MINNESOTA, USA: CAMPING ROAD TRIP, AUGUST/SEPTEMBER, 2019

Mississauga, Ontario-Victoria, MN. Travelling across Minnesota. Driving back to Mississauga, ON

This is a GOOGLE MAP showing all the trips in Ontario, Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota described in this blog.

Chutes Provincial Park, Ontario—campsite number 100

August 11-13, 2019: Driving from Mississauga to Victoria, MN.

I have to admit—I do not like driving, particularly alone, and especially on highways. I find it tiring and tedious, particularly when there is nobody else to talk to and the 90% of the surrounding scenery consists of the unexciting view of the highway. Even though I do listen to the radio and audio books, occasionally somnolence takes over, which I cannot combat with a cup of coffee or just a brief break—I must pull over and take a short nap. I know that if I ever became a professional driver, especially driving huge semis across the continent, my job would not last long; it would either end by me quitting or in a more spectacular and catastrophic manner. But sometimes we have no alternative but drive, as was the case now. The distance between Toronto and Minneapolis is about 1,700 km and most drivers can cover it in two days, with just one overnight stop. I, on the other hand, decided to extend this trip and spend 4 days on the road, trying to enjoy it as much as possible.

Bewabic State Park, Michigan, campsite number 43

I left Mississauga, Ontario early morning on Monday, August 11, 2019. The drive on Highway 400 and later on the 17 was problem-free, as most of the traffic was heading in the opposite direction. I stopped only once in Pointe-au-Barril (my traditional stopover while driving north), where I had a 30 minute nap near the LCBO store. I was surprised at the price of gas, it was about 20 cents per liter higher than that in Toronto. The only other stop I made was in the town of Espanola. I went to a grocery store, The Independent, got salad for lunch, then quickly checked out the Hart store and the Giant Tiger, but did not find anything worth buying. I arrived at Chutes Provincial Park at 4:00 pm and got campsite number 100 [N46° 13.251' W82° 04.382'], very close to the falls and to campsites #98 and #95, where Catherine and I had camped on in the past. I quickly set up the tent, grabbed my book, "Deep in the Russian Night" by Aaron Chazan and went down to the falls. I found a natural 'chair' carved in the rock, from where I could watch and listen to the rapids. I was quite tired and must have fallen asleep for several minutes. At about 6:00 pm I was back at the campsite. A camper was now parked at an adjacent campsite, its generator running! Fortunately, very few people use generators in Ontario parks (if they need electricity, they simply pick electric campsites), they are very noisy and I strongly believe they should be banned, period. I was also surprised that it was legal to run generators in the radio-free campground—it was only later that I found out that generators were actually NOT permitted in such campgrounds! It was a pity that I never saw even one park employee drive or walk in the campground in order to enforce the rules. Besides, whereas there was a big sign stating "Radio-free zone", it said nothing about generators. I turned in just past 9:00 pm and woke up early in the morning.

Chippewa Campground in Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, campsite number S-5

I quickly packed up the tent and continued my journey on highway 17, stopping for lunch at a picnic area just before the bridge to Joseph Island-Catherine and I had stopped at that place several times. Finally I reached Sault Ste. Marie, drove over the impressive bridge, half of which belonged to the USA, and reached the US border booth. This time the US customs official only asked me if I had any food-I gave her a list of what I was bringing-but she was mainly interested in fruits and vegetables. She also ask me about the purpose of my trip ("camping, biking and canoeing") and how long I was going to stay ("end of September"). That was all and thus I entered the United States of America!

Chippewa Campground in Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, WI campsite number S-5

A month before, having done some quick research on State Parks in Michigan, I decided to stay in Bewabic State Park, south of Marquette. I drove mainly on highway 28, where we had driven 2 years ago, albeit in the opposite direction. It was a very pleasant drive, not boring at all. I arrived at Bewabic Park late afternoon and as per the recommendation of the park's employee, I got campsite number 43 [N46° 05.276' W88° 25.957']. It was one of the few non-electrical sites in the campground. Since it was Monday, there were many vacant sites-but of course the park became quite full over the weekend. A sheriff deputy slowly drove on the park’s roads and I spent some time chatting with him. I was awaken in the middle of the night—it was raining as well as the temperature must have dropped quite significantly. Indeed, it was just +13° C in the morning-and the previous day the mercury hit almost +30° C! I took advantage of the shower facilities, yet since one shower stall was broken, I ended up waiting for over 20 minutes to get in. Then I packed and headed towards Minneapolis, planning to spend another night in one of the National Forests in Wisconsin. On my way I visited a National Forest office/information center and according to the obtained information, I proceeded towards Medford, Wisconsin, which I briefly visited and drove back north. Fortunately, there were good signs pointing to the campgrounds and I drove to the Chippewa Campground in Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, picking campsite number S-5 in the Beaver Loop [N45° 13.388' W90° 42.484']. Incidentally, while driving in the forest, I saw some black shape crossing the road some 50 meters ahead, yet I could not tell if it was a black bear—or just a big, black dog. There was a self-serve payment station and the cost was $15 per night. Several campers, including the campground host, occupied campsites here and there, but there were plenty of vacant sites. I quickly set up the tent, opened a bottle of red wine and continued reading “Deep in the Russian Night”. As it got dark, I went to the tent and quickly fell asleep. The campground had showers, requiring a token ($1 per 5 minutes of showering).

That day my car's odometer's hit the 200,000 km mark!

Since the last part of my trip was relatively short, I woke up after 10 am, had a simple breakfast and left the campground at noon. Soon I got on the I-94. That day my car's odometer's hit the 200,000 km mark-considering I bought it in 2002, I had not done that much driving.

I stopped in the town of Menomonie-I had to ask a local resident how to properly pronounce the name of the town. It was named for the original inhabitants of the area, the Menominee. The name derived from the Ojibwe language word The Menominee, derived from the Algonquin language word for "Wild Rice People"; known as Mamaceqtaw, "the people", in the Menominee language. Menominee are a federally recognized nation of Native Americans. The tribe currently has about 8,700 members and a 353.894 sq mi (916.581 km 2) reservation in Wisconsin.

The Panther Distillery in Osakis, MN

The city had a Walmart Store, Aldi, and plenty other stores, yet when I asked a young employee where I could find a pay phone, everyone looked at me puzzled… such a thing simply did not exist anymore! I did have a simple cell phone with me, but I had not had any coverage for almost 2 days and was unable to make or receive any phone calls.

Just before St. Paul/Minneapolis, I turned south from I-94 to I-494, thus by-passing the metropolitan area in the south. The traffic was not bad in comparison with that in Toronto. On my left I saw the St. Paul/Minneapolis airport and the Best Buy head office. Then I took highway 12 and soon arrived in Victoria, Minnesota. Of course, the door to Catherine’s house was unlocked, so I entered, but she was nowhere to be found, despite my calling her loudly. Eventually I checked out the porch and there she was, along with Autumn, her 6-month old granddaughter, whom I saw for the first time; she was smiling and curiously looking at me.

Lake Carlos State Park in Minnesota, campsite number 17

August 18, 2019, driving from Victoria, MN to Lake Carlos State Park, MN

We left Victoria, MN and headed towards Lake Carlos State Park. Instead of taking the freeway (i.e., I-94), I programmed the GPS to avoid highways-this was the first time I used this feature and it turned out to be very useful. So we drove on many county roads, passing through Buffalo, Monticello, Big Lake, Foley, Little Falls and Long Prairie. We stopped at the Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge. There was a relatively short Mahnomen Trail, skirting Rice Lake, where wild rice grew in abundance. In fact, “Mahnomen” is an Ojibwe word for wild rice. It is derived from “Manitou”, meaning “Great Spirit” and “meenum”, meaning delicacy. Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge lies within the transitional zone between the deciduous hardwood forest and the tall-grass prairie. Oak savanna, the predominant plant community, had both forest and prairie plants and animals. It is maintained by natural disturbances, such as fire, wind storms and disease. Hardwood forest replaced oak savanna in this area when European settlers stopped wild fires, which had occurred every 3 to 10 years and killed most trees and shrubs, with the majority of their growth above ground—on the other hand, oak savanna habitat, with up to 75% of their growth underground, were able to regrow and thrive and the corky bark of mature bur oaks withstood the fiery flames. The refuge is restoring oak savanna through prescribed burning and allowing nature to run its course when storms and natural tree diseases occur. Dead trees are left standing because they are valuable wildlife habitat. Yet today less than 0.02% of the once vast oak savanna remains.

Biking near Osakis, MN

We proceeded up north and finally arrived at Lake Carlos State Park, located north of the city of Alexandria. After talking to a very nice park employee for a while, we drove to our campsite number 17 in the Upper Campground [N46° 00.243' W95° 20.237']. Unfortunately, there were two motor homes nearby on non-electric sites, running semi-quiet generators. Cathy called the park ranger and was told that it was legal to run generators from 8:00 am to 10:00 pm. Since all the other campsites located farther from the motor-home were reserved, we decided to stay on ours. It was actually quite private and well-treed. We set up the tent and had a nice campfire.

Alexandria, MN--a giant Viking statue, Big Ole

Carlos Lake State Park had two separate campgrounds, the Upper (where we stayed and where several cabins were) and the Lower, right by the lake. There were several trails in the park, the beach and a boat launch, since many people brought motorboats and kayaks. Surprisingly, there was an alcohol ban in this park—and in ALL state parks in Minnesota! Even Cathy was not aware of this rather unusual policy, which made her very, very sad... Provincial Parks in Ontario allowed consumption of alcoholic beverages at campsites and there was only a temporary ban during the Victoria Day long weekend in mid-May.

The staff was nice, the bathrooms were clean and before midnight the park was very quiet. Remarkably, there were almost no mosquitoes and our campsite was visited by any raccoons or other pesky critters. One night we heard coyotes howling. While driving to the park, we saw many deer, some were in farmers' fields, presumably eating corn.

Alexandria, MN--a giant Viking statue, Big Ole

August 19, 2019, Monday-at Lake Carlos State Park, MN, #17—biking from Nelson to Osakis. The Panther Distillery.

