Cycling

The loud, constant traffic noise drowned out my sleep. I’m a bit tired this morning. Nancy and Moe came back from a walk and let me know that she was at the office and switched campgrounds. We are at Riverside, and will be moving to Whispering Hills. It will be a short distance up the hill and away from the highway. Checkout is at 2 p.m., so we have time to kill. I make breakfast and enjoy a morning coffee.

I break down the tent and gear and stuff it all into the camper. We hitch up, Nancy drives out of the site, and I follow on my bicycle.

OK, we are here, this site has electric hook-up. The post is a difficult distance that requires backing the camper with the rear hovering over the fire pit. This area is not level, so three blocks under the low wheel and the camper is level. I set up the tent in the corner of the site.

We go to see Kakabeka Falls.

Now back in our site, that has little to no cell coverage. I can get a text to send at snail’s pace. The speed of communicating is about as fast as mailing a letter through the post office and getting the reply. I did finally set up an overnight at a Warmshowers in Thunder Bay for tomorrow night.

 My eyes open and I’m wondering the time. The phone shows 6:30 a.m. I’m already awake, so I begin packing up. The valve opens, air whooshes out. I fold and roll the mattress and put it into the sack. Next, the pillow. The sleeping bag is stuffed into its bag. Everything in the tent is packed and piled next to the door. I slip on my shoes and stand out in the morning air. 

The rain fly is now off and in its stuff sack. I empty the tent and fill the panniers. The tent  is next. Once unclipped and the poles put away, the tent is put into its stuff sack. Now, the footprint is put in the sun to dry the damp underside. This entire process takes about twenty minutes. It is the routine of every morning.

The sky is getting dark. Nancy is getting the camper ready. We put my bike and gear inside, another routine if I am riding with her. The rain begins, everything has been put away dry.

We drive to Grand Marais. I get coffee and scones at a local coffee shop. Next is gas. We are now heading to the Canadian border.

We stop at Grand Portage to see the sights. Luck is with us today. There is a Rendezvous happening. Tent villages are set up. We stepped back in time to the 1700s. We spend hours looking, visiting, and learning the way of life in this trading port.

Back on the road to Canada. Entry is a breeze. We’re hoping it will be this easy coming back into the States.

We find the campground and set up camp.

The night went by as I slept. It is now morning, a new day unfolding. What will it bring? I climb out of the tent and find my way to the chair four yards away. It doesn’t sound like much, but this distance comes with a comfy chair. I take advantage. I sit in the cool air bundled in a fleece jacket. 

Nancy asks if I’m ready to hike. I race back in time to get my bearings. I’ve had breakfast. So, I suppose I am ready to hike. We walk to the Cascade River trail.

We follow the river to where it flows into Lake Superior.

We cross Rte 61 and begin hiking the lake trail. This trail is overgrown, but we are on the banks of Lake Superior.

We get back to the campground, and I begin to find ways to plot my route around the lake. The cell at this campground is poor, and I’m having a difficult time. We decide to drive into Grand Marais for better cell coverage.

We stop at the Voyageur Brewing Company. I put together a route that I am somewhat comfortable with. We go into the brewery for dinner. Moe is welcome on the patio. Dinner is good; the beers are excellent. I buy a six-pack to bring on tour. The waiter, Robert from Armenia, is fabulous, and I enjoy the playful conversation with him.

Now we are back at the campsite.

I’m working on the blog. Night is falling fast. Tomorrow will soon be here. This time tomorrow, I’ll be in Canada composing another blog. 

It was cold overnight and cold this morning. I dress into fleece pants and a sweatshirt. The mosquitoes are out in force, as if it is a warm summer day. Nancy makes oatmeal as I pack up to ride the forty-four miles to our next campground.

Nancy takes Moe for his morning walk. I let them get out of sight and begin the day’s ride. I’m in no hurry. Check-in is at 4 p.m. It is 10 a.m. Nancy plans to leave at noon.

Once out of the park, I ride north on Rte. 61. The only road to choose. The shoulder is wide, allowing a good distance from cars and large truck and RV’s.

Mile twenty-two is half way to the campground. I see a bakery ahead. I stop and see a family of four waiting to cross the road. I ask about the bike trail that they were riding. Jason, please correct me if I’ve mistaken your name, compliments my bike. This begins a forty-minute conversation. I give him my contact info to follow the tour.

I order food and have a sit-down meal. I really am in no hurry.

I cross the road and begin riding the Gitche Gumee Trail. This is a great trail with interesting scenic views.

