So I left Winnipeg early Wednesday morning after watching my friend Aimee’s soccer team dominate their opponent the night before. I headed south quickly on highway 59 to the US/Canada border. I definitely was feeling sad about leaving Canada because I had such a good time throughout my stay in the country. But all good things must come to an end and I made my way across the border into Minnesota. When I got to the border, I didn’t get the “welcome home” I have heard many Canadians say they are given when re-entering their country. Instead I got grilled by the border guards about everything. Repeatedly asking where I was heading; my first answer was simply “Argentina”. After more questions about what I was doing, what I was carrying, etc they asked me again where I was going and I said “Tierra del Fuego” to which they had a confused look and I explained that was in Argentina. Queue more questions about random things and they again asked where I was going and I replied “Ushuaia” and before they could say another thing I added “in Argentina”. What a welcome home I received! I biked another 15 – 20 kilometers into Minnesota before finding a place to make camp for the night. I stayed in a campground that a nice lady in town paid for me because she’s wonderful, sadly she seemed to be the exception and not the rule. I did chat with a few nice Manitobans and shared a beer or two with them before heading to bed.
(I think I’ve been in the plains too long and have gone more crazy)
When I pulled into Detroit Lakes two days later I made it a short days because I needed the rest after fighting headwinds and knowing the nest few days would be much of the same, and it gave me time to fix a puncture I got that day. I had drinks with a nice gentleman at a bar by the lake which was nice and relaxing and then found a place to hide and camp. My time on the road in Minnesota was a stark contrast from what I experienced the past two months in Canada. I had so many drivers yell at me, honk at me, not give me any space when passing by me. I was made to feel unwelcome on the road even though I never left the extremely large shoulder. My very presence out there was offensive to them. Plus seeing confederate battle flags didn’t help the feeling that I didn’t belong there.
After Detroit Lakes I rode my bike to Motley and had to patch yet another puncture. This was getting old real fast. I made it through all of Alaska and Canada without one and now I have had two in a row in Minnesota. This was ridiculous! The nest morning, when leaving Motley I had aspirations to make it to the Cities that night but for that to happen everything had to go right. Five kilometers outside of town I got another flat. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t have any more patches for the tires or a spare after replacing that one. I cursed the state and made it all the way to Elk River which set me up for a short ride into Minneapolis the following day. That night I made camp in the woods of a MTB park on the east side of the city. Someone must have taken offense to my presence there because the cops were called and two squad cards were there to make sure I did not stay there that night. They tried to give me advice to avoid situations like this but it was obvious they knew nothing about bike touring and all their advice was more or less useless. They told me where a campground was over 10km in the wrong direction. By the time I got packed up it was well after 9pm and I was exhausted after one of my longest days of riding. I ended up staying in their fairgrounds and had no more complaints.
(The morning view from my fairground campsite)
I got up the next day and made it to Minneapolis and friendly faces and a shower! I’ll call that a win! With as good as it felt to see my friends, I still have a sour taste in my mouth about how my ride through Minnesota has gone.