Seg #31 Paul Bunyan Trail; S of Brainerd-Bemidji, MN 10/11-12/13

 

Start	S of Brainerd, MN			46.32485,-94.20749		NS miles 79.6
End	Bemidji, MN			47.48771,-94.87906		Trl lgth 112 Ride 109 miles
Ride 10:16 hr		AVS 10.4	MXS 18.5 mph		DST 109		T 68/46	Kcal 8087

 After driving to Brainerd the previous night and crashing at the American Best Value Inn, I got up, ate a hearty breakfast and then rode three miles north from the motel north to assure I would have overlapping latitude with the Willard Munger Trail at Willow River. In the process, I located Micki’s Pizza and Subs where the Jefferson Bus Line unloaded. Lucky me the Brainerd Public Library was directly across the street.  I locked the Trek to the rack at the library and used a smaller chain lock to fix my seat and rear luggage rack. Both of these items have quick release devices that can tempt someone to heist them. Locking the seat gave me solace that I would have something to sit on while pumping up the 100+ mile Paul Bunyan Trail.

By 8:30 a.m. I was on the road to Bemidji to leave my car and take the bus back to Brainerd. I had purchased my ticket online so all I had to do was locate the John Glass Fieldhouse at Bemidji State University for an 11:15 a.m. bus pick-up. The bus ride was straight forward other than a major traffic jam due to road construction.  As I looked out the window, I could see darkening of the western skies. “Hurry up bus---I don’t want to ride in the rain”, I said to myself. 

The bus got into Brainerd forty-five minutes behind schedule. I went straight to the library and asked a likely looking bicycle rider how I could find the Paul Bunyan Trailhead,. It is worthy of note that I purposely avoided asking the grey haired seventy something librarian that question. After stammering around a bit, the guy I thought would know was beginning to worry me. “Another Cush’s Theorem causality in the making “, I thought.  He finally said, “Maybe you ought to ask that lady”.

PBT trailhead that the librarian lady directed me
to find with precisions. It started raining shortly
after departing from Brainerd. Note raingear :-)

Again I thought, Not the seventy something lady surely?”  The seventy something lady overheard us and started drawing me a map. She put an “X” on the map and drew in streets and paths as accurately as a National Geographic cartographer. She was “spot on”. Now I need to retract my bias toward old ladies as a source of directions. Cush’s Theorem run amuck.

I got on the trail about three o’clock and was into the ride about forty-five minutes when the dreariness’ set in.

At Misswa the rain stopped for a few minutes
so I just had to take this picture that reminded
me of Shamus (see previous post)

It was drizzling and getting colder. It was sixty eight degrees at noon but that changed. From my back pack, I dug out my rain suit and wore it the rest of the way to Pine River. I had reserved a motel in Pine River so I had a warm place to unload my soggy clothes. The rain wasn’t as big a deal as it was sweat---non-breathing raingear is not the best option.  GoreTex is the material of choice to keep dry. I turned up the head and laid everything out to dry. By the time I got back from a steak at nearby restaurant, the wet stuff was dry. I love the way bike clothes dry.

I was up with the birds and ready to hit the trail by 7 a.m. It was a bit dark when I took off on the trail and the same drizzle that prevailed the day before was hanging around. So it rained the whole day---seventy miles of Yuk. Thank goodness the wind was out of the southeast and it pushed me northward toward Bemidji. Many areas I passed would have been absolutely stunning with the sun’s help, but I pretty much passed through the surroundings with limited gratification. There were some hilly, walked my bike, terrain around Walker, Minnesota; otherwise it was a flat former railroad right away trail.

The Paul Bunyan Trail region is rich in history, having been inhabited for centuries before French explorers came to the area. The Ojibwe and Dakota were present in the area until explorers entered the region and the logging and railroad industry took over. The Paul Bunyan State Trail follows an abandoned railroad corridor built in 1893 and last owned by Burlington Northern. The corridor passes through Boreal forests, along with more than twenty lakes and ten rivers/streams.