We drove to a small town of Nelson and parked the car at the corner of Nelson Street and the Central Lakes Trail. The 14 feet wide and 55 mile long paved trail travels through one of the most beautiful lake regions in the country. It starts in Fergus Falls and ends in the town of Osakis, where it connects to the Lake Wobegon Trail, adding 48 more miles to the route, making the two trails together the longest continuous paved trail-trail in the country.

Lake Carlos State Park in Minnesota, campsite number 17

Nelson was a very small community, with a bar, eatery and a liquor store. It was a very hot and sunny day, perhaps not the best for biking, but we would rather bike in the sun than in the rain. We headed towards the east, passing through farmers' fields, with horses and crops. Six miles later we stopped in the town of Osakis' Chambers of Commerce. A very-well informed employee told us a lot of interesting facts about this small town (it took its name from nearby Lake Osakis which, in turn, received its English name by translation from the Ojibwe Ozaagi-zaaga'igan, meaning "the Sauk's Lake), its own police force of 5, voluntary fire fighters and the whiskey distillery, offering tours and sampling. Since neither of us had ever visited a distillery, we decided to ride there. The Panther Distillery—named after its owner's last name—is Minnesota's first craft distillery. It uses locally-grown, hand-selected ingredients to make whiskey and spirits. Where we arrived, a very nice lady working there gave us a quick tour of the distillery. We saw huge vats where the fermentation process took place and the equipment used for distilling the final product. Of course, it took at least 2 years for that alcohol to become whiskey, by storing it in wooden barrels. At the end we purchased a bottle of maple-flavored whiskey which was excellent!

We also took a quick tour of the town. Its Main Street had many buildings dating back to late 1800s and early 1900s, a grain elevator from 1912 and a United Methodist Church of Osakis—incorporated in 1869, it is the oldest church in Douglas County. The ride back to Nelson was uneventful. We were quite thirsty and went to the well-stocked liqueur store, bought a couple of cans of cold beer and drove back to the campsite.

August 20, 2019, Tuesday. Driving to Alexandria and biking from Alexandria to Garfield on the Central Trail.

It rained a lot overnight, but our “Eureka” tent stayed dry. It stopped raining just when we woke up and it soon became a little sunny, so we decided to go biking again. We drove to Alexandria, which was a quiet big town. We parked at Big Ole Park, near Lake Agnes—Alexandria had plenty of lakes of various size. The park was named after one of the most eye-catching landmark in Alexandria, a giant Viking statue, Big Ole. The 28 foot, 4 ton structure, was made in 1964 and accompanied the Kensington Rune Stone to the 1965 World's Fair in New York for the display "Minnesota, Birthplace of America". Nowadays the imposing statue was located in the park.

Just a stone's throw away was the Runestone Museum, exhibiting the Kensington Rune Stone. Personally, I found the story of this artifact fascinating, yet somehow unbelievable: in 1898, farmer Olof Ohman found a stone in the roots of an aspen tree. It was 31" x 16" x 6" and weighted 202 lbs. On the stone were Nordic runes with the following inscription:

“Eight Götalanders and 22 Northmen on (this?) exploration journey from Vinland far to the west. We had a camp by two (shelters?) one day's journey north from this stone. We were fishing one day. After we came home, found 10 men red from blood and dead. Ave Maria save from evil. (side of stone) There are 10 men by the inland sea to look after our ships fourteen days journey from this peninsula (or island). Year 1362.”

The stone became known as the Kensington Rune Stone and since its discovery, there has been controversy surrounding the stone's authenticity. The only confirmed Norse site in Vineland (North America) is in Newfoundland and dates back to about 1000. Archaeological studies suggest the site, L'Anse aux Meadows, served as a base and winter camp for expeditions to the Gulf of St. Lawrence and Hudson Bay. Around 1355, King Magnus Erickson sent an expedition to Greenland. They discovered the settlement had immigrated to the mainland. Did Norse explorers make their way to Minnesota? I doubt! In any way, the stone has put the city of Alexandria on the world map!

I also picked a painted stone, left in the bathroom by the camp hostess and her granddaughter, a very dexterous and intelligent girl.

The Central Trail cut through the park and soon we were raiding on it. Less than one hundred meters from the park was a restaurant housed in the former railway station. The railway arrived in Alexandria in 1878 and by 1913, there was a steady stream of Great Northern Railroad passenger and freight service-up to 12 passenger trains passed through the city each day. In the 1950s train travel started to decline due to automobile use and in 1971 passenger train service was stopped along this stretch of railroad. In 1992 the final train rolled down the track s towards Fargo and within a few months the rails in the Alexandria area were removed. The rail corridor from Fergus Falls to Osakis was purchased by the State of Minnesota and in 2005, the Central Lakes State Trail was officially completed.

Near Alexandria, MN

This time we rode from Alexandria to Garfield. We passed industrial areas and mainly farmers' fields and lakes. In Garfield, a very small town, we had a draft beer at The Fire Station Pub. The Indian Pale Ale Hawaiian beer, called "Kona", was outstanding-so much so that after riding back to Alexandria, we stopped at a liquor store and bought a 12-bottle sampler of Kona beer. In Garfield we spoke to a local couple who were trimming trees so someone could mow and bale the hay on the right-of-way. She told us her son worked for the Schwan’s Company head office and he was sent to England. We also drove on Alexandria' main street, full of big box retailers and spent some time at a Goodwill Store. Overall, we rode 29.5 km and were not tired at all.

View from Inspiration Hill

While heading towards our Lake Carlos Park, we saw a corn stand. Catherine made a U-turn and as we were heading up the incline, we hit the payment and suddenly she remarked that the bikes were gone! I got out of the car and I could not believe what I saw: the whole rack with our two bikes got detached and way lying just off the road!!! We put it back on, but the consequences could have been devastating! In Victoria, just before we left, Cathy and I had put the bike rack on together and I personally had made sure it was properly installed. It should have NEVER got separated like that—it was a very scary experience for both of us.

The sun was just about to set when we reached the campsite. In no time we had a campfire going and soon enjoyed tasty ribs, corn and Hawaiian beer.

Our Lady of the Hills

August 21, 2019, Wednesday, “Our Lady of the Hills”, Inspiration Peak, biking around Fergus Falls.

I spent a few hours in the morning writing the blog and we left the campsite after 3:00 pm. Our plan was to get to Fergus Falls (about 50 miles) and then bike to Dalton and back, 20 miles altogether. We deliberately programmed the GPS to take us through county roads instead of the freeway. We passed plenty of farmlands, lakes and forests-as well as small towns. Catherine had read about a statue of Mary near the town of Millersville. There was a big Catholic church in town and a church employee gave us further directions to the statue. After a short drive on county roads, we saw the statue, "Our Lady of the Hills". According to the attached plaque, it was dedicated on May 13, 1992, on the 75th anniversary of Our Lady of Fatima and donated by William and Viola Danelke for promises kept in the healing of cancer. A photocopy of a newspaper article provided further details: as a young man, Bill Danelke developed cancer in a gland beneath his jaw bone. His mother said he could get help from the Virgin Mary if he prayed to her. Danelke and his mother did pray, the operation went fine and he has not had reoccurrence of the cancer since. It took 50 years, but he kept his word!

Our Lady of the Hills, guest book

Not far from the statue we saw another sign, "Inspiration Peak". Rising 400 feet above the surrounding country side, Inspiration Peak and the glacial deposits known as Leaf Hills are the highest point in Central Minnesota. The hills that include Inspiration Peak were known to the Ojibwe as "Gaskibugwudjiwe", or "Rusting Leaf Mountain". Sinclair Lewis, a Nobel Prize-winning novelist from Minnesota, inspired its current name. It became the official name when the site was designated a Minnesota State Wayside in 1932. The author wrote, "From its 'bald top', there is to be seen a glorious 20- mile circle of some 50 lakes scattered among fields and pastures, like sequins fallen on an old Paisley shawl." Praising "the enchanting peace and seclusion of this place for contemplation", Lewis at the same time chided Minnesota's for not knowing about their own "haunts of beauty" and added that `he might write to the governor, ‘skiing His Excellency if he has ever `stood on Inspiration Peak."

Finally we arrived at Fergus Falls and parked at De Lagoon Park and Recreation Area, where the trail commenced. There were many campsites in the park, some for tents, some fully-serviced for campers. I believe the price was $10 and $20 per night, respectively.

Crow Wing State Park, MN. Our campsite number 30 was just meters from the Mississippi River

Since it was relatively late, we knew that it would be impossible for us to reach Dalton, yet we managed to ride more than half the way and then turned back. It was a very nice trail, again passing thought farmlands, lakes and very few roads. Altogether we rode 22.2 km. Then we drove on Fergus Falls' main street, full of typical 19th and early 20th century buildings. Later we drove to Dollar Tree (a popular chain of stores where everything-and I mean everything-cost one dollar!) to purchase a few things. I spent several minutes talking to Anthony, one of its very nice and chatty employees. He told us that his son was 25 years old-and he and his wife had just had a baby that was 3 months old.

Crow Wing State Park, MN, campsite number 30

The drive back to the park took us almost over one hour-although we drove on the I-94 for a while, then we ended up on various county roads and every few miles we had to make left or right turns. We reached the park before 10:00 pm and decided to skip both our dinner and the campfire.

I also picked a painted stone, left in the bathroom by the camp hostess and her granddaughter, a very dexterous and intelligent girl.

At the Mississippi River, not far from our campsite in Crow Wing State Park

August 22, 2019, Thursday. Biking from Alexandria to Nelson.

Catherine looked at the map in the morning, trying to find the Soo/Wobegon Trail, but since it would be a 60 mile-drive each way, we decided to go biking from Alexandria to Nelson and back. We rode to Nelson and stopped at the outdoor patio for beer, an IPA (Indian Pale Ale), which was excellent. Cathy met some people who used to live close to her ex-husband's house. The lady was a kindergarten teacher in the school district where Cathy had worked from 1999 to 2006. We chatted with them about their trip to Banff and their cabin on Lake Carlos. Then we rode back to Alexandria, had a picnic and then popped into Aldi and Dollar Tree.

Crow Wing-commercial district, the town well was here

August 23, 2019, Friday. Leaving Lake Carlos State Park and Arriving at Crow Wing State Park. Biking on the Paul Bunyan State Trail to Baxter.

