea. It was hard to breath we were so full.

Earlier that morning, while we were outside of WalMart, (we definitely bought two lbs. of "fun size" candy) Elizabeth found $20 under a bush. While some would say, "great! we just paid off part of our hotel expenses!" Liz promptly looked up and asked, "G&Ts for dinner tonight, guys?" Yes, G&Ts, indeed.

After a great stay in Michigan, ND, we shoved off for our final push to Grandma's. Fourth floor of the Columbia Park Towers never looked so good... We arrived only moments before the bronze 1993 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme slid into the parking lot. She was happier than a pig in mud to see us and insisted that our bicycles take over both the two indoor parking slots she had reserved especially for her "grandson and his friends."

As we walked into the condo we noticed a fully set dinner table. With a cake! Yeah for Grandma Judy. The past two days go into the category of "super sweet quality time" with Grandma. Last night we all went to Al's Dinner to fulfill our 4:45 pm dinner reservation and then off to see "A Prairie Home Companion" at the movie theater. We have been contuously fed to darn near the point of explosion. And it all tasted so good...

Today has been a good day of rest -- and lots of food. Good thing we are all wearing spandex and not clothing that actually is supposed to fit ('cause it won't!). Tomorrow we plan on riding to the head waters of the Mississippi, Lake Itasca, and then off to Lake Superior's North Shore. We hope to land in the Twin Cities by the 27th-ish-of-June-ish (stress the -ish part).

That's all for now -- we hope y'all are enjoying reading along as much as we are enjoying riding along.

Until next time,

Kelly, Caleb, Mark, and Elizabeth & Grandma Judy in Grand Forks, ND

PS: New pictures are up. Keep those comments coming!

Vegas in Minot

Howdy folks --
Today has turned into a most definite "False Start." After celebrating Kelly's birthday for the fourth time, we packed our bags and sadly pulled out of the "Little Vegas" Motel and rode into the rain to continue our unfinished business at the Minot State University Library. We needed to blog. Badly. In a sort of rainy day, cold weather, windy conditions, slight tickle behind the eyeballs way. Yup. We were dragging. And as it turns out, we don't think we will actually make it out of Minot today. Lets just call this one a "do-over" free day. Only one permitted per bike trip. We just used ours up. So soon, after the blogging ritual, we will pedal back up the hill, past the airport, and into our $40 per night hotel, complete with a pair of dice painted on the pool floor. It is our first hotel stay so far -- not too shabby.

Anyway --

Five nights ago we were kicking it in Glasgow, Montana. We pulled in early and decided it would be a good idea to watch a movie. Robin Williams, in all his hairy glory, provided great afternoon entertainment in the film, RV. Turned out that the only other person in the whole theater was a bike enthusiast as well as the wife of the local Civic Center Director (as well as proud mother of nine boys!!) We got to pitch our tents in the park, right next to the pool, and sneak in the back door of the civic center for bathrooms and showers. It was great. Thanks Kathy and Dennis! The other thing that was great about Glasgow was the deal at Albertson's. Four cinnamon rolls for a buck. We definitely spent five dollars on cinnamon rolls that day.

The next morning we pulled out of Glasgow at an early 8:45 am with the intent of finding a nice place to camp some 60 miles down the way. The wind was at our backs, the heat simmered down, and the landscape was beautiful; especially the bluffs carved by the Missouri River. (picutures soon to be posted) Of course there would be a nice place to pull out along the way, right? Wrong. The reservation around Poplar and Wolf Point was slightly less than wholesome and so we just kept on pedaling until we landed in Culbertson, MT -- 115 miles down the road from where we started for the day. (fyi: that is a lot of miles) By the time we finally landed everything was closed, save for the gas station/convenience store. The only food they had to offer was chocolate milk, Mac and Cheese, and four "freshly" fried paper dishes full of "jo-jo" fries. That was our dinner. Well, that and our daily mens' multi-vitamin. (those take place of salads)

We bumped into a guy named Dan who had been riding alone since St. Louis, MO. Great guy, super cool, worked for Boeing, blinder than a bat, told great stories -- just a real nice guy. Yup, couldn't see a damn thing. Macular Degeneration had lost him his driver's license some twenty years ago and so he took to riding his bicycle instead. He was headed to meet an Adventure Cycling group in Great Falls, MT to continue on the Lewis and Clark path all the way to Astoria, Oregon. Keep on spinning, Dan!

Every day we are blown away by the friendliness of totaly random people. As Mark and Kelly were headed to the grocery store that morning in Culbertson, a woman with a beautiful, 100 lb. St. Bernard named Dolly invited us in for breakfast. All four of us. The woman and her husband had a farm outside of town and liked chatting with people that camped in the park across the street from their home. They take in foster children from the nearby reservation and love the children like their own. Let it be known that there is a special place in heaven for Jim and Evelyn, of Culbertson, MT. Turns out she was an alumnus of Elizabeth's school, Bellarmine Prep, in Tacoma, WA. She fell in love with a Montana boy and got dragged away from her home state and never looked back. Hum.... sounds familiar. Montana boy, Tacoma girl.

Off to Williston for a home stay with Jan Joseph, quite possibly the coolest woman in the world (aside from our respective mothers, of course). We called her up the morning of and were welcomed with open arms to a beautiful home and two amazing dogs. George and Annie. English Pitbulls. We needn't say more.