The trail ends. I have ten more miles to the Cascade River State Park.

I arrive and park the bike, Eve R Green. I relax in a camp chair. Nancy has gone food shopping.

We are all now here. The soft, melting ice cream is eaten. I go and shower, then set up the tent for tonight.

The thunder and rain rang in the midnight. Loud claps of thunder broke the silence and rattled the ground. The lightning lit the sky and the darkness in the tent.

Then the rain hit the tent. Just inches above my head roared the sound of a waterfall.

I felt cozy wrapped in the storm. Dry and safe, listening until the end. Then the quiet, and I drifted to sleep.

It is morning. The tent is covered in large wet drops with a few leaves adding their shadow to the new day.

This is our last day in this park. We go to the trailhead at the visitor center. Still a bit tired from yesterday, we begin the hike. We follow the stairway to the beach.

Then we hike the trail to one of the two lookouts. We climb step after step to the first lookout. There is a group getting ready to rappel off the cliff. We visit for about thirty minutes, learning about the youth camp and sharing our tour stories.

The hike to the second lookout is slow. Moe attracts the interest of returning hikers of all ages, from three through late seventies.

The hike is over. We are back at camp. I put my bike on the work stand. I add sealant to the tires and clean and lube the chain. It is now ready for another ride.

The chill came late at night/early in the morning. I put on a light fleece and went back to sleep. Hours later, I opened my eyes to see the day begin. The moon in the blue sky was bright.

We have trails from the campground to two waterfalls. This will be explored. Moe is leashed and ready. We have our hiking shoes on. Off we go. A few sites from us, I spot a walk-in tent site. Curiosity pulls me down the trail to the site. Wow! This is a great place to camp.

We reach the trail and hike to the Upper Falls. Down the steps to the depths below. This is worth every bit of energy.

Up we climb. The steps seem to have doubled for the return to the top. Tired with fourteen-year-old Moe leading the way. Straining the leash, hoping we will move just a bit quicker.

Now at the trail split to Two Step Falls. I don’t know how it’s possible. There are two hundred steps to reach the bottom of the falls. This is steeper and longer than getting to the other falls. We do get there and hike over rocks and ledges to view the water drop, swirl, and splash.

Now is the payback. Up all those steps we climb.

We are now on the trail back to the campsite. I sit and relax as best I can while swatting mosquitos. With no lunch and all the hiking, 5789 steps, I skip a late lunch in favor of an early dinner. Burgers, tomatoes, and baked beans at 4 p.m.

I put the rain fly on the tent. It will rain overnight. We work on planning the next four campgrounds. Some will be in Canada. Then a short visit with the campsite across from us.

I’m sitting here writing a blog.

It’s getting dark, and I tire of fighting biting insects. I’m thinking of crawling into the bug-free tent.

At 6:30 am I’m awake and starting the breakdown. My sleeping gear and tent are packed. Next is breakfast, gobbled quickly. I want to be on the road by 9:00. The next campground is sixty miles away. I hope to be there around 3 p.m. Looking on the map, the town of Isabella is thirty miles away, perfect for grabbing drinks and food. The day now has a plan.

In the saddle and pedaling out the five-mile gravel road to MN 1. This road will take me to five miles of the campsite. Easy peasy, one road. This low-traffic road goes through the Superior National Forest. There is nothing other than swampy areas, many small lakes, and dense forest.

I am six miles from Isabella, hungry. Nancy goes by, slows down, and stops on the side of the road. Her window goes down, and she hands me the rest of her cold Dr. Pepper. I tell her my plan, and now she will meet me when I get to Isabella. She drives away. A few minutes later, I get a text. There is nothing in that town, and she will wait and make sandwiches. I ride another few miles and see the camper. Which, by the way, is the only thing in the town besides one house.

I get a few minutes’ rest sitting in a chair and a full belly. I leave, Nancy and Moe drive ahead to the campground.

Finland is the next town that might have food, just a farm market, a closed gas station, and a post office.

I am three miles from the campground.

I make my way to Park Road, climb the hill, and enter Baptism River Campground.

Camp is set up, and it’s time to relax. Oh, there are plenty of mosquitoes here also. 

The mosquitoes are here, not as bad as the place we left behind. Still enough that I don’t want to deal with them. I set up the tent sans rain fly. We are deep into a forest next to a lake, one of many in northeast Minnesota. I slept well in the cool air. Sometime in the darkness, I covered myself with a sleeping bag.