In the morning we packed up and headed to our second park in Minnesota, Crow Wing State Park. We stopped in a small town called Staples, where I expected to find Staples’ (the office supplies company) Head Office or, at least, a Staples store; instead we found a second-hand store where I purchased for $2.00 a bird clock, which Catherine had purchased 20 years ago for $30! (At this point I might add that the clock has been since adoring my office and a different bird sings every hour, to the amusement of my clients!) There was a plumbing store across the street and I noticed that the plumber parked his truck, leaving the windows open and the key in the ignition.

    "I guess it's a very safe town", I said to him. 

     "Yes, it is. Everybody knows everybody and you don't have to lock your cars".

Well, I wonder how long it would take for the truck to disappear in a big city?

We arrived at Crow Wing State Park and got to our campsite number 30 [N46° 16.901' W94° 19.788'], only to discover that the amphitheater was right behind our campsite.

"At least we don't have to leave the campsite to participate in presentations", I said. “We can hear, and even watch performances from our campsite.”

Thankfully, there were none during our stay. Otherwise the campsite was spacious and we could almost see the Mississippi River flowing by. The river was quite narrow and in spite of my expectations, I did not see any barges or Huck Finn paddling the raft on the river…

Chicken Mushroom

Once I set up the tent, I noticed the most beautiful chicken mushrooms growing on a fallen tree. I immediately grabbed my camera and took several photos. I was so engrossed in this activity that I did not notice the poison ivy that was growing everywhere and I must have certainly touched it. I immediately washed my hands with soap. I know that some people are immune to this bothersome plant and to be honest, I suspected that I did have some kind of immunity because I had touched it many years ago (I did not know at that time it was poison ivy) and I had not experienced any problems. This time I only got a harmless blister that disappeared several days later, yet even now, in 2023, I can see a scar. In fact, we saw a LOT of poison ivy everywhere—at campsites, along trails and park paths. Turning back to the chicken mushroom—I did not think it was very common as it was perhaps 4th or 5th time I saw one. It was edible, but only the soft parts of young specimen, otherwise they were quite tough. That was why I always let them be!

The main street of Crow Wing ran here!

Later that afternoon we jumped on the bikes and headed off towards Baxter on the Paul Bunyan State Trail. It was the most beautiful trail we rode in Minnesota! It was paved, meandering through the pine forest and pretty flat. We met up with a fellow biker from the area who offered to escort us to Brainerd which he said was off-trail and confusing. We rode with him to the outskirts of Baxter (crossing the Mississippi River). Since it was getting late, we decided to return to our campsite and Ron-that was his name-accompanied us back to mile one.

Crow Wing State Park, located at the confluence of the Crow Wind and Mississippi rivers, had a very rich history. The rivers had been important canoe and trade routes for hundreds of years.

The historical plaque in the park provided a brief history of this place:

Old Crow Wing

Few spots in Minnesota are richer in historical lore than Old Crow Wing. Here in 1768, the Sioux suffered a significant defeat in their long struggle to regain central Minnesota from the invading Chippewa. A British fur trader wintered at the mouth of the Crow Wing River as early as 1771, and by 1823, the American Fur Company may have established a post under Allan Morrison. During the next two decades, he and others like Benjamin F. ("Blue Beard") Baker, Clement H. Beaulieu, and William A. Aitkin operated trading stations here. With the decline of the fur trade in the 1840s, Crow Wing became an outfitting center, serving the oxcart trains on the "woods" Red River Trail, which crossed the Mississippi here.

The 1850s saw Catholic and Episcopal missions established, and the village became headquarters for the powerful Chippewa chief, Hole-in-the-Day. Crow Wing reached its peak in the 1860s, with a population of nearly 600 and thirty or so buildings including another mission, this one operated by German Lutherans. Rotgut whiskey flowed freely; brawling and robbery were commonplace. In 1868, the Indians were removed to the White Earth Reservation, and in 1871, the Northern Pacific Railroad bypassed Crow Wing, building to Brainerd instead. Within a half dozen years, the old trading settlement had become one of Minnesota's many ghost towns.

Crow Wing, a replica of an original building

Indeed, today there is very little to see of the old settlement and one would have to almost entirely rely on his imagination were it not for many signs posted on the self-guiding trail, which depicted old buildings and other landmarks, as well as a map. The swath of land where the town’s commercial district use to be included several buildings; today their location can only be determined by the remaining cellar depressions. One of such sites is the town well, where “not only water was obtained there, but town news ran close second”. Don’t office workers get their information nowadays while congregating around a water dispenser?

Peguot, MN—the old train station

August 24, 2019, Saturday. Biking to the town of Pequot.

We discovered there was a big bike festival in Brainerd, so we drove to the Nisswa trail-head where we commenced our trip northbound to Pequot Lake and back. In the town of Pequot we stopped for drinks as well as went to the Chamber of Commerce, located in an old railway station. The trail was nice, passed some lakes and roads. On our way home we stopped at the Baxter Liquor store and spoke to the proprietor for a while.

Pequot, MN—a historical mural

August 25, 2019, Sunday. Biking on the Paul Bunyan Trail to Merryfield. Moving to a cabin in Crow Wing Park.

Inside the cabin

The weather forecast called for heavy rain, so we rented the only cabin [N46° 16.756' W94° 19.687'] in the park and moved in at 1:00 pm. Then we headed to Brainerd and biked on the Paul Bunyan trail to Merryfield and back. The trail was quite easy and we hardly met any other users. We drove in Brainerd for a while and went to the cabin. We were so glad we rented it, as it was raining the whole night and continued in the morning.

Camp Ripley, MN

August 26, 2019, Monday. Leaving Crow Wind State Park and arriving at Itasca State Park.

We left Crow Wing State Park at 1:00 pm and headed to Itasca State Park, stopping in the town of Akeley in a big thrift store, located in a former school. It is always so much fun to visit such places—you never know what you are going to find! I bought, for just $1.00, a set of CDs “My Life With The Saints” by James Martin, S.J.—and to boot, for the same price I found his book!

Camp Ripley, MN

On our way to the park we stopped at Camp Ripley near Little Falls. It is a 53,000-acre regional training center hosting numerous ranges and state-of-the-art facilities to support the training requirements of military and civilian agencies. The Minnesota Military Museum was located at Camp Ripley and we spent almost two hours—just admiring the outdoor exhibits (vehicles, tanks, aircraft, artillery). One of the more interesting artifacts was the “Merci Train”. It was a “forty and eights’ boxcar (the sign on the side of the boxcar, “40 Hommes et 8 Chevaux”, designated its capacity: 40 men or 8 horses”). It was used throughout France during the first half of the twentieth century, it was well-known to the American servicemen who fought on French Soil during both world wars. “40 & 8” cars especially identify with World War One when they were used widely to move troops from one place in France to another. Let me write more about the history behind this car (as per the information posted inside the boxcar).

Life was very hard in Europe after World War Two. In 1947 an idea nurtured by syndicated columnist Drew Pearson caught the heart and imagination of the American people. It was the American “Friendship Train,”, to be filled with donated food, medicine, vitamins and clothing from throughout the nation and shipped to the needy citizens of France. Friendship Trains chugged around the country, collecting as they went—a spontaneous expression of friendship from people with something to spare to people with less than enough. In return, French veterans started a train of their own, calling it the “Merci” or “Thank You” Train. Into simple 40 & 8 boxcars French men, women and children from every walk of life placed personal items that were dear to them—war medals, delicate embroidery and lace work, tableware, crystal, book, family heirlooms, toys, art—all “…for our unknown American friends.” Forty nice boxcars were filled and shipped to America, one for each state and a half car each for the District of Columbia and Hawaii.

Minnesota’s car arrived in St. Paul on February 13, 1949, decorated with plaques representing each French province and containing thirty-one grates of gifts. A public ceremony on the steps of the Capitol was held the following day. The contents were publicly displayed by the Minnesota Historical Society and eventually distributed throughout the state.

The car itself was turned over to the Minnesota chapter of the 40 & 8 Grand Voiture of the American Legion, which displayed it for many years at the Minnesota State Fair. Today, as a permanent part of the Minnesota Military Museum, it continues to remind us of our nation’s deep and special ties to France.

Besides the train, I was fascinated by the displayed military vehicles, helicopters, tanks and similar equipment.

    “Cathy, would like to see a special transport vehicle for 7 people and one canoe on the roof?” I asked her.

    “Of course”, she said and eagerly followed me. 

     “There it is, the white one”, I said, pointing to… her white Dodge Grand Caravan!

We wished we had gone inside the museum and seen all the other exhibits, but we were running out of time.

Itasca State Park, MN, campsite number 251

We arrived at Itasca State Park in the evening and quickly found our campsite number 251 [N47° 14.191' W95° 11.487']. There were very few people on our loop (Poplar), so we could enjoy almost perfect privacy. Just as I began setting up the tent, it started raining; once the (wet) tent was up, it stopped! We spent some time in the Visitors Center, it was quite remarkable and offered a number of very interesting exhibits. In the evening we had a wonderful fire and went to bed just before midnight.

At the park I found plenty of material on the Mississippi River and the information below come from those sources.

At the source of the Mississippi River

After the Revolutionary War, lands under British rule were acquired by the United States, though the Paris Peace Treaty of 1783. At that time, the Mississippi River was the western-most boundary of the United States and thus it was important to know its true location. A series of explorations to this uncharted region began in 1798. However, the earliest explorers were not successful in charting the river’s source for two primary reasons: a detailed map of the region did not exist at that time, and they did not seek the help of the local American Indians who were familiar with their own homeland. In 1832 American explorer Henry Rowe Schoolcraft asked for the help of an Ojibwe guide named Ozawindib. The Schoolcraft party was led by Ozawindib up the Schoolcraft River and then overland to the source of the Mississippi River which is today called Lake Itasca.

Most researchers believed that Schoolcraft was correct in 1832 when he reported that Lake Itasca was the source of the Mississippi. There was, however, one man who disputed Schoolcraft’s claim.

