Greetings from the Twin Cities

Good morning, good afternoon, and goodnight! We are joining you live from the capital of the great state of Minnesota--"not just for Lutherans anymore," or so claimed a billboard we saw today. We are now one month and over 2,000 miles into our journey, averaging about 70 miles a day. Having taken 0 rest days for a full month, we have been making great time and found ourselves in Minneapolis (more than halfway!) with time to spare. So, we finally took a day off. We trucked through northern Minnesota so that we could get to MPLS on Saturday night to see the city at its best. Since then, we've taken ourselves out to about 7 "large adult" meals, got drunk off of 2 beers, saw the new Batman movie, and, most importantly, took our bags off of our bikes, changed into regular clothing, and walked and looked like normal people again (or at least as close as we'll ever get). And enjoyed being in our first city of the trip. Oh what a relief it is.

But let's take it back for a moment to where we left you last, in good old Chester, MT, which to us, in bike time, seems like about 4 years ago. It took us about 3 of those years to get the hell out of Montana. No offense, but it got to be pretty drab, and we kind of adjusted our expectations to hoping, but not knowing for sure, that we'd someday cross the border into a different, less eastern Montana-y state. We logged 5 more warm prairie days along the forlorn Highway 2, including a 110-mile day that included not one but two flat tires for Lindsay and ended in a 100-year-old "resort" at a natural hot springs outside of Saco. We imagined that when this place opened, it was pretty sweet. Indoor and outdoor pools, water slides, natural hot tub, and pleasant accommodations. Now it seems to be slipping into oblivion. We opted to stay inside, as they were the self-proclaimed mosquito capitol of the country (although this is a surprisingly contested superlative). The nice women at the front desk also was kind enough to tell us about the cyclist who had just died there a couple weeks before. Then she gave us "one of the nice rooms" in the newer part of the motel. It only had one cigarette smashed into the carpet, a half-eaten Pop Tart, and an unflushed toilet to boot. At least no mosquitos though. We have been running from them ever since.

Our last night in Montana was a holy one: we found refuge from the maneaters this time in the town church, where we somehow caught up with 8 other cyclists doing the same route. We scooted away from there in the morning and began to wander ever further off the route to avoid meeting them again. We rolled into Williston, North Dakota with the wind at our backs. The gusts were up to 40 mph that day, and when we were headed hard east, we averaged about 20 mph. No pedalling necessary. Williston was quite disappointing and we hurried away again before the other cyclists could catch sight of us. We found a wonderful haven that night at a mom-and-pop resort along the shores of Lake Sakakawea, where we slept in a tepee and sampled their famous dishes--pan-fried walleye and Juneberry pie. Our favorite night in North Dakota however (without much competition) was in the 200-person town of Makoti, where we pulled into their town park just as they were wrapping up their 97-year anniversary picnic. They immediately piled our plates full of pasta salads and home-baked desserts, and we followed dinner with spectating their rubber-ducky race in the gutter and a local woman's Powerpoint presentation on her job driving a tractor across Antarctica to the South Pole. We love you, Makoti.

We crossed into Minnesota through Grand Forks, and by then were quite happy to escape N-Dak as well. We found Minnesota to fulfill the promis of many North Dakotans, who told us how pretty it is, and that there are a lot of trees. It felt like a giant oasis after the plains. Lakes just about every mile, more people enjoying themselves outside of the cars/RVs, but again, lots of mosquitos. Another capitol! We stayed our first night in a storm shelter at an RV park and since have had to stay indoors. Open-air sleeping is apparently impossible, as Minnesotan skeeters have no curfew. And man, do they know how to drink.

On the 17th, an ambitious three days from Minneapolis, we made it about 3 miles out of the RV park when Libby had her second tire blow out. A new tire at that! Luckily, we had spares with us, as we had learned our lesson back in MT. Unluckily, we had "misplaced" our pump, which wasn't working that well anyway, back in Minot, ND, in front of the mall sports shop where we bought new tires. We could just imagine it sitting there. So we stuck out our thumbs as our hopes of reaching Minneapolis dwindled and melted away. When all of a sudden (well, not that suddenly), a yellow truck turned around on the highway and 2 friendly women invited us to hop on in--to the bed, that is. It was a windy ride toward the town of Bemidji until their sister, who happened to also be headed that way, also pulled over and offered us to ride in her warm, spacious, American-made car. Our 2-vehicle caravan delivered us to a bike shop in Bemidji, 60 miles toward our destination in a mere one hour. We celebrated by eating a lot of food, ice cream, and cotton candy. Then we actually rode our bikes 70 more miles, 20 of which were on a paved, off-road bike trail! We were happy girls.

Our little mishap ended up being a blessing in disguise, as we had to truck 170 more miles in 2 days to make it to Mpls, barely escaping a giant dark mad scary storm, and navigating through a suddenly harrowing urban land of freeways, dead ends, and no one knowing how to bike anywhere. Mpls was a wonderful respite of trees, lakes, and greenways. Yummy organic food and outdoor patios, perfect weather, and lots of happy white people. And finally even some non-white people. Yay!

It's back to the daily grind for us. We're headed down the mighty Mississippi, then over to Madison and Milwaukee, and across the great lake into Michigan and Canada again!

Love to all.