Good Riddance,Good Bye, Minnesota

 We made the early morning crossing from one side of the river to the campground on the other side where we could utilize their tables and power plugs. I was crossing my fingers that the bacon we had bought a week earlier was still edible, although it was still packaged, it had not known refrigeration since it had left the checkout many miles upriver.  There was cyclist there, I noticed his panniers and gear setting out on the gazebo tables. It instantly reminded me of last year’s ride, and for a moment, I was slightly envious that he was on a bicycle.  His name was Gregg, recently retired and on the second half of a two year tour across the states. Last year he cycled from Seattle to Hastings, MN, this year, he is going from Hastings to Boston. We chatted for bit, and exchanged info, and then I cautiously opened the package of bacon.

                I can’t say that it was entirely fresh, but it didn’t smell like death incarnate. I put the warm fatty strips on the hot pan. They cooked normal and looked just as good as any bacon bought fresh.  I cooked mine as crispy as toby’s and took a bite. In my opinion, it tasted a little more cured than normal, but still good.  Hours later though… We felt fine. No severe abdominal cramps, no blowouts on either end, no turning the canoe to shore. Most of the day was spent fighting headwinds and dodging barges, so basically, a normal day on the Mississippi.  We arrived at a lock where a barge was waiting and went to shore to gather some snacks form the only gas station we have seen in days. Walking over I noticed a familiar van. “Bicycle America”, was stenciled on the windows, the last time I saw this company I was cycling through the fridge cascades. This company offers staffed and supported cross country ride across America, this time they were head from New Orleans to St. Paul.  Once again, I couldn’t help but be envious of the string of bikers speeding by me.  Leaving the gas station, two more cyclists sped south. I yelled, “New Orleans?”, “Yea man!, you?”, “Yea!, but on a canoe!”, they yelled back, “Right on man, and gave me fist pump as they sped away.”

                The highlight of the day was finally leaving Minnesota. For 23 or so days, they all blend together; we have been in this massive state.  We stopped paddling and let the current take us across the state line, a simple brown sign indicating one side as Iowa, the other Minnesota. I secretly wished someone had put balloons and streamers celebrating our simple accomplishment, but no, only a headwind cheered for us. However, it was refressing to say goodbye to the cold, to the wretched lakes, the long stretches of wilderness, and the marshes, oh joy, good bye marshes. 

                We entered a part of the river where the banks were steep on every bank, only a train track wound its way around the edges. We looked at our phones and service dwindled from 3 bars, to 2, then to no service at all. It was getting late and we had already paddled 2 hours without seeing a good place to camp, the Islands being flooded by high water and the banks being too steep for a tent and in path of blazing freight trains.  As the sun went down, we found a muddy bank in a patch of woods to finally pitch our tents. I looked at my phone, no service, and knew it would be night of worry for my wife and our mothers.  We ate our ramen noodles, swatted our mosquito quota, and crawled in our tent to wait for night by reading.

                We were awoken in the middle of the night by a combination of deer snorting around us, and freight trains seemingly bulldozing their way through the tracks in the forest nearby. The latter which startled Toby awake, and according to him, a cacophony I just snored through.  We woke up to a calm river laden with a thick fog, the next lock and dam was nearby and we cut a path through water straight too it. Again, today, we encountered a steady headwind, which pushed our speed far below what we desired. We paddled for 11 hours, and only managed to travel 36 or so miles. We broke up the time by paddling in various poses, on our butts, on our knees, cross legged, and so on. I made the suggestion that we do some yoga poses, but that idea was prudently shut down.  Tonight we are staying in Guttenburg, IA. Again, we hope the police allow us to camp in the small park by the river. Once again, stay tuned.

Edit: As I was typing this blog inside this subway, a cop car pulled up to the front door. Out hops toby from the passnger side and he comes inside, I give a perplexed look. Toby looked more than excited to have gotten a ride from the park, but then he said "Hey man we got a free hotel!" "Wait, what? Hotel? FREE?" How?, apparently, instead of letting us sleep in the park, the police are using their "relief fund" to put us up for the night in a hotel. This trip never fails to surprise me.