Willard Glazier, a professional author and adventurer, led a small expedition to Lake Itasca in 1881. They paddled into the west arm of the lake, up a small stream now called Chambers Creek and entered Elk Lake. Since this small stream flowed into Lake Itasca, Glazier determined that Elk Lake was the true source of the Mississippi. He named it Glazier Lake and began a vigorous campaign to have it recognized on maps. It was soon discovered that Glazier had plagiarized Schoolcraft’s journal and that his “undiscovered lake” was really Elk Lake, which had appeared for 45 years on our maps.

For over 9,000 years, the Mississippi has been considered a “great river” by American Indians. At 2,552 miles in length, the Mississippi is the fourth longest river in the world. Numerous small rivers and streams flow into the Mississippi along its course. The largest tributaries are the Missouri and the Ohio Rivers. Together, all these connected rivers and streams make up the largest river system in North America, and have a combined waterway length of more than 15,000 miles. This huge river system drains water from 31 states and two Canadian provinces. The Mississippi begins as a small, narrow stream at its headwaters in Itasca; when it reaches the Gulf of Mexico, it is over 2 miles wide.

And this is the first bridge over the Mississippi River!

Interesting facts:

• The river originally travelled 2,552 miles from its Headwaters at Itasca to the Gulf of Mexico. Channelization has shortened this distance by over 200 miles!

• The river is 1,475 feet above sea level at Itasca, and is at sea level when it enters the ocean at the Gulf of Mexico.

• The average surface speed of the river is 1.2 miles per hour—about 1/3 as fast as people walk.

• This first known name for Lake Itasca was Omushkos, given by the Ojibwe Indians. This was later translated by the French into Las la Biche, meaning Elk Lake—probably the shape of Lake Itasca reminded them of the elk?

• At the end of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft’s historic journey, he named the source of the Mississippi River as Lake Itasca. With the raising of the flag on the lake’s small island, the Ojibwe name for the lake, Omushkos, and the French name for the lake, Lac la Biche, were discarded. Schoolcarft had taken the terms veritas and caput, Latin words for “truth” and “head”, suggested by his missionary companion, Reverend W.T. Boutwell, and linked adjoining syllables: Ver-itas ca-put

• The term Mississippi, originates from the Algonquin word Misiziibi—“a river spread over a large area.” The Ojibwe Indians referred to it as Gichiziibi or Ki’-chi-zi-bi—“Great River.” Romanticists translated this to mean “Father of Waters.” The word Missouri is an Algonquian term referring to “river of the big canoes,”, while Ohio is derived from the Iroquois word for “good river.”

The source of the Mississippi River

Plaque in the park:

SEARCH FOR THE MISSISSIPPI'S SOURCE

The romantic 19th century quest for the source of the Mississippi river brought many explorers—among them Zebulon Pike, Lewis Cass, and Giacomb Belframi—to northern Minnesota. The search ended when Ojibwe chief Ozawindib guided Henry Rowe Schoolcraft to Lake Itasca in 1832.

Sent by the United States government to help negotiate a treaty between the Dakota and Ojibwe, Schoolcraft used the opportunity to explore the Mississippi's headwaters area. The expedition, numbering 30, left Sault Ste. Marie in early June and travelled by way of the St. Louis River and Savanna Portage to Sandy Lake, then up the Mississippi to Cass Lake. From there Ozawindib guided them to Lake Bemidji and up the Schoolcraft River, and over a portage to the river's source.

Sorely tried by "voracious long-billed and dyspeptic musketoes" and portages knee-deep in mud, the little band caught their first glimpse of the lake on July 13. It was known to the Indians and traders as "Omushkos" or "Lac la Biche," both meaning Elk Lake, but Schoolcraft renamed it "Itasca" from a combination of the Latin words for "truth" and "head." veritas caput.

Although public interest focused on the long- sought source, the Schoolcraft expedition also collected valuable scientific information inspected fur posts, vaccinated 2,000 Ojibwe against small pox, and achieved an internal peace treaty.

ERECTED BY THE MINNESOTA HISTORICAL SOCIETY 1990

We also saw the ruins of the Theodore and Johanna Wegmann pioneer home, built in 1893—one building was used as a store and post office. The marker contained the following description:

Theodore and Johanna Wegmann

Built their pioneer home at this place in 1893, one building being used as a store and post office.

An act of the Minnesota Legislature in 1945 authorized acquisition of the homestead as an addition to Itasca State Park.

Dedicated in grateful memory of the services of Theodore Wegmann 1861-1941 and Johanna his wife 1865-1944

First sermon at the source of the Mississippi River

A year before Catherine and I had been talking about the Mississippi river. At that time I had been quite curios where was its source. Little had I known that a year later I would be visiting this spot! Yes, at Itasca State Park, the mighty Mississippi River begins its slow and steady stream toward the Gulf of Mexico!

Another plaque at the Mississippi Headwaters:

The first Colony of the United States.

Herein, under the Ordinance of 1787, began the westward expansion of the nation. The American Bill of Rights first nationally recognized. Human slavery prohibited. Primogeniture abolished. The great new principle of colonies becoming equal in rights with parent states was established.

Itasca Lake, source of the Mississippi River, discovered by Henry R. Schoolcraft in 1832.

The Treaty of Paris, 1783, provided that the United States’ northwest boundary should extend from the Northwest Angle of Lake of the Woods to the Mississippi River. Itasca was on this boundary.

This tablet is erected 1938 by the Northwest Territory Celebration Commission.

Park Rapids, MN

August 27, 2019, Tuesday. Park Rapids.

One of my bike's tires was flat; fortunately, there was a bike shop right in the park and in the morning we took the bike there. There was a hole in the tube which was patched up. Because we expected rain at any time, we only rode 7 km in the park. We also hiked to the Mississippi River Headwaters—the very spot this legendary rivers starts flowing to the Gulf of Mexico! After a few minutes it started raining, so we drove to the city of Park Rapids, which Catherine had visited numerous times with her children some 20 years ago. The main street was very wide—in fact so wide that two lanes in the middle of the street were turned into… parking! I was told that during the logging era, horse-drawn wagons loaded with logs had to be able to turn around on this street, so it had to be quite wide.

We visited Fuller’s Gun and Pawn and spent there about 30 minutes, talking to two gentlemen working there. I was fascinated by the various guns offered for sale, some quite old and expensive. One of the men had visited many interesting countries and regaled us with many stories. I just love visiting such places, where you can learn so much from local people.

Douglas Lodge

August 28, 2019, Wednesday. Biking around the Park. Douglas Lodge. Leaving Itasca State Park and arriving at the Hungry Man Campground

Still at Itasca State Park on campsite # 251. We biked around the park, doing a loop of 32.3 km. Some of the trails led on roads, but we hardly saw any cars. It was an awesome trail. Later we went to Douglas Lodge and met a lady 94 years old, who looked about 25 years younger.

DOUGLAS LODGE

Douglas Lodge is located in Itasca State Park, which holds the distinction of being Minnesota’s first state park. Established in 1891 to preserve the historic headwaters of the Mississippi River and some of the most extensive preserves of virgin Norway and white pine trees in the United States, the park also features a collection of log and stone buildings. The oldest of these is Douglas Lodge, built in 1905 with funds appropriated by the state legislature in 1903.

Attorney General Wallace B. Douglas, a pivotal figure in the battle to save the timber in Itasca State Park at the turn of the century, selected a site for the new lodge overlooking the east arm of Lake Itasca. Originally called Itasca Park Lodge or State House, the lodge now bears Douglas’s name.

The first floor includes a dining room and a lounge that is entered through a log archway with the year “1905” carved into a beam. Guest rooms are located on the second floor. A kitchen addition was added as early as 1914. Over the years, the addition deteriorated and was eventually rebuilt during the winter of 1984–1985. The reconstruction preserves the integrity of the building through the use of peeled pine logs, a stone-faced foundation, and the same window configurations.

After the construction of Douglas Lodge, additional log buildings were erected throughout the park over the next twenty years. Still one of Minnesota’s most iconic buildings, Douglas Lodge continues to serve visitors to Itasca State Park.

Source: https://sah-archipedia.org/buildings/MN-01-029-0077

We were supposed to leave the campsite by 4:00 pm, but only made it back to the campsite at 5:00 pm. There was a Filipino man in the process of setting up his tent on the adjacent campsite—it turned out that he actually got our campsite, but because it was not vacant, he set up at the other one. We apologized and quickly packed up so that he could move over to our campsite. We drove to the state forest, the Hungry Man Campground, but before went to a big liquor store to get beer—the owner said that he was captaining the tourist boat at the park. When we arrived at the campground, only one campsite was occupied and the one we really wanted, number 7, was still vacant [N47° 03.646' W95° 10.935']! It was really nice, with a view of the lake-and since the campground was located on a small peninsula, we could also admire awesome sunsets. There was a self-serve payment station, the payment envelope went into a special slot, and the other part of the receipt was attached to the campsite post. Interestingly, I do not remember ever seeing any occupied campsites without attached receipts, meaning that this semi-honour payment system did work. In the evening we sat around a wonderful campfire and were listening to howling wolves.

Hungry Man Campground, campsite #7

August 29, 2019, Thursday. Biking from Park Rapids to Dorset.

In the morning we talked to the couple occupying the other campsite in the park, they had a big "Clam" tent and they were just leaving the park. Then we drove to Park Rapids (and visited Dollar Tree & Walmart) and biked to Dorset and back (20.3 km). The town of Dorset had plenty of restaurants on both sides of the main street. Catherine had been in this town with her kids some 25 years ago, so this place appeared very familiar to her. On our way back to the campsite we went to the town of Two Inlets and visited a Grotto and a Catholic church, very impressive.

View from our campsite at Hungry Man Campground

August 30, 2019, Friday. Hiking on the Roberts Trail in Itasca State Park. Visiting Douglas Lodge (again!).

What a beautiful morning! There were 9 swans on the lake and I spent 20 minutes observing them. Several more campers arrived at the campground—we expected the campground to be full as it was the long weekend. We drove to Itasca State Park and hiked on the Roberts Trail, but turned back just past the log house (Old Timers Cabin) Beforehand, we grabbed a brochure containing plenty of detailed information about the trail and its artifacts, plants, trees and other features.

