With blue skies and perfect temperatures we headed north to the shores of Lake Superior. We set out on our bikes on the Gitchi-Gami State Trail which parallels U.S. Highway 61 and has some of the most beautiful scenery in the state of Minnesota. Although the bike trail will eventually run the full length of the North Shore, for now it is complete in sections. We rode north from Gooseberry Falls State Park, through Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, to the town of Beaver Bay a distance of about 14 miles. The trail is anything but flat, with steep inclines because of the rock cliffs that line the shoreline of the lake. Today the water was the most beautiful shade of blue, reflecting the clear and sunny skies above. After an ice cream stop the return trip took us into a headwind, but the scenery and the downhill runs made the effort all worthwhile. This section of Lake Superior is the closest I can come in the Midwest to seeing an “ocean” – the expanse is so large that there is no shoreline to be seen on the other side. Just beautiful blue waters on a picture-perfect day all the way to the horizon.
bicycling
Seeing the familiar with fresh eyes
As I set out on my bicycle early this morning the temperature was already in the 70’s and the air was thick and humid. I was thinking about our recent 500-mile ride across Kansas and how this morning’s 20-mile ride wasn’t much in comparison. All of the scenery across Kansas was new to me – the beauty of the plains and the rolling hills have left a mark on me, and yet today’s ride was going to be over city streets that I’ve ridden so many times before. I set a goal to pay attention to the scenery and surroundings of today’s ride to see what I might find and experience. As I headed east into the sun I knew there was a slight curve ahead where the cemetery trees would be shading the road, but I was amazed at the rays of sunlight piercing through the leaves amidst the haze of the humidity. I continued on knowing that I’d be passing many lakes I’ve ridden by countless times. I passed this scene, then turned around and went back to photograph. In the quiet of the early morning two fishermen had a glass-like lake all to themselves — it reminded me of an old tourist postcard for the lakes of Minnesota. I thought about sitting in the chair and watching them, but I suspected there might be more scenes waiting for me ahead. I rode to a small prairie restoration area and was greeted by blooming butterfly milkweed and gray-headed coneflowers. I passed a lake that we have fished on many times, yet today there wasn’t a boat in sight. Instead there was flotilla of geese gliding quietly across the lake. A mile further down the road and I spotted a shy doe grazing on the far side of a pond — close enough to the woods to be able to run inside if she felt threatened. Feeling strong as I neared home I looked down and saw I was riding at 20 mph in a high cadence on a city street, much like the riding I’d enjoyed in the western flats of Kansas. All the experiences of my ride today were ones that I could have easily passed by and not noticed, but the intention of seeing with fresh eyes had brought me an appreciation for what was here for me today, in this place, now.
On the cusps of night and day
After record-breaking heat this past week we finally cooled down a bit yesterday. And with a Saturday evening with nothing to do we loaded the canoe on the car, grabbed our fishing rods, and headed out for some lake-time. As we put in to the water the winds died down, and as sunset approached we knew we were in for a treat. Our paddles whispered as they entered the water, the dragonflies were dancing over the surface, and we could glide over the lily pads in quiet. I would fish, then stop and photograph. I’d then put my camera away convinced that the sunset couldn’t get any better, only to pull it back out again. It was a wonderful way to end the day – the quiet of the lake and a mess of sunfish and crappies. And when this morning dawned with quiet and calm too, I headed out early on my bicycle for a quick ride. Like last night there was a great magic in the early hours. The birds were awakening, there was little traffic, the wildflowers were blooming by the sides of the road, and my bike tires sailed smoothly across the pavement. These truly are the “magic hours” and they make me appreciate all that is wonderful about this time and this place.
Across the state of Kansas
We’ve just returned from our bicycling trip across the state of Kansas. In eight days we rode our bikes from the western border of Kansas and Colorado to the eastern border with Missouri. Along with our 800 friends on the Biking Across Kansas (www.bak.org) trip, we were up to the challenges that Mother Nature dealt to us, along with the not-so-flat countryside of northern Kansas. The 500+ mile trip was a test of our stamina as we battled the winds that blew incessantly almost every day on our trip; from the 40 mph headwind we encountered north of Oakley to the 25 mph side winds near the Colorado border. Smiles broke out whenever the winds were blowing favorably at our backs. We biked through the summer heat in the 90’s, were refreshed by the cooler mornings in the higher elevations of western Kansas, were “evacuated” from our tents when a severe thunder and rainstorm was bearing down on us one evening, and we appreciated the cloud cover that kept us cooler on one of our longer days. We enjoyed the golden sunshine that caused the acres of wheat fields to glow, and we watched as they marched across the horizon as the wind blew through the fields. We rode through the small towns that grace the rural landscape across Kansas, both the thriving towns and those that are barely getting by. The people along the route welcomed us with open arms, excited to share their stories, their history, and their pride in their towns. The community of riders renewed friendships and formed new ones. We laughed after we rode through a dust storm that caused our faces and skin to turn brown as the dust clung to our sweat and sunscreen. We swore at the early hills that grace “flat” Kansas, yet we learned to challenge those hills — to ride with abandon on the downhill side, and know that once you climbed the uphill ahead you’d probably find yet another set of hills on the vista before you. It was a wonderful week of learning new things about myself and about my original home state of Kansas.
On the road
We were recently in western Wisconsin on a gray and dreary evening. The weather had threatened rain all afternoon and as dusk was approaching the skies became even darker and gloomier. I was wandering the countryside which is dotted with dairy farms. I had expected this area to be flat but the landscape was filled with rolling hills that gave an interesting depth to the vistas. I turned the corner onto this road and loved the view ahead. Here was a recently paved county road that undulated up and down as it slowly rose to the gray horizon ahead. Seeing the elevation change and all those ups and downs reminded me that eastern Kansas is not as flat as many people presume, and soon we will be bicycling on rolling hills similar to this one. My hope is that all the training miles we’ve put in will pay off in a delightful and rewarding bike ride through all the variety of landscapes that Kansas offers up to us.
lindastaatsphoto.com 