After lunch at the Happy Moose Bar and Grill in Walker, I headed out toward Bemidji. The wind then changed to northwest to test my stamina. Because of the rain, I didn’t bring my Ipod so the last thirty miles were a long thirty miles. The signage in Bemidji could have been better in that I went right through downtown Bemidji and past Bemidji State University without realizing it. To add insult to injury, when the paved trail ended, it joined a primitive trail that did not look bicycle friendly. And it wasn’t, After fighting a rugged soft trail for two or three miles, I decided I must be on the wrong trail and it was time to turn around. Luckily I stopped a car and asked, “which way to Bemidji?”. Although the guy looked like a Harley Biker, obese, long scraggly hair, tons of tattoos and generally curmudgeon like fellow, he did give me the correct directions. The second case of Cush’s Theorem run amuck. I got to the car by six o’clock and headed out of town shortly thereafter. The goal was to complete one more trail, the Gandy Dancer in St. Croix Falls Wisconsin,  I figured I could drive another three hours before  before heading back to Iowa. I gave GPS Trixie full control and followed her savvy directions toward St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin.   One hundred sixty miles later, Trixie had me in Milaca, Minnesota, sixty-five miles from St. Croix Falls.

Seg #30 Willard Munger Trail; Hinckley-N of Willow River, MN 10/10/13

Start	S of Hinckely, MN			46.00384,-92.9506		NS miles 21.4
End	N of Willow RiverMN			46.32555,-92.82343		Trl lgth 22.7 Ride 22.5 miles
Ride 1:54 hr		AVS 11.8	MXS 21.5 mph		DST 22.5		Temp 73	Kcal 1744

 The Willard Munger Trail is one of the top ten paved bicycle trails in the country. The trail is named after a Minnesota state legislator who devoted his legislative career of 43 years to trail development and environmental protection.  It came to fruition in the 1980’s when the state of Minnesota was deeded the St. Paul-Duluth Railroad right- of- way. In 1989 the Willard Munger Trail opened as the longest paved recreational trail in America. 

Self portrait with aspen and birch contrasting
beautifully with the ruby red maples and sumac

Straight away I drove  to the Munger trailhead in Hinckley from Rochester in two and a half hours, keeping me on schedule to start riding north by 3 p.m. The fall colors were splendid all over Minnesota but absolutely spectacular on the trail. Hitting the peak of fall foliage is a rare experience for me, so one might guess how trilled I was to have a sunny seventy-three degree, wind at my back ride. I was able to make good time despite several picture stops. In planning this ride, I was able to arrange a cab from Willow River back to Hinckley. 


I rode a mile further north of this trail sign to overlap latitude
with the Paul Bunyon Trail in Brainerd

My Attaboy driver was quite a character.

The cab service was uniquely named Attaboys’ as in “That a Boy”.  The owner Patty Atterbury made certain the driver was on time; meeting me at Willow River at 5:30 p.m. Driver Dan was an interesting fellow, communicating with a Norwegian flare to his enunciation. We both agreed flying is for the birds. Dan said he had been involved in two plane crashes and will never fly again. I don’t blame him for his aerophobia. He drove like a bat out of hell and he got me back to my car before dark. He was adament about the fastest route to Brainerd, my next stop. "Go up I-35 and turn left on MN 210", he confidently told me.  That meant I would be to heading northeast to catch highway 210 to go back southeast. Granted Interstate 35 is the fastest way to travel north and Minnesota 210 has stretches of four lane road similar to an interstate, but goodness Dan, I went sixty miles farther and took another more than an hour longer compared to a southern route GPS Trixie drew up for me. I should have checked the map but I trusted Dan's information. Oh well, another example of Cush’s Theorem: No matter whom you ask, the information gathered will be generally misleading with significant details excluded. How nice it would have been to get another hour of sleep. So I just counted my blessings of having spent most of the day in heaven’s peak color environment, my spirits were lifted. Boom! I was asleep.

