Salk Centre, MN to Litchfield, MN. 57.7 miles.
Having checked-in to the campground the night before, I wasn't aware of the beauty I was surrounded by. The campground sat alongside a lake with lots of grass and trees.
It was then that I came to the conclusion that "Ding Dong" was the sound of the forklift backing up in the kitchen as it moved my omelete from the pan to my platter, unable to avoid having it hang off both ends.
After packing up, I found the campground host that I had talked to the night before. "You must be the biker - I guess you made it!", he said as I walked up to his motor home. He was very friendly, and we spoke for a while about my trip and adventures. Before leaving, I asked him for a breakfast recommendation. Knowing that I was headed down the Lake Wobegon Trail, he told me of a great "locals" place that I can access directly from the trail. "When you're riding down the trail, look for the Pepsi sign - It's the Ding Dong Cafe", he told me. "Really?", I thought to myself. That's an interesting name. Sure enough, there it was alongside the trail.
It was a very small cafe, with one room as you enter the front door with about 8 tables, and a small counter with 4-5 stools. While looking over the menu, I heard the phone ring. The nice waitress with her apron on and hair pulled back into a ponytail answered the phone, "Ding Dong.", and then proceeded to go over the daily specials. "Today we've got Fish Dinner, Meatloaf, Grilled Roast Beef with Potato Salad, Fish Burger with Cheese, and Cheesy Potato Soup."
I was curious about the name of this place. The decor on the walls was train-related. Maybe "Ding Dong" is the sound of the bells of the old steam-driven locomotives? The place was located on the old rail line. I ordered the "Ding Dong" omelete, stuffed with bacon, cheese, onions, and mushrooms, because it seemed like the right thing to do in a place like this. They set my breakfast plate on the table. Like standing at the base of a giant redwood tree in a forest, having trouble comprehending the immense size, I was similarly dazed by the size of my omelete.
I wasn't on the Lake Wobegon Trail for more than 5 miles heading Southeast out of Salk Centre when I came upon Highway 4. It was here that I would take a detour from the Adventure Cycling Association mapped route I had been using all along. The reason for my detour, to head to the town of Litchfield, about 75 miles West of Minneapolis, to visit my cousin, Claudia, and her husband Andrew and my Godchild, now almost 3 years-old, Evelyn (aka: The Bromans). I was using some recommendations from Claudia, plus the Google Maps bicycle routing. It's a little tricky to find routes that have wider shoulders, less traffic, good road surface conditions, etc. The roads I chose turned out to be fine. I was riding into the wind, and it was very humid.
Along the way, I rode under a set of large powerlines. A helicopter was hoisting equipment to workers suspended on the lines. The workers would connect whatever the helicopter dropped off, then roll along the line to the next installation point, waiting for the helicopter to return.
About half-way to Litchfield, I arrived at Paynesville. I stopped at a gas station for a drink and asked one of the employees, a girl in her late teens, if she could recommend a cafe. She gave me directions to the Wishing Well Cafe, stating that they had good food and home-baked pies, and she knew first-hand as she used to work there.
The Wishing Well was everything I could have wished for and more. The service was great. The young server, out of school for the Summer and working to earn some money, was very friendly.
I ordered lunch including a glass of water. Not paying attention, she brought me a glass of ice, but forgot to add the water. We laughed about it, and I told her that she actually brought me exactly what I had ordered - I just wasn't specific as to how much of that water I wanted in the solid vs. liquid state. While I was eating, a family of four older folks came in, and approached me having seen my bicycle outside with the sign, to verify that I was really riding my bike across the U.S. "How did you get here?", the one gentleman asked. "Well", I replied, "A nice young lady at the gas station recomended this place, and said they had great pies - I've got my eye on the peach pie a la mode!" He clarified his question by asking what road I navigated into town. We laughed about that. They were then seated by the waitress.
After finishing my sandwich, the peach pie a la mode arrived. It was outstanding. When the check was delivered to the table, the waitress told me that the peach pie was paid for by the family across the way. Wow, what a nice surprise. The waitress explained as I was paying that the nice gesture was what they call around here, "Minnesota Nice". I stopped by their table before leaving to thank them, and give them my website address.
