Texas Hospitality

Posted on April 5, 2015 by Molly

Rich, Bill and Phillis at the Flying Fish

Although my brother, Bill, is a transplant in Texas, he and his wife Phillis have provided a big Texas welcome for the final weekend leading up to our Spring North cycling tour. Our first taste – literally – was en route home from the train station. Being Good Friday and all, they took us to the Flying Fish restaurant in Forth Worth for lunch. They claimed not to know that it had been dubbed “Lent Central” but that seems highly suspicious. Regardless, we enjoyed the local fish delicacies and an outdoor meal.

Our next culinary delight came after a long drive in the countryside outside of Granbury. We enjoyed the rolling hills, trees, wildflowers and greenery along the way and eventually arrived at the Loco Coyote. Situated in a pasture, the long low-slung building was rustic with all the appeal of a cowboy hangout. We chose the open air room, and once again were treated to family-style seating. That turned out to be the afternoon's best entertainment.

We shared our picnic table with three young men, all of whom were local high school football coaches. The cultural clash between Minnesotans and born-and-bred Texans devoted to the state's athletic pastime, fueled by Bill's insatiable appetite for telling jokes made for some memorable story telling and a lot of laughs. They regaled us with their stories of noodle fishing, and we battled back with tales of ice fishing. While the barbecue was delicious, it was the local flavor that made it memorable. We all left still chuckling.

Easter provided some good family time, a service at an old country church in the midst of being restored, a visit to the farm and a traditional ham dinner. Despite the cool temperatures, it was a warm holiday.

Lest we grow too fat and lazy before starting our cycling tour, we made sure not to neglect our bikes. The first task was to reassemble them following their Amtrak journey. Rich made quick work of that job while Bill and I supervised. We've made a few circuits around Pecan Plantation to make sure both we and the bikes were in good working order. Everything checked out, so it's all systems go for tomorrow's departure. A full week after leaving home, we are ready and eager to start cycling. And we're counting on finding more Texas hospitality along the way.

Becoming Amtrak Fans

Posted on April 4, 2015 by Molly

With storms looming in the area, I was glad not to be boarding a plane. Leaving on a train I had no worries about weather, nor did I care much about schedule. We had plenty of time to reach our destination and the flexibility to move about and relax as we traveled. But there are far more reasons to love Amtrak. For starters, they are cyclist-friendly. For a mere $10 each, we could check our bikes on the train and feel confident that they would be handled with care. Even having to box them up is fairly easy (ok, so Rich does all that for us), and rumor has it that Amtrak is adding roll-on baggage cars for bikes on their long haul routes soon.

For this trip we have an overnight journey from St. Louis to Dallas. We did learn from our last train ride that attempting to sleep sitting up is a foolish endeavor. So we booked a little sleeper this time. It's highly compact with two seats facing each other, but ingeniously designed to convert to a bed with a drop down bunk above – already made up with sheets and blankets. We can close the door and curtain and easily retreat to our own personal space.

What I didn't expect was the first class treatment that comes with the sleeper. We had a private waiting lounge to use before boarding, and were assisted to our compartment by a gracious conductor who continued to see to our needs throughout our travels. The dining car was just next door on our upper level, and all meals came included in our package. Even though we'd already had a delicious dinner before departing, we couldn't resist the opportunity to relax over a glass of wine and bite of salad as we departed St. Louis.

From the comfortable lounge car we were able to see barges traveling along the Mississippi River, their push boats lit up over the water.

I'd be lying if I said we got a great night's sleep. Rich heard the ubiquitous train whistle and above him I felt the jerky swaying of the train, but neither of us minded the unique nighttime interruptions. Just getting sleep and avoiding a stiff neck was a vast improvement over last time.

Venturing down the rail car I found full blown movie-style sleeping compartments. I even overheard a woman talking about their shower leaking out onto the floor. A shower? Really? I was happy enough to brush my teeth and clean up in the cramped communal bathroom. Our accomodations were luxurious enough for me.

Breakfast in the dining car was family style. The overhead announcement informed us we would be seated with strangers and leave with friends. We were game – meeting other folks traveling is always intriguing.