Once we were at the lake, the boat, full of tourists, was just departing, it was captained by the guy we had met at the liquor store a few days ago. Then we walked to Douglas Lodge and had a hamburger. Several hummingbirds were buzzing outside the windows. I was also able to take advantage of the free Internet and sent a few e-mails as well as wrote postcards and mailed them. I was reading William Shirer's "Berlin Diaries", an excellent book.

There were plenty of edible mushrooms everywhere

August 31, 2019, Saturday. Biking from Walker.

In the morning we spent an hour on the road in the forest gathering wood, yet I quickly spotted plenty of edible mushrooms which I collected, yet it was a very difficult task—there were thick bushes of poison ivy, which made it impossible to get to most of the mushrooms. Although poison ivy is very common in Ontario, it is much more prevalent in Minnesota. There were at least two different varieties of poison ivy in the campground and some even had clusters of white berries.

Later we drove to Walker and biked from there (altogether 30 km), stopping at a garage sale. One of the items for sale was an impressive buffalo hide-it turned out that the lady and her husband used to own a buffalo farm! We told them about our camping experiences in the past, when buffaloes were wandering just meters from our tent. She said that it could have been dangerous and they could have trampled our tent (and presumably whatever or whoever was inside), contrary to what park employees told us. We also saw a trailer park, full of campers of various sizes and shapes. Such trailer parks are quite popular in the USA; some allow people live year-round, others only offer seasonal accommodation. Once at the campsite, we spoke to the family at the adjacent campsite, they had a camper similar to the one Cathy had bought a few years ago. The grilled hamburgers were delicious! Again, we were ‘entertained’ by howling wolves.

September 1, 2019, Sunday. Morning mass at the “Grotto Church”. Biking from Nevis towards Dorset.

September 1, 2019… When I thought about this date, suddenly I realized that so many significant anniversaries fell today.

• 70 years ago, on September 1, 1939, Germany attacked Poland, thus starting the Second World.

• 50 years ago, on September 1, 1969, it was my first day of elementary school (number 221) in Warsaw. I still remember that day quite clearly, even though I was only 7 years old.

• 20 years ago, on September 1, 1999, I moved into my new house in Canada.

• In 1971 a Polish movie called “I Hate Mondays” (Nie lubię poniedziałku) was released. The movie’s events take place in the course of one day, Monday, September 15, 1969 (yes, 50 years ago). Several interwoven stories of inhabitants of Warsaw make a terrific satire on the Polish reality of that era—as well as show Warsaw’s most beautiful spots. Fifty years later, this movie is still joy to watch!

We got up at 9:00 am and went to the 10:00 am mass at the "Grotto Church". It was held outdoors, attended by many people and it was the last outdoor mass of the year.

History of the Grotto

Father Joseph Moylan, after a trip to our Lady of Lourdes in France, was inspired to build a replica in Two Inlets, Minnesota, where he was pastor of St Mary's Catholic Church.

In 1959, construction of the Grotto began and was made possible with the help of much prayer and the work of local parishioners of St Mary's and the community who offered their talents and financial assistance to see the project through. The extra care taken in the construction of the Grotto proved to be worth the effort, and the finished Grotto remains today as a memorial dedicated to the pastors who have served the St Mary's community over the years.

Source: http://www.stmarys-twoinlets-churchandgrotto.com/index2.html

The History of St Mary's Catholic Church, Two Inlets, MN

The first Catholic settlers of Two Inlets came from the Perham and St Cloud area from 1891-1894. Reverend Joseph Wurm from Aitkin visited once a month to administer the sacraments and say mass. An old barn was fixed up in Arago Township near Hay Creek for a meeting place until a church could be built. Father Jacob Engels was assigned pastor of Park Rapids in 1903 with Two Inlets as a mission.

In 1902, it was decided a church should built. Max and Barbara Eischens donated the land so a church could be built. The first mass was said at the new church in October of 1903.

On June 5, 1913, lightning struck the church and it burned to the ground. This was a severe loss, but the parishioners accepted the challenge and rebuilt a larger church, this church was completed in June of 1914.

Father Herman Decker was our first resident pastor, he came in the Fall of 1920.  A parish house was completed in the in March of 1921. He was also the pastor when the hall was built in 1924. Father Decker died in 1927 and is buried in St Mary's Cemetery.

The second church burned to the ground on Christmas Eve in 1933. The hall was renovated for church and work began for a new church. The church was specially designed with two entrances because of the Two Inlets on the lake for which our town was named. The church was ready for services in just one year. Father Rocca was the pastor of the church from April of 1933 to 1955.

Our church saw several resident pastors, until 1995. At that time, a priest from Park Rapids said 'mass at St Mary's, We were again blessed with a full time resident pastor in July, 2005.

We celebrated our 100th anniversary in 2007! We continue to enjoy mass in our beautiful church year round and in the grotto during the summer months 

Source: http://www.stmarys-twoinlets-churchandgrotto.com/churchhistrory.html

The beautiful life-size statues of Our Lady of Lourdes and Bernadette at the Grotto, made of bianco carrara marble, are the work of a renowned Italian sculptor.

Since the Way of the Cross is such and integral part of the devotional setting in France, the Stations of the Cross are also part of the Two Inlets Grotto.

In April, 1981, Fr Alto Butkowksi, then pastor at St Mary's, proposed expanding the Grotto to include a Rosary Shrine. Thus, the Rosary Shrine, with its large Rosary designed for Living Rosary devotions, was incorporated into the Grotto area and dedicated on July 10, 1981.

Source: http://www.stmarys-twoinlets-churchandgrotto.com/index2.html

Later we drove to the town of Nevis and biked towards Dorset, but turned back before reaching the town. In Nevis saw the biggest musky in the world. Then we drove back to Park Rapids, went to Walmart, where for a while I chatted to a very nice & personable employee. I bought excellent 70% wool socks. It was cloudy and we thought it would rain, so we drove back to the campsite.

Poison Ivy with white berries

September 2, 2019, Monday. Visiting Bemidji. Leaving the Hungry Man Campsite and arriving at Moose Lake Campground in the Bowstring State Forest.

Labour Day, the last long weekend of the summer! I guess I know why it is called "labor day"—everybody is doing hard labor: packing up and driving back home, often in terrible traffic!

When I was camping in Minnesota in September, 2022, I saw a cartoon in the “Star Tribune” showing EXACTLY what I just said above! I contacted the copyright office and I was told it was OK to republish this cartoon in my personal blog:

Dave Granlund, Courtesy of Cagle Cartoons

Well, we packed up and headed to the town of Bemidji. The first thing that we saw was an impressive statue of Paul Bunyan and his ox, Babe. The nearby information center offered more information on this legendary man. Catherine met one of her neighbors inside!

The oversized telephone used by Paul Bunyan!

Paul Bunyan

The legend of Paul Bunyan and Babe of the Blue Ox certainly still lives on, as many names of streets, the biking trail and statues attest to that. Although the details of his birth are not very clear, he was supposedly delivered by five Giant storks and it took an entire dairy herd to keep his milk bottle filled. On his first birthday his father presented him with a blue ox as a pet—who grew as fast as Paul and became a part of the legend of Paul Bunyan, who became the strongest and best known lumberjack. There are numerous tales about this superhuman figure; many of them explain the origins of some of the geographical features of the United States:

• Paul and Babe dragged the mighty water wagons that sprinkled logging roads and made them ice for gigantic loads of logs taken from the forests. Once the water wagon sprang a leak which created Lake Itasca and the overflow trickled down to New Orleans to form the Mississippi River. 

 • Everywhere the giant ox stepped, his tracks filled with water and became the Ten Thousand Lakes of Minnesota. 

 • One day Paul started to sneeze. Before he was able to stop, he had cleared so much land that the Red River Valley was created. 

 • Once Paul and his men started the logs on a new river. Soon they realized that they were on the Round River-that was why they were seeing the same places over and over again. Paul shoveled out the center of the river and made it into a big lake which is now known as Round Lake.

However, I have to admit that for the first time I had heard about Paul Bunyan from an episode of "The Simpsons", in which the Simpson family sneaks onto a freight train and meets a hobo, who offers to entertain them with some tall tales—and one of them is a retelling the Paul Bunyan legend, with Homer as the main character. According to this version of the legend, Paul Bunyan, aka Homer, and his Babe, are responsible for creating a lot of American landmarks: the Great Smokey Mountains, Death Valley, and Big Holes with Beer National Park. And at the end Paul catches a meteor, which is heading towards Springfield, throws it across the country and thus starts the Great Chicago Fire!

And one more thing: for those who do not believe in the existence of Paul Bunyan: the Visitors Information Center in Bemidji, MN, has a lot of personal effects of Paul Bunyan (a comb, button, ax and telephone), so perhaps he did exist, after all? There is even an over-sized guest book.

We had a lunch in Bemidji State Park—and suddenly I saw a beautiful Pileated Woodpecker! I just love these birds, they are so pretty, yet relatively rare and whereas I had seen them in the past, they were usually gone before I had the time to reach for my camera. This particular Woodpecker must have been used to people, as it hung around for quite a long time, completely ignoring me and everyone else.

Bowstring State Forest, Moose lake Campground, campsite number 9

After lunch we took showers (what a blessing!) and drove on scenic county roads to Bowstring State Forest. Our destination, Moose Lake Campground, comprised of 11 campsites and only one was occupied by a camper. We picked campsite number 9 [N47° 23.657' W93° 40.329'], paid $14, set up the tent and a primitive shelter (aka tarp) just before it started to rain. The tarp protected us from the rain and we made a wild mushroom soup, which was very tasty. It was raining the whole night.

“No fee, no service” We can camp for free!

September 3, 2019, Tuesday. At Moose Lake Campground in Bowstring State Forest. Driving to Grand Rapids. Library. Blandin Paper Company.

Although it was lighting, thundering and pouring rain at night, it stopped in the morning. As we were having coffee, a park employee came to remove the payments from the self-serve payment box. We decided to spend another night here and as I went to deposit an envelope with the payment, I was pleasantly surprised by the new notice attached to the information board—"No fees, no service"-in other words, as of now camping here was free, yet no services were provided (garbage collection, washrooms).