Back outside, I wheeled my bike down to the intersection, then hopped on. As I started through the intersection, I noticed an atypical sound coming from the tires rolling on the pavement. I looked down, and the darn back tire was flat again. Arrrggg! Now through the intersection, I pulled up in front of "Bloom Coffee and Floral", began offloading my bags, and flipped the bike upside down to work on it.
I was out of new tubes, so my only hope was to find the hole and patch it. I removed the tube and added air to it, listening for the leak. I couldn't hear it. Then, a young man poked his head out of the business I was working in front of. "Is everything ok?", he asked. Hudson was his name. I told him the situation, and we talked for a bit. Then, he said, "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?" I thought about it, while still trying to find the leak. "Yeah, as a matter of fact - Do you have a bucket of water I could use?", I asked him. He disappeared for two minutes, then came out with the bucket I needed, filled to the brim. Hudson kept me company while I rotated the tube slowly through the bucket until we both saw the bubbles coming up. "There it is!", he exclaimed.
I noticed that it was in the same place as the other leaks. On closer inspection of the tire, the original puncture I had from the rock in Montana had created a hole in the tire that was big enough to allow small bits of sand or other grains of dirt to work their way toward the tube, eventually causing reoccurring leaks. What I needed to eliminate this vulnerability was a "tire boot", a patch of sorts for the tire (in addition to a patch for the tube). Had I patched the tire originally after the first flat, I probably wouldn't have experienced the subsequent flats that kept happening in the same place.
Without a boot, I used a tube patch to reinforce the tire, in addition to sealing up the tube. It's difficult to get a good seal with a tube patch out on the road. Small bits of dust or dirt can create little paths along the patch that let the air slowly out. What I needed at this point was a seal good enough to get me the rest of the way to Litchfield.
Hudson's parents, Robin and Karlene, who are the owners of Bloom Coffee and Floral, showed up and were very interested and supportive of my trip. Robin gave me a card with their cell-phone numbers and told me, "Now, when you ride down the road, if you have any more trouble before Litchfield, you just give me a call and I will pick you up with my truck and take you the rest of the way." I definitely had a double-helping of "Minnesota Nice" on what was turning out to be a fine day. Thank you Hudson, Robin, and Karlene!
I sent an email to Claudia to let her know that I was going to be delayed at the start of my tire repair. By the time I was done, her reply came through and she said, "Whenever you arrive you can have baked ham with onion drippings, fresh green beans, ciabatta buns, mashed potatoes, and then you can have a Klondike bar or 2, or 3, and watermelon!". I was very excited to say the least.
Along the way, picturesque farms with their red barns surrounded by fields of corn and soybean covered most of the landscape.
The low-angled sunlight accented the contrast between fields of corn and freshly-mowed hay fields.
Rows of soybean, so perfectly spaced, curved around in places, as if the farmer was taking a creative approach to add some artistic flair to his fields.
In Stearns County, a sign in a corn field read, "Welcome to Stearns County - No Collective Bargaining". I'm not sure if this is a grumpy farmer's sentiment, or a more pervasive political stance within the county, but it certainly isn't middle-class worker-friendly.
A bit further down the road, I noticed several signs promoting different candidates for Sheriff. Apparently, the incumbent is out and the seat is open. There's at least 5 or 6 candidates running for the position, including "John Wayne", apparently.
In a small town near Litchfield, I passed "Evelyn Street", a "sign" that I would soon be with family, including my God-daughter, first introduced to me when I traveled to Ashland Wisconsin in January of 2012 for her baptism when she was around 5-months old. This would be the second time I would see her.
Now almost age 3, she has been apparently following my blog with her parents, anxiously awaiting my arrival, and making observations from the pictures such as, "He has a whiskers", or "He can swim in a pool, Wow!".
I arrived just after 8 pm at Andrew and Claudia's home, Evelyn already asleep. They were sitting on the porch, awaiting my arrival. I was so happy to be with them, and would spend two nights at their home, enjoying their company, their wonderful food they provided me, and attending the town parade, part of the annual Litchfield Watercade festival with events planned all weekend.
So glad you could come and visit along your trip! Evelyn enjoyed your time here and is a bit disappointed that we are not as entertaining as you are. =) I realize after reading your blog that I forgot to give you ice cream when you came here. The best of intentions... Sorry about that! Hope the time along the river is treating you well.
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