The morning's scenery changed to Texas countryside. Green pastures, leafy trees and beautiful purple blossoming trees passed by. The backside of small towns and the occasional glimpse down Main Street provided interest. Space, lots of it, everywhere. Two boys riding their bikes. That will be us soon.

We are already pouring over the Amtrak map, pondering our next train ride. No doubt it will involve bicycles at one end. We are rapidly becoming Amtrak cycling fans.

Signs of Spring

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Molly

What a difference a day makes. Leaving the Twin Cities brown and drab, hustling out to the car in 40ish degree temperatures, it was definitely Minnesota's version of early spring. It will be weeks before the trees have leaves and flowers open there, and much longer at home in Duluth. Heading south we covered not only miles but time, as the season advanced rapidly as we drove. The car's outdoor thermometer climbed to just above 80, and our senses were assaulted by heat as we stepped out of the car to refuel. Oh, it felt good.

Our destination was my cousin's home in St. Louis where we spent a delightful day and a half visiting with family. Lawns were green, daffodils blooming, magnolias bursting out with their brilliant colors and fruit trees were covered in blossoms. Their yard alone gave testimony to the season that was rapidly unfolding before us.

It was a delight to go for long walks without jacket and jeans, to feel the warm breezes and the sun on my skin. We found Mama Canada Goose tending her nest while Dad lazily ignored us floating on the pond. Better yet, Mama decide it was time to rotate her position, giving us a rare view of her brood of eggs.

I wasn't the only one enjoying the sun. In Buder Park, the turtles packed any surface that protruded from the water to catch some rays. And we even glimpsed some elk and bison hanging out in the trees. Rich was a happy camper after spotting and photographing a Red Headed Woodpecker – a new bird for him. That's a “Lifer” in bird watching lingo, I learned. I at least managed to get a glimpse of “Woody.”

It's hard to fathom that this is the termination point of our Spring North cycling tour. We have yet to reach the heart of Texas where we will begin. By the time we return to St. Louis with at least 1,500 cycling miles behind us, these first signs of spring will have progressed to the height of the season. It looks like our plans to follow the spring north are right on track.

Spring Training

Posted on March 27, 2015 by Molly

It’s barely over a week away now. The Spring North Cycling Tour looms, and yet I’m still struggling to get time on my bike. So far I’ve logged a grand total of 157 miles. Normally, I do that week in, week out. And on tour that represents just 3 days of cycling.

We’ve never toured this early in the season before. Usually by the time we set out on a trip, we have had months of training behind us and it feels like a natural extension of our summer’s activity. And we are already well acclimated to the weather.

First bike ride of 2015 Not so this time. With temperatures bouncing between the 20’s and 40’s here in the Northland, I have yet to complete a ride without frozen toes. So when I look at the forecast for Johnson City TX, which we expect to reach within a few days of starting our trip, I find it hard to conceive of readings that climb into the upper 70’s and 80’s. I will be going on faith when I pack my short sleeve jerseys and leave behind my heavy layers. Intuitively I know I shouldn’t be needing them, but it sure is hard to let go at this stage.

Spring is a relative term. On the North Shore just having the ice recede is a victory, even if the snow still clings in the shadows and the wind off the lake rarely registers above the freezing mark. The thought of wildflowers blooming is still a foreign concept. But very appealing.

We have made a few adjustments to our gear for this season. To date, we’ve mostly traveled in late summer or fall with the benefit of remarkably dry weather. With the very real likelihood of spring showers, we’ve made a concession and added fenders to our bikes. I hated to mar the stark features of my bike with such mundane accessories, but ultimately decided that comfort ruled over style. Drier feet are worth it. We’ve also swapped out our down sleeping bags for ultra-light thinner models. Now I’m really counting on the warmer climes to moderate the night time temps.

There’s no doubt the start of this trip is going to be a shock to the system. The sudden accumulation of miles. A sharp spike in temperature. And a vast blossoming of color in our world. Despite our lack of training for all this, I’m sure I can take it. Bring on the Spring North Tour!

An Aurora Hunter’s Wife

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Molly

I’ve gotten used to living with an Aurora Hunter. The constant monitoring of atmospheric indicators. The blips and beeps that go off night and day from apps informing him of favorable conditions. Flinging around mysterious terms like Kp index, solar wind speed, Bz and coronal mass ejection. And the nocturnal trips out into the dark and cold. All in search of Northern Lights.