We drove to Grand Rapids and in Dollar Tree I met a 98 year old World War Two veteran, who still drove his car! He was in France during the war, but because of his severe hearing impairment, we were unable to conduct any conversation. Since it was raining, we went to the local library in Grand Rapids, it had a separate room with books for sale—and they were amazing! Many of them I had read or been very familiar with, but I still managed to pick about 7 excellent books and a few interesting magazines. For a while we spoke to a gentleman inside the library-he became very curious about my accent.

    "Try to guess", I said. 

     "Norwegian? Swedish? Danish? German? Australian?”, he kept guessing, but eventually after listing over 20 languages, I had to tell him.

We asked him about "Blandin Foundation" building next door-he said that it was founded Charles K. Blandin established the Blandin Foundation in 1941 to aid and promote Grand Rapids and the surrounding area. In designing the Foundation, Blandin emphasized flexibility to ensure it could adapt to changing times with an underlying philosophy that its work should lead to the “betterment of mankind.”

Since the sale of the Blandin Paper Company in 1977, the financial resources of the Foundation have expanded dramatically, as has its area of service. Once linked, the two are now distinctly separate organizations; the Foundation is private and independent of the paper mill, which is currently owned by UPM, based in Finland. When we went back to the campsite, we were the only campers there.

September 4, 2019, Wednesday. Bike riding (Bovey, Taconite, Marble)

The weather forecast called for rain the next day, so we packed up and drove to Coleraine and parked near the Mesabi Bike Trail and started riding. There were two historical churches. We rode to Bovey, Taconite and Marble. Very nice trail-floating bridge, sometimes we rode along railway tracks, some probably recently abandoned. Plenty of ore tailing, some very old and already almost all grown-up with trees. Plenty of choice mushrooms-huge! Town of Marble-rather depressing. We drove back to Coleraine, drove on highway 65 and stopped at a liquor store in Nashwauk and spoke to the salesperson.

Bear Lake Campground, campsite number 7

Then headed to George Washington State Forest and after some searching found the right road leading to Bear Lake Campground (one of the roads was very rough, certainly not for our vehicle). After several miles we arrived at the campground, comprising of some 25 campsites—and ALL of them were vacant! We picked campsite number 7 [N47° 40.650' W93° 15.961'], just on the lake. There were some old ruins on our campsite. I managed to set up the tent just before it got dark. The fire wood was free, so we enjoyed a very nice fire. There were some cottages on the lake, but we only spotted one boat on the lake that evening. I cleaned the mushrooms and placed them on the grill to dry, as it was the only way to preserve them. The sky was cloudless, so we could admire the Milky Way. Later a storm passed over our area, with lighting and thunders and very heavy rain, but our tent was not affected and we slept so soundly that hardly noticed it.

Hibbing, MN. Childhood Home of Bob Dylan from 1948 to 1959

September 5, 2019, Thursday. Hibbing. Bob Dylan’s home.

It stopped raining in the morning and the strong winds quickly dried everything. We drove to Hibbing and located the house where Bob Dylan used to live. Apparently the house had just been sold. There was a small plaque attached to its front, stating, “Childhood Home of Bob Dylan from 1948 to 1959”. There was a balcony on the side of the home. Bob Dylan used to sit on the balcony, playing the guitar. One resident of this town called Hibbing 'a bum town'. It was drizzling and as we were driving to find shelter, two deer along the road. We literally drove into the picnic shelter and had supper, mushrooms and sandwiches.

Yes, we literally drove into the picnic shelter!

September 6, 2019, Friday. Exploring various towns.

A sunny day! We drove to Virginia, Bewabic and Gilbert, saw Voyageur Retreat (Giants' Ridge)-new development, offering lots for sale. Catherine went for a bike ride while I was reading a paper-statistics in Minnesota on crime. Even though it was Friday, still we were the only campers on the whole campground, enjoying our total privacy.

Hibbing, MN

In the morning we were awaken by birds, mainly crows and Canadian geese. Friendly chipmunks/squirrels sometimes ran under our tent's vestibules. We could hear very vocal owls and woodpeckers, but did not spot other bigger animals.

September 7, 2019, Saturday. Hibbing—Greyhound Museum, Open Iron Mine.

Cloudy, cool. We drove to Hibbing to the Greyhound Museum, David, a volunteer, gave us a personal tour, we learned about its history and saw many older and unique buses. It really hit home because Catherine and I both had taken Greyhound bus from Minneapolis to Toronto, and in Catherine's case, back to Minneapolis, each on a separate occasion.

Then we went to the open pit iron mine. It was overwhelmingly huge, we could observe from viewing platforms gigantic heavy equipment still in operation. There were pieces of huge mining equipment on an outdoor display, some as big as a two-story home. In the trailer manned by volunteers we saw various artifacts and souvenirs as well as spoke to knowledgeable staff.

We also popped into a Walmart store where I spotted two women, most likely of Somali ancestry, and one of them appeared a bit familiar, but I quickly forgot about her. After ten of so minutes I met Catherine (Walmart stores are so huge that we often arrange a time and place to meet each other, as we usually shop in different sections) and she said that she had just seen Ilhan Abdullahi Omar, the U.S. representative (Congresswoman) for Minnesota's 5th congressional district. Nevertheless, I was not sure if it was indeed she.

We returned to the campsite, packed up and headed south to Milac Lake, where we checked out the Airbnb (Air Bed and Breakfast) that Catherine had planned on renting for the week with her daughter and granddaughter, but due to rainy forecast, had canceled.

We visited Father Hennepin State Park and were not impressed. Then we drove to nearby Cathio State Park which we liked. We ended up taking back country roads, eventually passing by St. Boni, where Catherine's son and daughter-in-law lived.

September 16-29, 2019. Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minnesota. Dr Thomas McDonald. Camping in The Oxbow Park & Zollman Zoo and in Vinegar Ridge. Visiting Rushford and Wabasha. Biking on the Root River Trail. Visiting the former studio and home of Prince. Driving back to Canada: camping at Richardson Lake Campground, AuTrain Lake Campground and in Chutes Provincial Park.

Camping in The Oxbow Park & Zollman Zoo

After a few days of rest and renewal in Victoria, MN, we drove to Byron, MN, just outside Rochester. Catherine had her first medicare wellness appointment at the Mayo Clinic the next day—and probably she was the only patient of the Mayo Clinic to stay overnight on a campsite, in a tent! The Oxbow Park & Zollman Zoo consisted of a number of campsites along a rather small river; we picked campsite number 10 [N44° 05.167' W92° 39.103']. Unfortunately, many campsites were unusable due to a very sudden flooding in the spring. The hosts showed us flood photos and described the event. Apparently the water started raising very quickly and they hardly had the time to move their camper to a higher ground. Everything was under a few feet of water, including the comfort station. Supposedly it was a “once every 100 years event”—however, such allegedly rare events were happening more often, like every 5 or 10 years. Our campsite was nice, with a big tree, close to the river and nobody else was around. The campground was run by the City of Byron, which also had nearby nature ZOO, which we visited. I saw a Timber Rattlesnake (it used to live in Ontario, yet for about 70 years had been presumed to be extirpated) as well as a Horned Owl. For some reasons somebody placed horns in its cage—it looked as if it had shed its horns!

The next day we got up very early and headed off by 7:00 am to the Mayo Clinic. The impressive Gonda Building was named after the Leslie & Susan Gonda. Leslie Gonda, born László Goldschmied (August 20, 1919 – March 16, 2018) was a Hungarian-born American businessman, philanthropist, and Holocaust survivor. He was the co-founder (with his son Louis Gonda) of International Lease Finance Corporation. He was married to Susan Gonda, also a Holocaust survivor, until her death in 2009.

We parked across the road, in the Gonda ramp. Catherine was shocked that we had to drive up 10 levels before we found the spot. That encouraged her to look into the valet parking, which, for the additional $7.00, was the best deal in town. We were impressed how organized, efficient and even beautiful the sprawling Mayo Clinic was. While Catherine was having various tests done over the next two days, I spent the whole time exploring the Mayo Clinic, visiting the museum and familiarizing myself with its amazing history. I even got a free medical advice: while on the elevator, I struck up a conversation with a doctor, who asked me if I was a patient. I told him I was just sightseeing.

    “I thought so, because you seem to be in perfect health!”

Catherine was fairly happy with the clinic, but they screwed-up and missed a few tests (did an HIV test instead of A1C test and no DEXA scan was done). Later she got a bill for over $300 which patient-relations eventually canceled after she explained the situation.

Mayo Clinic—a Short History

Mayo Clinic originated with the medical practice of William Worrall Mayo, M.D., (1819–1911). Both of W. W. Mayo's sons, William James Mayo (1861–1939) and Charles Horace Mayo (1865–1939), who became known as Dr. Will and Dr. Charlie, grew up in Rochester and attended medical school. William graduated in 1883 and joined his father's practice, with Charles joining in 1888. On August 21, 1883, a tornado struck Rochester, causing at least 37 deaths and over 200 injuries. One-third of the town was destroyed, but the Mayo family escaped serious harm. Relief efforts began immediately in a variety of makeshift facilities. Mayo was placed in charge of organizing medical care for the wounded survivors. Needing nurses, he reached out to Mother Alfred Moes, the founder of the Sisters of Saint Francis of Rochester, Minnesota (a teaching order).

After the crisis subsided, Mother Alfred approached W. W. Mayo with a proposal: The Sisters of St. Francis would raise funds to build a hospital in Rochester if he and his sons provided medical and surgical care. The agreement was made over a handshake.  On September 30, 1889, Saint Mary's Hospital was opened by the Sisters with the three Mayo physicians on staff. 

I was also impressed by the extensive art collection, which was on display across in the Gonda Building—it was like a museum of art! Baskets from Luzon Cordillera Central Mountain Range, Philippines, located on the 6th floor of the Gonda Building, Mayo Clinic campus.

According to an article “Art at Mayo Clinic” (https://www.mayoclinicproceedings.org/article/S0025-6196(21)00260-3/pdf), “baskets is a collection of “simple rattan, bamboo, and wood baskets” that reflect the influences of the mountain range in many ways. Mountain travel and living can be challenging. These handmade tools provided aid in navigating the irregularity of the terrain and fostering subsistence in the pre-automation era. Their beauty and elegance are rooted in the ergonomic designs and commonplace functionality of daily living.” Indeed, sometimes something so simple and primitive is more beautiful than any elaborate and sophisticated piece of art! Perhaps that is why I enjoy so much Inuit soapstone sculptures/carvings: they are so raw and primitive, yet their simplicity makes them absolutely stunning!

