A Dark Cloud On Our First Day . . .

Quite a day . . .

Brought the dog for a walk.

Made pancakes for my Mom and Dad, Ellie, her roommates, and Diana. 

Packed up.

Forgot my gloves – which comes into play later.

Said goodbye to my parents, Ellie, her boyfriend, Jacob, and her roommates, Lauren (via FaceTime or something), and a bunch of great friends who came over to see us off.

Went on a ride through Minneapolis and St. Paul with some of our best friends. 

Endured some complaints about the route through downtown . . . (I wanted to see the Twins Stadium and Hennepin Avenue one more time before taking off . . . I’ve loved downtown ever since I was a kid and would take the bus to 8th and Hennepin, go to Schinder’s and surreptitiously look at the adult magazines – which seems so quaint now, in the age of the internet – and then eat cheese chillitos at Zantigo. I’m not even sure a chillito is an authentic food – but I guess we’ll figure that out over the next 11,000 miles or or so . . .)

And then reality set in. When the last of our friends turned around at the St. Paul Airport it started sinking in. We aren’t on a quick ride with our buddies or an overnight to a State Park. 

It’s just Diana and I and the world – for as far as the eye can see . . .

But before we could get too philosophical about the whole thing – the day changed radically. First a few drops. And then the dark clouds. And then it was full on raining. Fortunately it also started to get really cold. So that was fun. 

I’m sitting there thinking about how – in my cockiness – I didn’t bother to put our stuff in plastic bags. Diana said it was going to be a beautiful day – sunny, with a tailwind.

”Great, now our stuff is going to be wet too . . .”

It was at this point that I realized that I had forgot my gloves. Which is so sad, because I had three different pair I was choosing between as recently as yesterday afternoon . . . So sad. And so cold!

We’re on this dumb bike path at this point. You know the ones. Some government official wants to say he has connected Hastings with Berlin, Germany by bike path. He or she succeeded. But to do it, they constructed one of those paths where you double-back 83 miles in order to pick up a quarter mile segment connecting Piggy Swamp with Hog Slough. You can’t ride more than 34 seconds without consulting a map because the path is constantly morphing and turning and then sharing a road for 23 feet before disappearing altogether . . . 

Of course, it is now raining too hard to even use the phone for navigation because the rain drops are somehow disabling most of the basic phone functions. I see that the phone is asking me if I want to allow Google Maps to access Spotify. What?!?

We come to a sign that says the path is under construction ahead and is closed. Fortunately there is a group of older bikers waiting out the rain under an awning. They are obviously locals.

We head over to ask them if (a) this is the way to Hastings, and (b) if the path is really closed. 

My friend Tom had warned me that I wasn’t prepared for the language barriers we would encounter. But I thought I had a few days to prepare . . .

“Is this trail really closed?” I asked.

”The brewery is right up the road,” came the response.

“We’re going to see the tunnel,” another one added helpfully.

I decided to take a different approach. 

“We’re trying to get to Hastings. Can you tell us the best way to get there?”

It’s important to remember that at this point it’s still pouring rain and we’re freezing and hungry. 

Response: “Our friend is showing us the trail.”

What? 

These people make about as much sense as my wet phone.

Then a guy steps up who looks more knowledgeable. And we have that feeling you get when you’re in a foreign country and you finally  find the one person who speaks English. 

“Does this trail lead to Hastings?” 

“Our friend is bringing us to the brewery.”

Umm. These people seem to only know one language. I’m not a linguist, but I think it is in the geriatric family – with a tendency to know words like “Jello Salad” and “Mayberry.”

Like most Americans Diana and I need to learn more languages, but this one is, I think, dying . . . 

We both turn tail. This is obviously a waste of time – and we’re too cold to stand around talking nonsense like this . . .

So we head down the closed trail, hoping for the best. 

Eventually we catch up to some other bikers, and they actually speak English and have some useful information. Turns out the trail is really closed and there is active construction, but we can get through. 

Biking on a muddy trail with rain pelting down and semis driving around is not how we pictured the first day of our journey. But I guess you play the hand you’re dealt. Except that our hands, with our frozen fingers, are too cold for cards at all . . .

Somehow we plow through and emerge in suburban Hastings, the sun comes out, and we enjoy a nice lunch while we try to air stuff out. We tell the waiter that it’s too bad the rain ruined such a nice day. He looks at us like we’re crazy and informs us that it’s been sunny all day in Hastings. 

So wrong!

But I guess you want to hear about the biking . . . Turns out – surprise, surprise  – that Diana was right. I feel A LOT better when I don’t have lyme’s and babesiosis. We logged 80 miles and wound up in Bay City. Probably didn’t take the shortest route here – not helped by the ridiculous Berlin-Winona Bike Path. 

Oh, and it randomly rained us on again after lunch. (We hear it did not rain at all in Minneapolis. What the heck?!?)

Is it a good sign that a dark cloud seemed to follow us around on the first day of our trip?

What can you do? 

Time to put on all our clothes. Somehow it’s supposed to get down to 43 tonight. I guess we need to go south . . .

A housekeeping note. Couldn’t figure out how to re-set my odometer. So now we’ll have to subtract every day to get our grand total. Fortunately, I have always like math. Anyway – we started at 9,295 kilometers. Remember that so you can correct me when, after tomorrow’s ride I claim that we’ve already logged 9,573 miles on the trip . . .

One other thing. After a long hiatus Diana is back on Strava. If you’re a Strava person you can follow us directly there. Otherwise, the Maps page should also start showing where we’ve been . . .

We’re missing everyone already. Hope your comments and feedback will help us feel connected. 

Onward.