It’s a lot like going to estate sales. The ads sound really good, and you’re sure you’re going to find some real treasures. But the reality is many of the sales are duds with nothing of interest. Then just when you think you can’t stand to walk through one more crowded house crammed with odd stuff, you hit a gem – a true winner. And all those fruitless trips were worth it just for this one.

I’ve gotten good at sleeping through most of this. So good that two nights ago I had no idea that Rich’s alerts went off around 2:00am, pulling him out of bed and out into the night. It wasn’t until shortly after my alarm went off at 6:00am that I heard him – returning. And this time he was victorious. “Oh Wow” were the first words out of his mouth. The rays were dancing around the sky and he could even see the reds with his own eyes. Pretty impressive, and I admit to feeling a twinge of envy. To be fair, he did text me with a description and lot of exclamation points, but I slept through that bleep as well.

With promises of another night of auroral activity, I suited up in all my long underwear and winter gear to go along this time. The word was to get out early, and it was good advice. After driving an hour to a remote lake with a good view away from any city glow, we could already see faint green spires shooting into the sky even in the fading light of the sunset. The darker the sky got, the more aurora lights we could see. By 9:30 the lights were emanating from a full semi-circle around us, spreading well up into the sky. The best part was when the most brilliant lights started on the right and unfurled above the horizon. It was easy to see them advance across the sky above the lake, twisting and growing as they illuminated the night.

Photo by Rich Hoeg

Naturally Rich was out with his camera, his passion being to capture the magic. Thinking I had plenty of time for that later, I merely watched. It was liberating to just take in the lights, to be able to look all around the sky at the various components of the light show and the interplay between the columns of light. Later when it became clear that it was the peak of the display, I wished I had been prepared to photograph it. But then again, I would have missed much of the drama.

By the time I did set up my tripod and camera, the lights were dimming. No longer did we have the deep green hues and movement. But it was still beautiful. Shortly after I took a few test shots, the color began to fade. Surprisingly, the resulting photos had some merit. It helps that the camera captures more color than I can see.

We lingered for about another hour, but the lights dwindled to a dull white glow. Although the indicators were still quite positive, the reality was that the show had ended. It never did reach the pinnacle that it did the previous night, but that’s the nature of the Northern Lights. Nothing is ever guaranteed.

I know enough now that I will probably miss some of those spectacular displays. I just don’t have the persistence to act on every alert. But Rich does, and if I get lucky in choosing when to accompany him I will likely see some pretty good Northern Lights, like last night. Such is the life of an Aurora Hunter’s wife.

Cycling…in the Pink

Posted on March 15, 2015 by Molly

Every long distance cycling trip we take starts with a laundry list of detailed preparations. Route selection alone can take months. After all, half the fun is pondering the options and researching a variety of potential destinations. Once that is settled, a map is produced and we move on to checking out sightseeing, lodging options and local specialties. The final push includes gathering our gear, making sure everything is in tip top shape (including ourselves) and checking off each item on our packing list.

But we’re still not ready to go. The last essential piece is Marketing. What would a tour be without a distinctive name? a logo? and of course, matching jerseys? There’s no mistaking our mission when we’re out on the road, and that is no accident. Our shirts say it all.

This shameless bit of of self-promotion actually contributes a lot to the trip. Somehow our jerseys make us approachable. Just sporting a blatant advertisement for our journey invites questions, from the random query at a rest stop to swapping fascinating stories over breakfast in a café. We’ve even had folks ask how they can sign up for the tour!

This year the name came fairly quickly. Starting in the south we’re following the spread of the warm weather, hence Spring North. The logo was an obvious choice. Seeing the bluebonnets of Texas in bloom will be a highlight of this trip, so a blue flower won hands down. And the jerseys, well, let’s just say we picked an eye-catching color.

Now one might naturally assume we’d have blue jerseys to go with the theme. But this color maven complained that we’d done blue too many times already. I need some variety in my cycling apparel. Little did I know that when Rich mockingly said “how about pink?” that he was serious enough to carry it through.