I spent a lot of time in the Heritage Hall, in a small museum. I also went to the adjoining Plummer Building. Opened in 1928, it was the tallest building in Rochester until 2001 when the nearby Gonda Building was completed. It is topped by a distinctive terra-cotta trimmed tower which contains a 56-bell carillon. The carillon is played daily, and its music can be heard throughout downtown. Its 4,000-pound (1,800 kg) ornamental bronze doors nearly always stand open, symbolizing eternal willingness to accept those in medical need. They have been closed only to commemorate notable events in Mayo or national history.

There is an interesting story associated with the Plummer Building doors which I read in the Mayo Clinic museum. For generations of patients and staff, Joseph Fritsch was “Joe Clinic”. From 1929 to 1954 he served with flourish as doorman of the Plummer Building when the great bronze doors were the main entrance to Mayo Clinic.

Joe’s humor, courtesy and the extraordinary ability to remember names made him an ideal ambassador. Once, after watching him trade quips with some newly arrived patients, Dr. Will Mayo made his own joke: 

    “Joe, if I could ever find out what you do, I’d give you a raise.” 

Joe passed away in 1967.

Inside the Mayo Clinic Historical Suite displays many photographs and artifacts, including the offices that Dr. William J. (Will) Mayo and Dr. Charles H. (Charlie) Mayo used from 1928 until their deaths in 1939. Dr. Will’s office is arranged as it was when he used it. Dr. Charlie’s office was used by his son, Dr. Charles W. (Chuck) Mayo from 1939 until his retirement in 1963.

Another prominent feature of the Historical Suite is the Board of Governors Room, where the senior leaders of Mayo Clinic met from 1928 to 1954. The ornately decorated room is filled with diplomas, certificates and awards presented to the Mayo brothers.

In a small park near the Gonda Building, there is a bronze sculpture of the Mayo Brothers [William James Mayo (June 29, 1861 – July 28, 1939) and Charles Horace Mayo (July 19, 1865 – May 26, 1939)] called “My Brother and I” by Tuck Langland. Why such a name? The brothers, when announcing a discovery or accepting an award, often used the phrase, "My brother and I” to stress that they worked as a team and were equal partners.

Across the park stand larger-than-life bronze renderings of William Worrall Mayo (by Leonard Crunelle) and Mother M. Alfred Moes (by Mike Major). The size difference between the two sets of sculptures gives the appearance of dedicated guardians watching over and providing special care for My Bother and I from a distance.

There is an interesting story about William James Mayo, which has even found its way into “Wikipedia” (although I had found it somewhere else):

As a child, William and his brother Charles frequently accompanied their father (William Worrall Mayo) as he went about his business as a pioneer physician. They began by helping out with very menial tasks, and were gradually given more responsibility. Eventually, the boys were administering anesthesia and tying off blood vessels.

One night at the age of 16, Will accompanied his father to an abandoned hotel where one of the elder Mayo's patients worked as the caretaker. The patient had just died and Mayo was going to perform an autopsy. Will stood by and watched the procedure and after about an hour, it was time to go to another patient's home. Mayo asked his son to stay behind and clean up. "Sew up the incisions and then tuck the sheet around the corpse. When you finish, go right home." Will nervously began to stitch up the incisions on the body and recounted the incident many years later saying, "I'm about as proud of the fact that I walked out of there, instead of ran, as of anything else I ever made myself do".

Happy (and healthy) Catherine in the Mayo Clinic

I really enjoyed exploring the world-famous clinic and its environs! Besides, the good news was that Catherine was declared physically (and mentally!) healthy.

Here I would like to mention a certain event connected to the Mayo Clinic, which eventually caused me to discover a very poignant and unforgettable story.

While walking around the Mayo Clinic on September 17, 2019, I saw the Co-Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church, which I entered. A funeral mass was being celebrated at that time, so I only peeked inside the Cathedral—there were plenty of people and apparently the son of the deceased individual was speaking about him. I stayed in the vestibule and read information brochures about the deceased. His name was Thomas McDonald, born on May 30, 1940, in Ballynahinch, County Down, Northern Ireland, and he used to be Chair of the Department of Otorhinolaryngology-Head and Neck Surgery at Mayo Clinic. He passed away on September 10, 2019, just 3 years after his retirement.

Later I did some online research and found out that he served in the U.S. Army Medical Corps from 1965 to 1968, where he attained the rank of Captain. He was deployed as a combat surgeon at the 12th Evac Hospital in Cu Chi, Vietnam during the Vietnam War from 1966 to 1967 and he was decorated for bravery. In addition, he and Michael Ransom wrote a book, “Far from Ballynahinch”.

On Mr. Ransom’s web-page I found some excerpts from Dr. McDonald’s memoir (https://www.mransomwriter.com/ransom-notes/2018/5/12/a-final-blessing) about the time he served in Vietnam. They were so poignant that I wanted to include some passages from the book in my blog. I contacted Mr. Michael Ransom, asking for permission; he wrote back, saying, “The McDonald family grants the permission you requested”.

“In November 1966, I was relocated from the Third Field Hospital to the newly built 12th Evac Hospital on the 25th Infantry Division’s base camp in Cu Chi, Vietnam.

(…)

There was about a twenty-yard run from the first building, the triage building, to the two helicopter landing pads. (…) The rest of the units of the 200-bed hospital were hospital post-op units and medical units. (...) By Thanksgiving of 1966, this hospital (essentially in tents) began to function, and by 1967 it was handling a thousand cases a month.

It is impossible to forget an attack, especially the first one. It was after sundown on March 17th, getting cooler, and most of the doctors and some of the nurses were reclining on lawn chairs, watching a bizarre movie on an outdoor screen. (...) We heard the “harrumph” sound. Many in our group—including me—hadn’t heard the sound of an incoming mortar round and were blissfully unaware of its significance. Some of the soldiers with more experience yelled, “Incoming!” and pulled or cajoled the unbelieving others into the nearby bunkers. The attack was over in five to ten minutes, signaled by whistle blowing and Huey gunship helicopters whirling overhead. Flares fired down from the gunships on supposed enemy positions around the perimeter of the camp and hospital itself.

The 25th Infantry Division base, including our hospital, had more than twenty-five thousand people. Following this initial attack, we were attacked about three times each week. As you might expect, the firing of mortars and rockets into an area with that many people would cause casualties; we learned that after an all-clear sounded, we would rush into our hooches, throw our pistols under the beds with our helmets, don our scrub suits, and head for the triage area some twenty yards away to receive the first of many casualties. We would work through the night and into the next day. Soldiers would carry their wounded comrades in their arms to the triage area and drive them to us in Jeeps, or if they were further away, fly them in by helicopter.

Of the many soldiers who died in the hospitals during my surgical duties in Vietnam, one, a nineteen-year-old GI, won’t leave my memory. We were in the midst of a typically busy night, handling what we called a mass cal (for mass casualty). Nearly forty seriously injured young GIs were brought in during the space of fifteen to twenty minutes. Because the Medivac helicopters (unarmed Red Cross dustoff helicopters) that usually brought in the wounded had either been shot down or were en route to or from the firefight area, gunship Huey helicopters began to arrive with desperately injured and wounded soldiers. The gunship pilots were not familiar with the landing pad opposite our triage unit, so their landings involved a little bump, a little liftoff, and, with tremendous skill and courage, a safe settling down of their crafts. They left the rotors running as fast as they could, so they could be instantly ready for takeoff as soon as the corpsmen, doctors, and nurses hurried off the wounded and returned with the empty stretchers. A thumbs-up sign was given to the door gunner, and the Huey roared away to the fight zone. The deafening helicopter noise, the fast-moving personnel, and the whirring blades and swirling dust—the presence of war—all combined to create a rush of excitement and a heightened awareness of life and death that I have felt neither before nor since.

The wounded and dying were hurried into the triage area and placed on the usual stretcher and two supports. My team was assigned to a young GI, no more than nineteen years old. We looked in horror as we saw that he had no upper or lower limbs, and that most of his genitalia had been blown off. He obviously had encountered a land mine, and the frail and yet magnificent young body lay there covered with a mixture of stale, dried blood and the reddish dust so particular to the area. The odor of the dust mixed with dried blood is something peculiar to that region, to that war, to those casualties. It’s an odor I associate with death and despair.

The main problem was, of course, that with such extensive injuries, the GI had lost massive amounts of blood, possibly nearly all of his blood. The second problem was that even though there were two IV containers and needles ready above his body, there were no veins in which to place the needles. The young man shouted over and over in a pleading scream, “Mother! Mother, help me!” (Many dying and wounded GIs called out for their mothers.) A nurse and I pressed on his neck while two other nurses struggled to keep his bare chest and torso from springing up into the air. He had such energy based on so little body mass. I don’t know where he found the strength to push our restraining people well off the table, and then he collapsed back, still shouting for his mother. The nurse and I repeatedly pushed on his neck, trying to get his internal jugular vein or any vein to appear, but to no avail. He had no blood, no pressure, and he quickly went from a screaming, struggling, desperately injured young man to a quiet young man who was lying still. And then he died.

Up to this moment, I had not displayed emotion or wept over a casualty, but this time I was moved, and tears welled up in my eyes. It was late at night, and as I looked at this lifeless corpse who seconds ago had been screaming for his mother, it hit me that this GI’s parents had gone to bed that evening thinking that their son was alive; they had no reason to believe otherwise. I could picture them sleeping in some warm, safe farmhouse in some faraway state. Now I stood by their son’s side, knowing the terrible news they would soon receive.

It’s a bit ironic, and perhaps embarrassing, to recall that because of my childhood upbringing in Ireland, in which great emphasis was placed on spirituality and religion, I felt a need to ask God’s forgiveness when someone’s death was imminent or after someone died to express some sort of sorrow for their past sins. Students were encouraged in the Irish junior schools and later on in the boarding secondary schools that it is perfectly appropriate to silently or quietly say a word of sorrow, otherwise known as an abbreviated act of contrition, into the ear of a just-deceased person, regardless of whether or not they were Christian and regardless of their religious denomination.

