A Very Literary Day

September 10, 2024

The Lake Wobegon Trail

Afternoon, evening and morning alike, I truly enjoyed my campsite view of the lake. What I didn't appreciate was the lack of privacy. My site had a decent amount of separation from the large recreational vehicles parked all around me, but I still felt all too visible. I hate to say it, but this was one day in my life in which I would have appreciated a phalanx of view-blockers.

While preparing my coffee, one of the RV owners wandered over to my site and asked, "you aren't one of those crazy cross-country bikers are you?"

"No, not this time," I answered. "I'm just on a little three-day trip from St. Cloud to Lindbergh State Park to here, and back to St. Cloud."

I was hoping the conversation would end there, but he went on to tell me about how he and his wife are celebrating their 59th wedding anniversary, about how they live in Litchfield, about how he was an iron worker before retiring, about some of the projects he worked on in the Twin Cities, about how he was often required to work hundreds of feet above the ground, etc., etc.

It wasn't so much his stories that annoyed me as it was the smell of his constantly burning un-filtered cigarette. During a convenient break in his monologue, I finally said, "Well, I've got to finish packing my gear now. You two have a happy anniversary."

"And you have a safe trip," was his reply.

A couple of other people stopped by to see what I was up to, but those conversations were mercifully short. It seemed the only person who didn't stop for a visit was a fellow bike tourist who rode through the campground a couple of times last night. I waved to him, and he waved back while he passed my campsite. Then he set up camp a little way up the road.

I was curious about what was probably the most heavily loaded bike I had ever seen--in real life or in journals--but not so curious that I'd go over there and invade his privacy. He didn't ask about my tour, so I assumed he was even more anti-social than I am.

************

I packed up and hit the road. I had a giant of early 20th century literature to meet. That's right, I'm not the only famous writer from the State of Minnesota.

Sinclair Lewis was born right here in Sauk Centre. His authorship of such American classics as Main Street, Babbit, Arrowsmith, and Elmer Gantry earned him both a Pulitzer Prize and a Nobel Prize for literature. (Can you name the 2nd Minnesotan to win a Nobel Prize for literature? If you guessed F. Scott Fitzgerald, you'd be wrong. The correct answer is Bob Dylan.)

While riding the trail out of the Sinclair Lewis City Park, I quite unexpectedly came across a tribute to another Minnesota literary figure. It was a park bench dedicated to Wanda Gag, who wrote the children's classic "Millions of Cats." The bench was painted in the style of Wanda's book. I think the only reason it caught my eye is that I had read that book to my kids so many years ago.

A little later, while navigating my way to Sinclair Lewis's boyhood home, I came across some unique street art. I took several photos of the gallery but, in the interest of brevity, I'm only going to post three.

My cartoon alter-ego got in on this cartoon photo. He's the one swearing.

I need to turn right here to get to Sinclair's house.

I was going to tell the story about how Sauk Centre (pronounced sauk center) pretty much disowned the author after his book "Main Street" came out. The citizenry thought his satire of small town life was about them. By posting this sign located outside the public library, I saved myself from having to relate the whole story.

The Lake Wobegon Trail itself has a more recent literary connection. It's named after Garrison Keillor's fictional prairie town in which "all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average."

A forested section of the Lake Wobegon Trail.

A collection of memorabilia on private property along the trail.

A cattail and corn section of the Lake Wobegon Trail.

Downtown Albany, a town on the Lake Wobegon Trail.

Outside of Albany, I came across a group of 30 in-line skaters coming from the other direction. Their rate of speed and their wobbliness made it clear they were beginners, but they were cheerful and most of them said "hi" to me and I said "hi" to them.

Between talking to the people at the campground and saying "hi" to all those skaters, it was easily the heaviest use of my vocal cords on this trip. In fact, it was probably the most words I've spoken in a single day on any of my recent tours.

A lake section of the Lake Wobegon Trail

A cattail section of the Lake Wobegon Trail.

Just when I was thinking I didn't have to do anymore talking to people, along came a large group of teenagers riding bicycles. We exchanged "hi's", "hello's", and "good mornings". They appeared to be connected to the in-line skaters I saw earlier. Both of those groups looked like they were learning new ways to enjoy the great outdoors.

A pond-er-riffic section of the Lake Wobegon Trail

If The Feeshko were to read this journal someday, I hope she'll be proud that she influenced me to include people in almost all of my pictures today. I think I get it now.

Another cattail section of the Lake Wobegon Trail.

A Greg section of the Lake Wobegon Trail.

The St. Joseph, MN station of the trail had an emergency cardiac resuscitation station. Thank goodness I didn't have to use it, and I hope no other bike rider ever has to use it.

This is partly a thumbs-up to a pretty nice rail-trail and partly a thumbs-up to finally getting off of it.

Indeed, as trail riding goes, it was pretty nice. But 40 miles of it was too much. It was easily the longest stretch of rail trail I've ever ridden.

The thing is, once you commit to it, there aren't a lot of options to get off the trail and still make it to St. Cloud in one day. (Correction: twenty years ago I might have been willing and able to add an extra 20-30 miles to do so. Not today.)

At the end of the trail came an industrial district followed by heavy traffic through a stretch of chain restaurants, shopping centers, and other retail trade. I pedaled hard through all that stuff, but I stopped for one more picture.

There has been some mention of bell towers in a couple of recent Cycleblaze journals. Here is my entry into that category. This one isn't Belgian though. It has more of a Scandinavian look.

I made it back to the Bloody Stinking Chrysler van, which, despite all its faults, displays a love of literature.

Heart

Comment

Link

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	9
Comment on this entry	Comment	0