Is this heaven? No its Iowa! Just kidding it's Minnesota on the Munger trail at fall's peak!

 

Seg #26 make up: Douglas State Trail & city streets/trails south of Rochester 10/10/13

In August, when Chris and I rode the Douglas Trail south from Pine Island to Rochester, I thought pedaling to Mayo Clinic was the end of the ride. I was off by a mere 8.5 miles. Only after writing a post (Segment #26) for my Blog, did I realize I needed to correct my mistake.  Since I planned to make a four day solo expedition this round of rides, I deliberated on making up the 8.5 mile ride while conquering the remaining three Minnesota and Wisconsin trails I needed for latitude.  My body is good for riding roughly fifty to sixty miles per day (wind and trail surface depending). Since this trip would require me riding over three hundred sixty miles, assuming I used previous solo ride logistics pumping to and from the car. This would be my first attempt at hiring taxi or taking a bus to haul me to one end of the trail, thus conserving time, energy and a whole series of musculoskeletal  maladies.  

By leaving Coralville at 6:00 a.m., I was able to get on the bike trail south of Rochester by 10 a.m. I had arranged for a cab to pick me up at the north end of the trail near Mayo Clinic at 11:15. This plan would give me a little flex time. But I didn’t imagine I would need to push my little red Trek Fuel 80 up a steep slope. The second mile of the juant had me attacking a long eight to 12 per cent trail with 250 feet elevation change. I try as I may, riding up this slope was a bit more than I was ready to handle. It was clear I would not be able make it to the top. Off I jumped. Huffing and puffing, wheeling the Trek up 40^th Street hill. Thus I was a tad late meeting the taxi cab and just about lost out on keeping on schedule. The cab driver was a nice fellow and helped me load my bike in the back of his van. He got back to the car ahead of schedule so I had time for a bite to eat at Subway. 

After downing a chicken sandwich, I was off on a two hour drive to the William Munger Trail at Hinckley, Minnesota.



Orange lines are trails I have completed as of October 13, 2013. Green lines
are planned rides yet to be conquered mostly in the southern half of the USA
(Many trails in Arizona and California need to be planned)

Seg# 29: Blue Ox trail to USA-Canadian Border

Segment #29: Blue Ox Trail, Bemidji-International Falls, MN-Canada 9/17-18/13

Start	Bemidji, MN	47.46492,-94.85204	NS miles 79.6
End	Int’Falls MN-Canada	48.60778,-93.40148	Trl lgth 107 Ride 120 miles

Ride 12:56hr

AVS 9.2

MXS 19.2 mph

DST 28.5

Temp 66

Kcal 9797

This was the toughest ride so far in my quest to traverse the breath of the USA yet it could have been much worse. Having Chris as my trail riding companion and chauffer was a Godsend. It’s a long drive (550 miles) from Runnels, Iowa to the United States-Canadian border at International Falls, Minnesota.  The Blue Ox trail is the only bike path where a trail goes all the way to northern border of our country. Chris had to work until 7 p.m. in the hemodialysis unit in Des Moines' Mercy Hospital. We got on the road later than planned and didn’t get to St. Cloud, MN until midnight. I hate driving at night so Chris was the designated driver after 8 o'clock. After a good sleep, we drove to Bemidji, MN and located the Paul Bunyan Trail. It was nice to start the ride on the Paul Bunyan Trail since it is a hard surface. Cloudy weather and a southeast wind, sort of, at our backs made for an easy start.  After riding five miles north, the Paul Bunyan ended and the Blue Ox Trail began.

It is night and day between these two trails. For the twelve hours I was on the Blue Ox trail, I never saw another vehicle, biker or hiker. I was surprised no All Terrain Vehicles (ATV’s) could be found. Maybe there is more activity on the weekend?

This is the first sign on the Blue Ox Trail after
starting the ride north on the Paul Bunyan Trail

Loose rock over compact trail
equals a slow, jolting ride.

At first the Blue Ox Trail was similar to limestone trails found in many states around the country, but after a while the packed gravel gave way to patches of soft loose sand and 3-4 inch loose rocks.