I had done this whispering repeatedly when U.S. soldiers succumbed to wounds, civilians had been caught in horrible crossfire, or enemy soldiers, be they Viet Cong or North Vietnamese, died. When no one was watching, I would put my lips down to the ear and whisper a quick, “Oh, God please forgive their sins, Amen.” This instance was no different, so I offered this final, quick blessing to the dead GI, and then my team and I moved on to the next wounded soldier. Though we left him, his image has never left me.”

Vinegar Ridge campsite number 5

We packed up in the morning, before driving to the Mayo Clinic. So once Catherine left the clinic, we drove and hit the HyVee store to stock up on our supplies. The staff was very friendly and the store was very upper-end.

We drove to a county forest campground at Vinegar Ridge and found a nice site #5 [N43° 47.043' W91° 40.423'] overlooking a massive rock. We were the only campers that night. After setting up our camp, we sat around the fire and could suddenly hear faint cries for help from the direction of the rugged ridge. We became so concerned that we called the Sheriff non-emergency line (posted on the information board in the campground). In no time the Sheriff arrived and talked to us. Suddenly we were descended upon by all kinds of emergency vehicles. We were told that not only did a couple of officers hear the cries, but there was an unoccupied car parked near the ridge. By that time, it was about 10:00 pm and pitch dark. After a search that did not find anyone, a drone with a heat-seeking sensor was brought in to search the area. Since nothing was discovered, and it was midnight, the search mission was discontinued and all the vehicles—and there were about 10 of them, from 2 counties—left the scene.

The next next day we drove to Rushford and biked on the Root River Trail. Apparently in 2007 about 20 inches of rain fell in just one day. Rushford was flooded and the flooding caused $67 million in damage.

Vinegar Ridge

The next night we slept through a very heavy rainfall—in fact, my empty cup, which I had left on the table in the evening, became almost full of rainwater in the morning! Thanks God, we did not notice the rain while it was on because the Eureka El Capitan 3 tent turned out to be 100% water-proof! And our campsite was not flooded, either.

Rushford, MN

As the weekend was approaching, we expected more campers to arrive, yet we did not expect to be inundated by caravans of Hmong at 2:00 am. Actually, Catherine was so scared that, after unsuccessfully trying to wake me up, she grabbed the bear spray and crept out of the tent to investigate what was going on. The weekend turned out to be a lively one, with the remaining 6 campsites flooded by huge extended families of Hmong were into squirrel hunting and playing loud ethnic music—which, to be fair, I enjoyed. I approached some of them and we talked about the Vietnam war and the communist system, which had caused so much suffering on the Hmong and forced them to leave for many other countries. Once I told them that I was from Poland and left because of the same system, they immediately became friendlier towards me.

In the evening I started reading a newly purchased book, “Gang of One. Memoirs of a Red Guard” by Fan Shen. Fascinating—I wrote more about this book at the end of the blog.

Lanesboro, MN

We went to the town of Huston which had a nice interpretive center and a grocery store. Another day we drove to Lanesboro and biked the Root River Trail for several hours. The weather was cool and rainy and we decided the head home, checking out various towns and campgrounds/state park along the way. We were impressed with the town of Wabasha where a famous movie, "Grumpy Old Men", took place. There was the impressive Eagle Center right beside the river; lo and behold, there were also several eagles flying overhead! The town was clothed in full fall fall décor.

Wabasha, MN

We eventually arrived at Catherine's house in Victoria late evening and did a couple of short biking trips close to her home. Just several kilometers from her residence, in Chanhassen, was Prince's extraordinary estate and production complex. We rode through an underpass; its walls had plenty of graffiti dedicated to the singer, as well as the fence was decorated with numerous memorabilia left by his fans.

Several days later, on September 26, 2019, I departed, spending the first night in Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest (north of Antigo, where I drove to have something to eat), at Richardson Lake Campground (campsite #5), which had very few occupants.

Then I drove on road number 8 [N45° 26.521' W88° 42.954'] and stopped in the community of Armstrong Creek, where I spotted a lot of roads bearing Polish names. There was a Polish Catholic Church as well as a cemetery, where about 80% of headstones bore Polish names (I re-visited that place again in 2022 and spent more time there).

View from the observation platform in AuTrain Lake

The second nigh (September 27/28, 2019) I camped at AuTrain Lake Campground, on campsite #5 [N46° 23.558' W86° 50.103']—Catherine and I had camped there while driving to Ontario in 2017. It was about to shut down for the season and there were very few people. Even the host’s campsite was vacant.

My favorite campsite #98 in Chutes Provincial Park in Ontario

Crossing the border was hassle-free and my last night, September 28/29, 2019, was spent in Chutes Provincial Park, on campsite #98 [N46° 13.256' W82° 04.384'], our favourite, where Catherine and I had camped several years before. On my way home I stopped in Six Mile Lake Provincial Park, drove around a number of very familiar campsites and after a while headed to Mississauga, thus ending my 6 week long trip.

Hiking trail in Chutes Provincial Park

Because we were planning to meet again in May, 2020 in Indiana Dunes National Park, I left my bicycle at Catherine’s home, as I would not be using it until May anyway. Unfortunately, several months later COVID-19 happened… And although it was impossible to buy any bikes in stores in 2021, my bike was parked in Catherine’s garage and I only managed to bring it back to Canada in September, 2022.

The books that I read during my trip

I love books and whenever I travel, I always bring several volumes with me. Furthermore, I visit many thrift shops (or libraries) which usually have rather sizable used-books sections, where most of the time I find quite fascinating publications. Of course, I also try to spend a few hours every day reading books. I find it absolutely wonderful to relax near a lake or a river, at a secluded & forested campsite, engrossed in a good book. Or better yet, sit around the campfire and become absorbed by a stimulating tale. This trip was not exception and I managed to read a number of books. I found two of them to be quite special—both were autobiographies of men living in communist countries who directly experienced the effects of this cruel system—and I would like to write more about them.

Since I am quite interested in the Soviet Union and the communist system, just before my trip I bought “Deep in the Russian Night”, an autobiography of Aaron Chazan (1912-2008). The author, an orthodox Jew, was born in Russia, survived the Second World War and subsequently settled in Moscow. Despite the persecution of the Soviet regime and a relentless campaign of legal and economic pressure against the Jews, he was able to endure and withstand everything and he and his family persevered in living a fully observant life, holding clandestine prayers in their home, hosting circumcisions and religious weddings as well as baking matzos for Passover. Moreover, he (and his children) kept Sabbath—in the Soviet Union, where Saturdays were regular working days and the government was actively attacking any religious observances, especially Jewish. And he and his family always kept kosher! Of course, he regularly faced numerous problems with his employers, school authorities and other Soviet officials who tried various methods to preclude him from following the tenets of his religion. Finally, in the late 1960s was allowed to leave for Israel. After reading this book, I genuinely admired and was impressed by his strong determination and unwavering belief in God and His laws. And then I thought about Catholics, who live in free countries, enjoy total and complete religious freedom and where nothing stands in their way to observe their religious practices (which, I must add, are nothing in comparison with those followed by Orthodox Jews). Yet so many of them so often find hundreds of trivial excuses and self-justifications NOT to follow even the minimum requirements. That is why I think that this book should be given to Catholics, Christians and disciples of other 1 religions so that they can could realize what it TRULY means to adhere to and follow one’s religious beliefs!

The second book, “Gang of One. Memoirs of a Red Guard” by Fan Shen, I found (again!) in a thrift shop near Rochester, MN. According to the jacket copy appearing on the flap of the book, “In 1966 twelve-year old Fan Shen, a newly minted Red Guard, plunged happily into China's Cultural Revolution. Disillusion soon followed, then turned to disgust and fear when Shen discovered that his compatriots had tortured and murdered a doctor whose house he’d helped raid and whose beautiful daughter he secretly adored. A story of coming of age in the midst of monumental historical upheaval, Shen’s “Gang of One” is more than a memoir of one young man’s harrowing experience during a time of terror. It is also, in spite of circumstances of remarkable grimness and injustice, an unlikely picaresque tale of adventure full of courage, cunning, wit, tenacity, resourcefulness, and sheer luck —the story of how Shen managed to scheme his way through a hugely oppressive system and emerge triumphant. Gang of One recounts how Shen escaped, again and again, from his appointed fate, as when he somehow found himself a doctor at sixteen and even, miraculously, saved a few lives. In such volatile times, however, good luck could quickly turn to a transfer to the East Wind Aircraft Factory got him out of the countryside and into another terrible trap, where many people were driven to suicide; his secret self-education took him from the factory to college, where friendship with an American teacher earned him the wrath of the secret police.” This book shows the unspeakable terrors of the Cultural Revolution and a harrowing life in general in Communist China with its idiotic, absurd, and ludicrous ideas—and one man’s determination to create his own fate. 

I just want to describe one story: at sixteen, he was nominated to be the village “barefoot doctor.” The barefoot doctor program was the latest political movement. The Great Leader (i.e., Mao) had decreed that each village should have a barefoot doctor, who would work barefoot like the rest of the peasants during the day and treat patients in the evening or during breaks in the field. The training lasted three (3!) months— and in the first month the students did not learn anything related to medicine, only studying the Great Leader’s works on serving the people. The Party secretary of the Commune taught them most of the classes.

“You must remember Chairman Mao’s teaching”, he said at the opening class. “We would rather have a doctor with a Red heart and little skill than a doctor with a White heart and better medical skills. A Red heart will take care of everything else. You must be revolutionaries first, doctors second. You must never forget this.” 

After such a “medical school”, he returned to the village when he had acquired the status of a demigod and the villagers’ trust in him was complete and profound. Unbelievably, he treated people, carried surgeries, including an amputation, removed a wounded eye and performed other medical procedures!

Amazingly, despite his inferior high school education, he managed to pass the University entrance exam, went to university, studied English and eventually left China for the United States, becoming a professor of English (!!!) at Rochester Community and Technical College!

I regret that I was unable to personally meet professor Shen while in Rochester, as I was absolutely impressed by his perseverance and determination in situations which seemed to be almost hopeless.

Blog in Polish/w języku polskim

More photos from this trip