I should have known better. Back when our son was on a Lego League team, they chose the name “Super Nerds in Pink.” Being a supportive coach who was anxious to motivate his team, Rich promised the boys that he’d let them spray paint his hair pink if they made it to the state tournament. Well, the boys delivered and Rich made good on his pledge. A precedent was set.

Today a package came – our custom jerseys had arrived. Tearing into the bag, we pulled out our prizes. Yes, they’re pink all right. We’d better like them, we ordered two each. Wear one, wash one – that means we can always be in uniform. There will be no missing us this year. We’ll be the folks cycling in the pink.

Instant Spring

Posted on March 10, 2015 by Molly

At first it was hard to believe the thermometer. And to overcome the months-long habit of layering on the outdoor clothes. After two days of sweltering through my run with too many too heavy clothes, however, it was finally sinking in. It really was warm out!

With temperatures well below zero just days ago, and beautiful cross-country ski conditions still a vivid memory, we can be forgiven our inability to grasp the sudden change in season. But it didn’t take long for all of Duluth to head outdoors to enjoy the transformation. And I love watching the parade.

The Lakewalk is virtually a highway of pedestrians. Dog walkers, high school track teams, runners and baby strollers are in abundance in colorful garb. Nobody seems to mind sloshing through the inevitable puddles or crossing the streams that flow over the pavement. The faces I pass are all smiles.

Brighton Beach is populated with folks of all ages, taking in the rapidly shrinking ice formations on the lake. Close to shore there are still remainders of the ice shards that were once piled so high, now surrounded by watery pools on top of the rapidly melting ice. Further out, the ice is turning darker as it thins. Plenty of ice houses attest to the fishermen’s belief that it is still viable. But you’ll never find me venturing out there.

Open water is rapidly advancing toward Duluth. While Lake Superior reached over 90% ice coverage just a few weeks ago, it opened up quickly with the wind and sun. The edge of the ice field has now retreated all the way down to Brighton Beach.

Last week the thought of the Coast Guard ice breaker beginning its duty on Monday seemed outlandish. By the time we saw her out plowing through the ice, it seemed perfectly natural. One could already imagine spotting boats out on the horizon heading for the Aerial Bridge.

At 57 degrees this afternoon, I just had to hop on my bike and head up the North Shore. I was hardly alone. Cyclists were whizzing up and down the Scenic Highway, exchanging friendly waves and nodding. Sure the shoulders were still full of gravel, but it was a small price to pay for the vast pleasure. Like the rest of them, I too was grinning and loving it.

Of course, everyone knows this is Duluth. Winter isn’t over until it’s over. But I did happen to stop in a ski shop this afternoon, and was startled to find the wall of cross country skis barren and empty. All put away to make room for bicycles and other summer gear. It was instant spring in there too.

Cyclists eager to Spring North

Posted on March 8, 2015 by Molly

There’s a feeling of spring in the air today. Funny how temperatures just above freezing along with some welcome sunshine can feel so balmy here in the Northland. It’s enough to start one’s brain dwelling on flowers, wearing shorts and of course… cycling! Knowing this blip of warmth is just a tease here in Duluth, we’ve taken measures to find true spring instead.

Announcing the Spring North cycling tour for 2015! The idea is to head straight south, searching out warmth and blooms in the heart of Texas. From there, we will work our way back north, as spring warms the adjoining states throughout the month of April.

Once again, we are using Amtrak and the $10 charge for taking our bikes on board to give us a one-way trip. Leaving our car in St. Louis, we’ll board the train and spend the night in a sleeper car, arriving in Dallas the following morning. After spending Easter weekend with my brother and his wife, we plan to set off from Granbury, Texas and head south to the Texas hill country. Our hopes are to catch the Texas Bluebonnets in bloom. Rich has been talking about this for a couple years now, so fingers crossed we get the timing right.

From there we swing back north, traveling through the Ozark Mountains in Oklahoma, Arkansas and Missouri. We will complete our journey along the Katy Trail, which follows the Missouri or “Big Muddy” River right back into St. Louis again. In all, about 1,500 miles.

The timing of this trip presents a bit of a challenge for us northerners. No opportunity to train! If we’re lucky, we may get a day or two on our bikes if the temperature spikes in the next few weeks. Otherwise, we will be training as we go. It’s not our fitness level that we’re concerned about – cross-country skiing has kept us in shape through the winter. But without any time in the saddle beforehand, that first week could be a bit sore on the behinds until we get used to cycling again. But we have a remedy for that too.