I bet the loose sand was the result of ATV’s on the trail. This is the only rail trail I have ridden that allows ATV’s, but I have been on other trails, that like the Blue Ox, allows snowmobiles and horses. If at all possible, I will avoid ATV accessible trails in the future. I don’t think snowmobiles make for a damaged trail, in fact they likely pack the snow and thereby help compact the gravel. Thank goodness four wheelers didn’t abuse the trail as much as I thought they might.

I was running out of daylight so Chris snatched us a motel room in Northome, MN. The hunting/fishing motel was six miles from where I stopped.  Being too pooped to pop, Chris came back and hauled my buns up to the motel where I crashed and burned.  The next morning Chris slept-in and I rode back to the spot where he picked me up the night before. We drove back to Northome and ate at Mandy’s. Some of these small town cafes have the best breakfast money can buy. Mandy did not disappoint. Before my breakfast had time to settle (I ate too much!), I was back on the Blue Ox Trail, jolting along at six to seven miles per hour. It took me until after lunch to make it to Big Falls and meet Chris for a Philly Steak sandwich and onion rings. Wow did that taste good. The Big Falls Municipal Liquor Store likely caused a bar and grill across the street to close down. A town the size Big Falls can’t be expected to have two similar joints a hundred feet from each other. This place had all the décor of an “up north” bar and grill. There were mountings of Elk, Deer and Moose adorning the walls.

Chris scopes out the Elk heads while waiting
for lunch. The hunters at the bar said these
animals would weigh up to 1000 lbs.

Chris rode with me out of Big Falls until the trail stopped and diverted back to highway 71. He then rode back to the car. Because the bar maid at the Liquor Store said she had just driven her four wheeler through two feet of water over the trail in several spots half way between Little Fork and Big Falls, I chose to not try to get back to the trail. The ride continued to International Falls on the shoulder of highway 71. Given there was only a car or truck every 2-3 minutes, and the shoulder was four feet of smooth asphalt, I could make pretty good time. Despite an improved riding speed averaging ten miles per hour, I was worried I would not get to the border before it would turn dark. So again, six miles short of the target, Chris picked me up and we drove to International Falls, got on our bikes and rode to the border check point.

Chris wails over my taking this picture and the
harassment he was getting from the Canadian
Border cops. Our bikes are out the window.



Chris with his permit to go back to the USA.
Only to get raked over the coals a second time.

This is where the trip gets dicey. The bridge between the USA and Canada is owned by a private company, Boise I think. Truckers and workers use the bridge. The only person at the booth before passing onto the bridge is a toll taker. There isn’t a toll for bicycles so when Chris asked about going forward, the attendant waved him on. I was following him, so I got the same wave to go on. We rode a few blocks crossing the bridge, seeing a white painted line and then the “Welcome to Canada” sign. We rode our bikes up to the gate and out came a border guard. “You guys need to go inside”. All we wanted to do was take our pictures by the Canada sign and go back to the USA. No, that wasn’t possible, we were already in Canada and the Canadian border agents needed us to step inside. Since we had not stopped on the US side and Chris left his driver’s license in the car, we or more appropriately, HE, was in big trouble. The agents didn’t harass me maybe because I was too old to be an effective terrorist and I had my driver’s license. Chris could not leave to get his license in the car but they contemplated letting me back to the car for his license.  After some more brow beating, the Canadian agents printed off a document for Chris to take back to the US agents.  So we shot a picture and headed back to the US only to be brow beaten even more intently by US agents.After repeated questioning about what were we doing? Why were we crossing the border without sufficient documentation?  Why we didn’t have passports, the US agents told me to go get Chris’s drivers license. I jumped on my bike shot out of there. As I approached the car that was parked at the International Falls Welcome Center, the same Welcome Center that the lady said there was no problem with crossing into Canada, I heard Chris yell behind me. “We don’t need my license.” “I wasn’t in any of their systems”. They must have deduced that we were not Al-Qaeda and we could go our merry way back to the US of A. More than 40 years ago, Connie and I, with Chris and Geoff aboard, went through the border without a hitch---my how times have changed! In our debriefing session at the car, we decided similar misunderstood border guidelines are breached frequently, especially with bicyclists. There were no clear signs as to what to do. The toll taker waved us on through. There was not stop or any other signs indicating the need to stop on the American side and we were in Canada quicker than a fruit fly darting around on my computer screen. As part of the trip planning, I had called the International Falls Welcome Center to confirm that a driver’s license was all we needed. Yet at the border they told us we should have had passports---go figure.

