Day 30 started near the South Dakota/Minnesota state line. I say near, because while I slept within 4 geographical miles of the state line, the road took another 7.5 to get there. For breakfast I finished off the bison sausage I had picked up leaving the black hills and mopped it up with a loaf of day old jimmy johns bread.
The road continued east until about a mile and a half before the state line, where it swung south into the teeth of the wind. The next couple miles went rather slowly, but I got to watch a parade of cars from the 50's drive towards Minnesota. I was now starting to enter a vast field of wind turbines, dozens of them spanning from slightly northwest of me all across the eastern horizon, ending not quite south of me. As I said before, if I lived around here, I'd have a wind farm, and here, clearly, were people who agreed with me. It was a beautiful sight if you're into that kind of thing, and I am into that kind of thing. I would take a horizon filled with green pastures lined with turbines than a single coal plant spewing its fumes into the sky.
Just before the state line, there are a couple historical marker signs on the South Dakota side. One lists a series of historical personages and events in the state, the other extols the virtues of South Dakota on one side and sites the natural beauty, wealth of resources, and 'cheerful citizenry' of Minnesota on the other. I may be wrong, but I think that last bit was meant to be mildly insulting.
At mile 2223.51, I officially crossed into Minnesoter. Seeing as I was born in Wisconsin and grew up in Illinois and that I probably spent more time in Minnesota than any other state I've never lived in (well, maybe that's Virginia or Pennsylvania, but it's close), I felt like I was coming home. I understand the landscape, I understand the people, and, after I got a little bit further into the state and started to encounter hills and trees, the wind even went back to what I consider normal, blowing out of the west. Oh, upper midwest, how I've missed you.
The first town you come to entering Minnesota on US 14 is Lake Breton. First town I see, first lake I see. I climbed the hill, and passed a little Memorial Day weekend musicfest that looked like it wouldn't get started for another couple hours. The next town I came to was Tyler, and I stopped at one of the two gas stations in town to refill the fluids. Immediately, the conversation in the station turned to cycling, and the four or five guys there were all impressed with my voyage. One of them, a guy around my age who I definitely would have considered sketchy if I was a female, invited me up to his place 10 miles north of town for some beers. I thanked him, but said I wanted to get to Redwood Falls by the end of the day, so I didn't really have time. Yeah, thanks but no thanks.
According to the Minnesoter Bike Map, the stretch of Highway 23 between Florence and Marshall has a paved 6' shoulder the whole length. What the map doesn't show is that between Lynd and Marshall it's all under construction. what is normally a 4 lane divided highway shares the southbound lanes and the shoulder I was riding on was the narrow center margin. Thankfully, the traffic was going pretty slowly. Coming into Marshall, I had the option of following 23 around town to where it hits 19, or going through town and picking up the highway as it makes its way downtown. I got to an intersection leading into town and saw the bike path. I didn't even have to look at the several more miles of construction on 23 to decide.
I had lunch in Marshall, home of Southern Minnesota State University, (go Fighting Smooses!) though was disappointed to see that the post office's Saturday window hours were 9-11. What, exactly, is the point of that? Who is this target audience that is sending post at 10:30, but has disappeared by 1? Looking on the clock on the wall, I was there at 12:45, a totally reasonable time for a post office to be open. Seeing as I was now enjoying my second day with temperatures in the low 90s, I figured I didn't really need the fleece or heavy gloves anymore, plus there was a growing collection of maps, brochures and receipts I wanted to keep but not necessarily on me. Since it was a holiday weekend, I now wouldn't be able to shed the extra bulk until Tuesday.
I followed 19 into Redwood Falls. My friend John, with whom I would be staying in the Twin Cities, recommended the town as a good place to stop and told me to check out Ramsey Park, the largest municipal park in the state. I got into town and saw a little park by the river. It was cute, so I took a couple pictures, then went forward in search of a room and dinner. The first motel I came to advertised rooms for $37, which sounded good to me. I dropped the stuff in the room, took a quick shower, then walked out in search of dinner. Passing a liquor store on the way, I restocked my dwindling supply of whiskey. After dinner, I was sitting in the room watching the first game of the Stanley Cup playoffs (the Chicago team is in, so I'll watch it). I noticed a change of color in the sky and decided that my time would be better spent watching the sun set down by the river than sitting in a cramped motel room watching hockey. I emptied the clothes pannier, threw in a bottle of coke and some bug spray and went up to the park. There were a couple nice winding hills leading to the park and I got to pass a car going down, which I always enjoy.
Into the park, I came to a bridge going over the river. There was a man and a couple of boys fishing from it, and when I slowed to take a picture of the scene, one of the boys came over towards me asking about the flashing light on the back of my helmet. I took the helmet off and showed him and that is how I met Matthew, his father Barry (and a while later, mother Renee) and the other boy who's name no one knew. In the course of talking to them about my trip and fielding a number of questions from Matthew, Barry's line went taught. The handed the pole to his son and coached him in reeling in the fish. This process gathered a small crowd. After several minutes of struggling, the boy outlasted the fish's strength, and up from the water came a two pound catfish. After some time was spent in unhooking and trying to weigh the fish, Barry finally threw it back in. I advised it to swim upstream and not hang out around any bridges.
By this point the sun had well set, and Barry invited me back to their campsite. I really wish I had gone to the park before I found the motel room, as there was plenty of room for a tent among the campers and there was plenty of good company around. I sat talking to the family for a couple of hours, having s'mores trying to keep out of the path of smoke coming up from the campfire. It was exactly the kind of interaction that I was hoping for when the trip began, meeting a great family from a small town I otherwise would never have met. Oh, and Barry, go to Sioux River Bikes in Brookings, find Rob and tell him I sent you. He'll make sure you walk out with the right bike for you.
One of the things we discussed was all the time I had to get to my college reunion in Appleton. It starts on June 18th, nearly three weeks away, and in that time I could ostensibly make it back to Utah or down to Louisiana. Making Appleton, about 450 miles away, would be no problem. Renee suggested I go up to Duluth. It was a great idea. Even though I had lived in Wisconsin for 7 years, I had never seen Lake Superior. I think that's a brilliant way to kill some time in this part of the country. Renee also gave me directions for the best route to Hutchinson, where I wanted to end up the next night. At last, it was time to go back up to the motel and pretend to get some sleep. But I felt like this was another successful day.
Day 30, Camp 10 miles east of Brookings, SD - Redwood Falls, MN
91.4 miles bringing me up to 2299.41 for the trip. I rode 7:17:39 for a total of 195:58:03 and a top speed of 29.9 mph.
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