This bike tour does not have a solid end date. Although we can expect to complete the mileage by early May, we have no firm commitments requiring a timely return home. So we have the option of starting off with lower mileage, taking things more slowly or doing unplanned detours along the way. We’ve never been very good at veering from the original plan before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Our jerseys are ordered, the train tickets purchased and bikes tuned up for the journey. It’s still all a bit hard to conceive while there’s still ample snow on the ground. But we’re banking on warm weather in the south, and looking forward to Springing North.

Super Silent Sports

Posted on March 4, 2015 by Molly

I love the term “silent sports.” It embodies what I treasure most about outdoor activities. Human powered, surrounded by nature, testing one’s physical strength and endurance, going the distance. My day isn’t complete without an hour or more spent engaged in this pursuit.

When the snow fell yesterday, I couldn’t wait to get out in it. Six inches of fluffy new powder lay on the ground, and I knew the ski trails would not yet be groomed. But for once I actually preferred it that way. Admittedly, I had new waxless classic skis I wanted to try out, but I was also anxious to just get out in the deep new snow.

Cross-country skiing undoubtedly qualifies as a silent sport. But skiing the untamed fresh snow brings it to the pinnacle of silent. Normally my skis would swish over the groomed trail with a satisfying sound that testified to a long glide. My poles would make squeaky complaints as they pierced the snow and angled against the crust until they were released for the next plant. Natural sounds, yes, but noisy in their own way.

The fresh layers of snow muffled all those sounds. Those that had skied before me were long gone, leaving only a vague trace. My skis slid quietly through the downy snow and although I made slow progress over the hidden tracks it was deeply satisfying. There was no need to hurry, no urge to push to the max, no impulse to get in a good workout. Just plowing through the snow was enough. My poles too were muted as they stabbed the soft snow, gaining just enough purchase to help propel me forward.

The woods lining the trails were equally muffled. The pine boughs were layered with snow and the ground under the trees was blanketed by the snowfall. Any noise I managed to make was immediately absorbed by my surroundings, as if it had never existed. It was a world shrouded in stillness.

All it took was six inches. Half a foot of fresh white snow to transform a silent sport into a super silent one. I relished every bit of it.

Backyard Skiing

Posted on February 24, 2015 by Molly

My faith in winter has been restored. After weeks – no months – of brown trails I found it hard to maintain my enthusiasm for cross-country skiing. Sure, we could drive to find enough snow for skiable trails, but that wasn’t the point. I was used to walking out the door with my skis, sauntering up and over the bridge and skiing off into the woods. The lights for night skiing seemed to mock me each time I saw them shining through the trees in the evenings or early mornings.

All it took was a 5″ snowfall to set things right again. It was enough for the city groomers to ply the trails for the first time all winter. February 10 has to be a record. Since then we’ve been graced with light snowfalls that have continued to renew the trails.

The first time I ventured out on the trail, I could feel it. That sense of well being. Of gliding over the snow in our own woods. Every turn was familiar and I took pleasure in passing my favorite spots along the way. The steep hills were still a challenge, and the long downhill on the way back brought on its requisite chill.

Now I remember why I like cross-country skiing. Getting outside on the snow. Relishing the silence of the woods. Pushing hard to go up and riding back down. Feeling the skis glide across the snow. Being the first one out on fresh corduroy. The brisk air on my face. The toe warmers glowing in my boots to ward off the cold. And if I’m lucky, feeling the warmth of the sun shining down.

Granted, conditions aren’t always perfect. There are those days so cold that my skis forget how to glide. And my fingers freeze soon after I begin skiing. At times the trail gets worn down from all the skiers, turning hard and crusty, begging to be regroomed.

Yet despite any drawbacks, it’s still “our” ski trail. And I’ll keep going back to ski. After all, it’s right in our backyard.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Texas Hospitality

Becoming Amtrak Fans

Signs of Spring

Spring Training

An Aurora Hunter’s Wife

Cycling…in the Pink

Instant Spring

Cyclists eager to Spring North

Super Silent Sports

Backyard Skiing

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