Where are the signs saying stop here? Just a
the only sign we saw was one pointing
 to Canada (black and white sign in center)

It was after six p.m. and I still had to finish my ride by biking six miles back to where Chris picked me up. I put on all my lights and headed south. It took me only a half hour to complete the six miles.  By midnight we were in St. Cloud again.

When I looked out in the morning the parking lot was wet and in the distance there were dense black clouds. We were only on the road twenty minutes or so and the clouds unloaded. Hail (some stones were 1 ½ inches) with wind gusts over fifty miles per hour. I could not see beyond the hood of the car so I pulled into the front of residential area. The hail was being slowed by a huge tree which prevented dents in the car. But as the water rose around the car and leaves and limbs were coming off the trees.  I had to get out from under the trees for fear of a major cruncher falling on the car. The streets were flooded but I just followed the local traffic trough the instant lakes. It was testy for about forty minutes and then the storm moved on. Chris took over driving and back to Iowa we went with great weather all the way to Chris’ house. But while we were unloading the care another black horizon was developing. I took off and drove 80 mph to get and stay ahead of the storm. There was considerable wind damage west of downtown Des Moines but Chris’ place was spare and my NASCAR driving got me back to Coralville without damage.

Chris and I shouldering up to Paul Bunyan. Going north
to Canada from Bemidji is Babe's Blue Ox Trail.
Paul's trail goes over one hundred miles south to Brainerd

The Blue Ox Trail was a challenge but we knocked down over a hundred mile a section of my border to border riding goal. Glad to have that behind me. Without Chris I would not have made it. We didn’t get thrown in jail, never got cold and wet and the wind was at our back. I doubt if this trail will ever be rideable for any bicycle other than a mountain bike.

Bella Gal and 50th High School Reunion

This is a good spot to enter a sidebar and releave readers of the incessant bike riding stories. The little black puppy shown here was named Bella by granddaughter Alex. Half Labrador and half golden retriever, she has the best temperament and appears smart as a whip. Ian and Alex have another dog named Bandit. So far the two little canines get along splendidly. Although it was a five hundred mile jaunt to pick her up in Manona, Iowa and take to her to her new home in Runnells. Ian was a good sport and rode with us. It was a long trip but it was all worth it. She has a wide open range to run and play. When she gets bigger she will likely chase deer and coyotes like her predecessor Dudley. The grand kids will need to teach her not to go down to the road and not chase cars. I think Bella has a perfect home. I normally don't make much fuss over pets but I will have to admit Bella has won my heart.

This past weekend, the Carroll Alumni associtation sponsored the Class of 63's Fiftieth class reunion. Seventy five per cent of the class that remains upright made it to the festivities thanks to tons of work by the organizing committee, especially JoAnn Berns-Richardson. It was fun seeing classmates again, some for over fifty years. They honored our class by arranging a trolley wagon to ride in the homecoming parade. As a former Carroll Tiger football player, I was delighted to set in the stands Friday night and witness a 48-7 trouncing of the Storm Lake Tornadoes. It is shocking how big these kids are today. Most every 2013 player out weighed our 1963 team by twenty pounds.  Our biggest players were 220-250 pounds. But now, Carroll has two Blutos that are 6'5" and 320 pounds. I expect the Tigers to make a good showing for themselves this season and end-up in the state playoffs.

