First Leg

My bicycle is packed and I’m ready to leave Minneapolis for my solo trip back to the coast. The rest of the trip will have little resemblance to the first two weeks I spent traveling with Sartell. We did a fair job of hitting just about every bar along the way. Hey, it was hot the first week and later when the weather was crappy and the headwinds crushed our spirits, we needed every bit of help we could get just to keep going.

We set out on June 21 and for the four days and 228 miles it took to get to Walker, the temperature climbed every day. On the first day we didn’t stop for beer until late in the day, but as the temperature and the miles piled up, we began to stop earlier every day for our necessary fluids. There was Chico’s, the Trophy Bar—where we learned a lot about fishing and Kamikazes—the Blue Goose Inn which was the scene of shenanigans involving several members of the Minnesota Vikings football team, and the Green Lantern just to name a few.

The miles between Garrison and Brainerd were brutal. Headwinds and temps in the upper 80s, with the only relief being beer at the Green Lantern and a photo stop at the statue of Babe the Blue Ox. Paul Bunyan was nowhere to be found. It seems they moved the famed statues of Paul and Babe from Brainerd and no one we asked knew what happened to Paul. I suppose I’ll have to watch “Fargo” again when I get home and pretend that I was there.

Brainerd was the location of the trailhead of the Paul Bunyan trail, which is a paved path stretching more than 100 miles north to Bemidji. We only used 78 miles of the trail, which sounds bizarre in a country where bicycle trails of that length are almost as rare as hen’s teeth. According to the guy at Penn Cyclery, the shop around the corner from Sartell’s place, Minnesota has more than 1300 miles of paved trails. On our trip, we used at least 200 miles of them. If only a few more states were willing to commit resources to those kinds of trails, we could change the way we view transportation in this country. But I guess that’s a silly dream in the land of interstate freeways and Nascar.

Our first night on the Paul Bunyan Trail was spent in a little tourist town called Nisswa. I enjoyed my first helping of deep-fried pickles and some delicious peach schnapps drinks. As we sat in the Olde Pickle Inn, I had my first earful of Minnesota politics. A man was sitting at the end of the bar complaining about the “bullshit war” for oil and profit that’s going on in Iraq. He also claimed that WWII was the last “good” war and every one since has been for the profit of a handful of people.

Over breakfast the next morning, I heard a bunch of golfers complaining that they were unhappy with the way the country is being run unto the ground by the Bush Administration. “I’ve been a lifelong Republican,” said one particularly bellicose man. “I won’t vote Republican in the next election, I can tell you that.”

It was heartening talk to listen to, but I must have had too many peach schnapps the night before, because when we left Nisswa, my camera stayed behind at the motel and I didn’t realize it until we were about 20 miles down the road.

During our three day stay in Walker, we managed to hit every bar and restaurant in town. Pepper’s was right down the hill from our room on the lake, so we went down to the bar and had a beer as we watched the sun set on the lake. It was nice and warm outside and the outdoor bar had a tropical feel, except there were no palm trees and we had to run for cover when the mosquitoes came out. Well, I had to run for cover. Sartell was dressed sensibly in blue jeans and I learned then why he travels in denim rather than lycra.

Sartell’s sister Renee gave us a personalized historic tour of Walker. She’s the curator of the local museum, which has been chopped in half to make room for a state liquor store. It’s a really ugly story of development and the sacrifice of history to make room for what’s generally termed “progress.” My time in Walker showed me the economic threats that may eventually destroy small-town America. On the upside of the story, a team of economic development experts has advised a long-term project to build a multi-use trail around Leech Lake, and a focus on getting the hoards of Minnesota cyclists to use the many existing trails to visit Walker and the surrounding area.

During our tour, we stopped at a bar called Huddle’s for refreshment and a respite from the damn mosquitoes. As I drank my beer, the bartender looked at the tattoo on my left wrist. After complimenting me on the tattoo she said, “I do tattoos in Walker if you’re interested in getting another one.”

I’ve been thinking about getting a bicycle-themed tattoo for a few years and the convergence of things was just too rich for me to pass up. The day before we left Walker I went to Welaya’s studio above the Beehive hair salon, and for two hours we joked around and listened to a thunderstorm as she did a great freehand tattoo on my right wrist in honor of “Tour ’05.” If you ever find yourself in Walker wanting a tattoo, I highly recommend Welaya and the Beehive.

This is a brief overview of the first leg of the trip. Unfortunately, I don’t have an editor with me, so it may be a little rough. I’ll post more as soon as I find another computer. Any feedback from the people I’ve come in contact with along the road would be appreciated.

It’s time once again to hit the road.