It is light. I stare into the white sky framed with green branches. The white slowly turns blue. The noise of the occupied sites signals people are up. I lay a bit longer. The camper door opens. Tiny foot steps are now on the ground coming my way. It is Moe pulling Nancy in my direction. He tries pushing his way inside, but this tent resists unlike the screen tent. I unzip and join the two in the soon-to-be hot air.

Afternoon slipped in. We take Moe for a walk to the lake.

I don’t have the desire to ride my bike on the park roads; there are no showers to clean off the sweat and grime. Going to bed icky and sticky would not be pleasant.

I am bored from not riding, which is mostly due to the distance I would need to cover to get to the campgrounds in time to be in sync with Nancy’s schedule. And, the roads have mostly been highways, some with shoulders, that have rumble strips where I would need to ride. Others, no shoulders.

What would be more appropriate than tasting a great beer from HammerHeart Brewing Company, located a few miles away in Ely?

Today is slipping into tomorrow.

Not all days start the same. Some I relax into. I wake and lie still listening to nature.  Today is not that day. The sun is up and I am in a tent under a rain fly. I hear the morning waking up. There is much to do to break camp. It rained yesterday and overnight. I see beads of water resting atop the tent. It looks cool, the sunlight illuminates the drops through the translucent  fabric. It is peaceful but I know the chore ahead.

I unzip the tent and face reality. Outside the air is cool and damp. Splashes of sand left behind on the tent’s bottom three inches. The sun begins to shine through the leaves and the rain fly dries. I pack it into a pannier. The tent is dry, that is put away. The ground cover is wet on the underside and damp above. It is placed in the sun to dry.

Nancy is now up and outside cleaning the screen tent and stowing it away. When all is packed we hitch the camper and head to the next campground.

It was fifteen miles to the closest gas station. While the tank is being filled I go inside looking for things to eat. And , ice for the coolers.

We head east then southeast along the Rainy River, Canada is on the far bank.

For miles and hours we are on a road in a forest with only tall evergreens on both sides.

And then we enter the town of Ely. This is a great small town with shops and bakeries. I go into a package store to find some local beers. I leave with much knowledge of the brewery in Ely and the owner offered a few choices. I walk out the door with some pints.

Nancy and Moe are outside a bakery talking with a couple. She bought some pastries to enjoy while the laundry is being cleaned.

The final ten-mile drive begins. The scenery becomes interesting.

We are now in Birch Lake Campground. The setup is over, we are settling in as the light fades.

Last night I slept in the tent. The mosquitoes were out in force. This would be a primitive campground if not for the pit toilets and the water pumps placed in every loop. There is also a shower building over by the park entrance, almost a mile from this loop.

I did get a good night’s sleep protected from mosquitoes and the biting flies unable to get through the net. I left the rain fly off for the cooling of the breeze. The prediction, a 30% chance of a thunder shower at 5 a.m. The cooling air is worth the chance of getting wet. The rain fly is inside next to me ready to use at the first boom of thunder or drop of rain.

I wake to a cool morning. The camper door opens and Moe is outside looking for me. He walks by the tent looking for a hammock unaware that I am watching. Nancy is now outside telling Moe that I am in the tent. I get up and put the rain fly over the tent. The rain should be here in an hour.

Breakfast is over and the dishes are washed. Nancy wants to hike the trail along the beach. It is 8 a.m., rumble… boom… thunder in the distance. The rain begins. We sit under the screen tent. An hour goes by. The rain stops. We drive to the parking area to hike. Nothing is close together in this park.

The car is parked. We begin the short hike to the beech. The trail is about .3 miles long. It is also between two swampy ditches, mosquito breeding ground, that continue the trail’s length. My first foot lands on the trail. A dozen starved mosquitoes dive bomb to my leg and land just above my ankle. My hand comes down with a heavy, loud slap. Most of these bloodsuckers scatter unscathed. One lands on the ground belly up. Then the other leg is under attack. The one downed pest is replaced by a handful. Every step of the way.

Now at the beach, the hoards dwindle to a few at a time, somewhat manageable. The damage has been done. Puffy red itchy bumps on exposed skin. Nonetheless, with the loss of a pint of blood, the beach hike is nice. Moe reluctantly walked into the water at the end of a taut leash. The cool water must have felt nice. Back on shore, he is filled with energy.

Now back at the site, Nancy makes us lunch. Minutes shape into hours. I again hear thunder in the distance. It is now a lazy afternoon and camp day.