Seg#28 Looking at the Next Decade On the Old Abe Trail

Segment #28: Old Abe Trail Chippewa Falls to N of Cornell, WI   8/21/13

Start	Chippewa Falls, WI	44.91902,-91.38194	NS miles 18.3
End	N of Cornell WI	45.18141,-91.16169	Trllgth 26.1 Ride 28.5

Ride Hrs2.6

AVS 10.5

MXS 17.2 mph

DST 28.5

Temp 86

Kcal 2259

Don ready to ride the smoothest trail ever

As stated in the previous post, on the 20th of August, I celebrated my last year for me to say "I am in my sixties and going strong." Hopefully that will be the case as a septuagenarian :-)

After an eight hour power slumber at America’s Best Value Inn, we loaded up and drove to Chippewa Falls in search of the Old Abe Trail.  Somehow the coordinates I plugged into the GPS didn’t fit what I reviewed on the computer the night before. Luckily a fellow that knew the area peddled up and directed Don and me to a route that got us to the trail head. It helped tremendously to find the Chippewa Falls Visitors Center on our way to the trail. The center was full of information, including detailed city and county maps. The minute we started on the Old Abe trail, I knew this was going to be one the best surfaces I had ever ridden. Old Abe was as smooth as a  five blade razor shave. Many of the small towns on the trail were formed when logging and the railroads were going strong. By the mid-1900’s many of these small lumber towns were drying up. We stopped at a site where a lumber mill and town once stood with a population of three thousand. Nothing remains of this town today. We made it to Cornell, Wisconsin after lunch time  so as soon we got our bikes loaded, we headed to Dylan’s Dairy store. The store was a cheese and sandwich shop that

Connie buys out Dylan's after a super lunch

was established three years ago after the passing of Dylan Crabb, a local young man that fought leukemia until therapy, including bone marrow transplants, could not stop the disease. Dylan’s “Make a Wish” was to manage a herd of 33 dairy cows. He was able to do that before he left this planet. Today his mother and aunts are managing the herd and operate the diary store. I give the shop a ten for quaintness and good food. I would love to get back there someday. While we were eating, the friendly staff told of us about  the uniqueness of the Stacker. This 175 foot piece of equipment is the only such machine standing in the world. The design of the contraption was for stacking log sections into a huge pile of wood to use in the pulp mill that operated in Cornell from 1913 to 1972. The Stacker reminds 

The only standing Stacker in the world 

me of a metal version of the leaning tower of Pisa. Connie and I never got to Pisa or Mount Vesuvius but did spend time in Florence and Rome. Now we don’t need to go to Italy. We can say we saw the American version of Pisa while traveling Wisconsin on a bicycle-- no need to fly across the pond to Italy.

Back in the day, the Stacker could create 100
foot piles of log sections to then be processed
into pulp for producing paper.  

The population has grown 53 folks since publication

of 485. A smaller sign (upper left)identifies writer

Michael Perry as a citizen of New Auburn.

Another nice feature of riding to Cornell was that we were only thirty miles from New Auburn, Wisconsin. And what is the big deal about New Auburn you say? Why that is where one of my favorite authors is from. Michael Perry is a New Auburnite that can write about his living in northern Wisconsin in a most humorous way that I identify with well---Qwerty I guess. The Lincoln Journal Star described Michael’s style as “Part Bill Bryson, part Anne Lamott, with a skim of Larry the Cable Guy and Walt Whitman creeping around the edges” I have read three of his four books. Right now I am half way through Truck. His first book entitled Population 485-Meeting Your Neighbors One Siren at a Time got him on the map. It also messed-up the road signs that now state the population as 548. As you can see in the picture I took, the community pride has exploded now that Michael is famous. The fact that he continues to live nearby made it interesting to cruise around and relive his stories. I wonder if too many visitors will sour the town folks attitude about bringing notoriety to the community. We tried not to be too paparazzi-like, shooting but a few pictures of Main Street and the water tower. We decided not to try to find Michael’s farm home-creativity site, avoiding a disruption of genesis.