Our stay with Jan was wonderful -- it was a great opportunity to do laundry, rest our legs, eat well, and for Kelly and Jan some time to catch up on things. The best thing about these dogs was their personality, or complete inability to supress their personality. They were like dealing with slighltly autistic two-year old boys. Especially George. While we sat down to eat dinner the table constantly shook due to the dogs "playing" below. Because of their very high tolerance
for pain, nice playing quickly goes back and forth between gnawing on limbs/faces/sandals/waterbottles and drooling. What delights.

The next day we pulled out from Jan's and headed on down to New Town, ND. It was a long day with heavy headwinds and side winds full of not-so blissful work and tons of heat. When we landed in New Town, we decided to move on a few more miles down the road to a bar known as the Scenic 23. New Town was slightly more wholesome than Poplar and we didn't feel entirely awesome about camping in the city park. So why not go down the highway another seven miles and camp behind a bar in the middle of no where!? Much safer. We enjoyed a few cold Pabst Blue Ribbons, listened to some Kenny Chesney on the juke box, and then happily settled down behind the bar. (in our tents, after brushing our teeth, of course). Shout out to Clayton, Gail, that kid on the sweet bike, Faith and her friend, and the Catholic Grocery Store Family (pop. 36).

The next morning was our final push before a day (or two...) off. We pushed through 20 mph winds for five and a half hours, making slightly more than 60 miles of progress. All of us were definitely ready for a break. As we pulled into town, Caleb and Kelly picked up a new set of panniers at the local UPS Store. The original panniers were not doing so well and after a call or two with our friends at Detours Panniers, we had an entirely new set waiting for us, ready to ride. What great folks. From there we headed staight to the Gold Star China Buffet. Nine bucks a person, all you can eat, China buffet and Mongolian Grill. We were happier than pigs in mud. Each of us consumed at least five times the recommended amount of chinese buffet-style food alloted per year. The only real trouble with the whole deal was the three-mile ride, up hill, to the little slice of heaven called The Vegas. Oh man, that was a painful ride. But so worth it. It hurt so good. Fourty bucks a night, soft beds, and a shower. Kelly took two showers that night. Just because he could.

Well, it is officially 1:30 pm here in Minot and we haven't made it too far. Perhaps a movie and one more night in the motel would be of order. So much for our well intended goals of leaving by 7:30 am. Oh well.

Tomorrow we will have the camera cord and be able to put up pictures, so have no fear, the great snap shots are near.

Until next time --

Kelly, Elizabeth, Mark, and Caleb over and out

A Different Kind of Pretty

Two days have now past and we are kicking it in the genuine Metropolitan Hub of the West. Yup. Malta, Montana. Today was the third solid day of riding on nothing but Highway 2 and we are all slowly developing an odd love for this straight, boring, hot, windy, dusty, miserable excuse for a two lane highway. But here we are and in this territory we don't have too many choices for other roads. Luckily, we are in constant awe, be it a bit forced, of this "different kind of pretty" as Kelly claims. At least its flat.

The first of four days of this "different kind of pretty" (?) started out in East Glacier as we made our way over to Shelby. East Glacier was amazing and the view of the mountains was visible for two days worth of riding. Every time we looked over our shoulder we saw the mountains looming in the distance. Plus, we had a sweet backwind and 60 degree sunshine. In an effort to curb Liz's moaning, Kelly proclaimed, "The eastern side of Montana is a different kind of pretty." Sure the land east of East Glacier is flat and barren, but the Meadow Larks are singing in full force, the hill sides growing green, and the cactus flowering. That was four days ago.

The past three days have been hot. Windy. Ugly. And most definitely a "different kind of pretty." Good thing we only have 14 more days of this little slice of heaven to ride.

After departing from Gus, we ultimately landed in Gildford -- a town of 180 people. The local park was maintained by the neighbors and a mail box acted as the donation bin for campers passing through. The sweetest part of it all was the self-proclaimed keeper of the peace; a 70 year-old codger driving around in his ancient Ford half-ton with a rifle barrel resting out the diver side window, the butt resting in his lap. That evening our buddy from MSU made a six hour pilgrimage and met us along the highway into town. We made dinner and chatted into the evening before he turned around a drove all the way back to Bozeman. Luke Shorty, you are the man.

Last night was a blissful evening camping just outside the town pool in Harlem. The bugs were bad, but the city pool was open and filled with a record number of kids. After riding through a 95 degree day, the cool water was sweeter than most things in this world. Caleb and Kelly jumped right in wearing biking shorts, much to the delight and derision of the young Harlemites (We got made fun of!).

Today we have landed in Malta, Montana. For sure the heat is getting on our nerves. Good thing it is only getting hotter... We called it quits at noon after riding for just shy of five hours, into the wind, fifty miles and then read on the bank that it was again 95 degrees. Hott.

Up here in Malta, a mere 60 miles from the 49th parallel, the days are longer than one would expect. It is only completely dark at 10:30 pm and then bright again by 4:45 am. Tomorrow, in an effort to beat the heat, we'll try to leave by 5:30 or 6:00. We'll see how well that one works out...

Sorry for the lack of pictures this time folks, but Liz accidentally sent the camera cable home with Gus. Shmeh. We'll pick it up general delivery in Minot, ND and then we'll be back in the picture posting bidness. Besides, just imagine the most boring stretch ever of a "different kind of pretty" and then take out anything interesting from that image and you'll know what's going on in Northern Montana.

Over and out, and most surely pedaling along,

Kelly, Liz, Caleb and Mark

QED