Bemidji, MN

Last summer, I rode a bicycle from Chicago, IL to Devil's Lake, ND. Since I've never written about the adventure, and since it was a long December as far as temperatures went, I thought January might be a good time to talk about summer 2008. January is Bike Month at the Drawing Board.

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Bemidji, Minnesota is perhaps most notable for being the fictitious home of legendary axe-man Paul Bunyan. It's also the home of the United States Curling Team, and a lovely downtown area that sits on the tamer parts of the Mississippi River.

I have no idea how we got into Bemidji, although I can guess our ride in was just boring enough that I can't remember it even a little bit. I believe we went to Target for a little bit, but that might be a fabrication. At some point we probably went to a laundromat, but I can neither confirm nor deny that.

We ate pasta and lounged on the river and made our way to a coffeeshop. I ate a muffin and drank coffee and enjoyed the free internet they offered. It was one of the greatest coffeeshops I've enjoyed, and that was before the owner of the place offered us a bed for the evening. She had a camper in her backyard and it had a TV and showers and everything and we were welcome to use it.

We spent the afternoon in bookstores and at pubs and finally we made our way back to the home. Our host was more than hospitable and handed us over to the camper. We made beds and switched on the Olympics and got ready to take showers. Paul hopped in first while I did everything in my power to not touch anything with my more stinky parts.*

* Which was basically all of me.

Then, it was my turn. I got in and I soaped myself up real good and that's about when the water ran out. In one of my more desparate moments, I completed the rinsing process with a few bottles of refrigerated Aquafina. Still, I was soon dry and warm, so no harm; no foul.

More alarming was the fact that there was no water running into the toilet. This would become an issue later.

I slept as soundly as I had in weeks. The same could not be said for Paul. I woke up to find that he had spent the night with GI problems; the worst second-hand illness I'd ever experienced. The kind lady delivered an exquisite breakfast of coffee, oatmeal, and peaches; oblivious to the destruction that Paul had earlier wrought. I hope she never asks herself where that wastebasket wound up, and I hope even more that she never finds it.

We left the place with boisterous thank-yous and silent apologies. We wouldn't be leaving Bemidji today. It was time for a rest.