24/6/2011 South of Walker to Oak Haven camp ground (15m from Bemidji)
Dist.91k, 5hrs, total 915
Due to little on offer at my campsite I was up early, had a coffee and quaker oats. The tent had condensation on the inside of the fly due to my not erecting the tarp above. I had to pack it as is, so consequently the inner was going to get wet. Must get out of here, mossys had discovered my whereabouts.
Back on the PB trail I headed to Walker, in good shape after yesterdays effort. I was now satisfied that the padded shorts I had were of no use. The skin on our bums is farthest away from our bones for a reason.
My ride through to Walker was sheer pleasure,a magic day was in the making. Emotion overcame me as the true beauty of this landscape and the freedom it offered was comtemplated. The dragonflies flirted with my front wheel as they rose from the asphalt at the last moment.
Walker is a beautiful town on Leech Lake. I bumped into the same people that I met on the jetty south of Walker,(a casual attempt at fishing was made) they were trying their luck here. An historic lighthouse is located on the foreshores accompanied by the ever present stars and strips.
I encountered a couple of other cyclists north of Walker, we rode for 5m together chatting, they were well travelled and the conversation covered many topics. All of a sudden I hit a brick wall, totally out of energy. I had to fuel up bigtime. The guy and his wife continued on.
A can of sardines, trail mix and an orange were a great help. La Porte was not to far off, stopping there at the genearal store would complete my nutritional requirements.
The La Porte Grocery and Meats establishment was a welcome sight. First up was a huge soft serve ice cream. The owner was just hanging about between jobs, we started yakking and immediately got a line on each others humour. He was stirring up the woman who helped in his meat smoking operation, obviously a good friend or his wife, I did not ask.She was attractive, middle aged and shared our sense of humour.Their forefathers were of Scandanavian decent, a common lineage in North Minnesota. We were discussing his smoked Bratwurst.
He asked me if I would like to try a Chicago, Italian beef roll with spicy pickles, Silly question. Soon he was approaching me from the rear of the shop, roll in one hand and fries in the other.
“This is on us”, he said. I knew a protest would fall on deaf ears. This roll was loaded with thinly sliced warm beef and topped with fiery pickles. “The milk of the mother” was my reply to his enquiry as to how I found it.He cracked up.
So if you’re ever on the PB trail dont go past La Porte without a stop here, Craig said they were going specialize in more homesmoked meat products, good move. Thanks Craig and your staff.This kind of hospitality makes putting kilometers on the odometer effortless.
With about 25m to Bemidji, at 1400hrs I encountered an older guy and we rode to Bemidji, av speed 26 plus which soon saw us on the outskirts of the town. We went to the supermarket where he gave me directions to the state parks. He was a very well educated person reciting Shakespeare as we rode. He had ridden in the UK. The Romans built straight roads but during the later feudal years the roads, still in use today, followed less than straight property boundaries. Great place to ride was the opinion that was formed.
I spent the night at the Oak Haven resort on the MR, along Roosevelt Road, on the way to Bena.
The tent was still wet inside, towelling it helped, this wont happen again. I had a great camp below some people from North Dakota who were in RVs.
Once my shelter and asociated chores were sorted I went up and introduced myself to my neighbours, they were sitting around their campfire. One of the guys, Nick offered me a beer. We all sat around talking about the flooding in North Dakota and our respective countries. Once again the generosity and humour of these people was overwhelming.
About 2300hrs I excused myself and headed for the nest, the damp tent far from my mind.
Dist.91k, 5hrs, total 915
Due to little on offer at my campsite I was up early, had a coffee and quaker oats. The tent had condensation on the inside of the fly due to my not erecting the tarp above. I had to pack it as is, so consequently the inner was going to get wet. Must get out of here, mossys had discovered my whereabouts.
Back on the PB trail I headed to Walker, in good shape after yesterdays effort. I was now satisfied that the padded shorts I had were of no use. The skin on our bums is farthest away from our bones for a reason.
My ride through to Walker was sheer pleasure,a magic day was in the making. Emotion overcame me as the true beauty of this landscape and the freedom it offered was comtemplated. The dragonflies flirted with my front wheel as they rose from the asphalt at the last moment.
Walker is a beautiful town on Leech Lake. I bumped into the same people that I met on the jetty south of Walker,(a casual attempt at fishing was made) they were trying their luck here. An historic lighthouse is located on the foreshores accompanied by the ever present stars and strips.
I encountered a couple of other cyclists north of Walker, we rode for 5m together chatting, they were well travelled and the conversation covered many topics. All of a sudden I hit a brick wall, totally out of energy. I had to fuel up bigtime. The guy and his wife continued on.
A can of sardines, trail mix and an orange were a great help. La Porte was not to far off, stopping there at the genearal store would complete my nutritional requirements.
The La Porte Grocery and Meats establishment was a welcome sight. First up was a huge soft serve ice cream. The owner was just hanging about between jobs, we started yakking and immediately got a line on each others humour. He was stirring up the woman who helped in his meat smoking operation, obviously a good friend or his wife, I did not ask.She was attractive, middle aged and shared our sense of humour.Their forefathers were of Scandanavian decent, a common lineage in North Minnesota. We were discussing his smoked Bratwurst.
He asked me if I would like to try a Chicago, Italian beef roll with spicy pickles, Silly question. Soon he was approaching me from the rear of the shop, roll in one hand and fries in the other.
“This is on us”, he said. I knew a protest would fall on deaf ears. This roll was loaded with thinly sliced warm beef and topped with fiery pickles. “The milk of the mother” was my reply to his enquiry as to how I found it.He cracked up.
So if you’re ever on the PB trail dont go past La Porte without a stop here, Craig said they were going specialize in more homesmoked meat products, good move. Thanks Craig and your staff.This kind of hospitality makes putting kilometers on the odometer effortless.
With about 25m to Bemidji, at 1400hrs I encountered an older guy and we rode to Bemidji, av speed 26 plus which soon saw us on the outskirts of the town. We went to the supermarket where he gave me directions to the state parks. He was a very well educated person reciting Shakespeare as we rode. He had ridden in the UK. The Romans built straight roads but during the later feudal years the roads, still in use today, followed less than straight property boundaries. Great place to ride was the opinion that was formed.
I spent the night at the Oak Haven resort on the MR, along Roosevelt Road, on the way to Bena.
The tent was still wet inside, towelling it helped, this wont happen again. I had a great camp below some people from North Dakota who were in RVs.
Once my shelter and asociated chores were sorted I went up and introduced myself to my neighbours, they were sitting around their campfire. One of the guys, Nick offered me a beer. We all sat around talking about the flooding in North Dakota and our respective countries. Once again the generosity and humour of these people was overwhelming.
About 2300hrs I excused myself and headed for the nest, the damp tent far from my mind.