Ranier, 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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I am not nearly writer enough to describe the way our morning in Big Falls went. After just about two weeks of consistent riding, our muscles were taut and stiff like an old rubber band. We'd slept directly on top of the concrete while overnight temperatures dipped again into the 40s. Standing up again became less an action; more a process.

This was the part of the day when we stretched, dressed ourselves, stretched again, brushed teeth, and finally stretched before hauling into town for breakfast. I ate an omelette. Paul ate a cinnamon bun that was roughly the size of our tent.

We were kind of in a rough place in deciding our route for the day. We were 40 miles from International Falls*, which was supposed to function only as a turnaround point. Like a schoolyard race, we just had to touch Canada and come back. Trouble was, we'd have to come back through Big Falls. If we just rode to I-Falls and returned, we'd hit Big Falls at just about mile 80; we'd be done for the day, and we'd be stuck in this awful place for another night.

* It's worth mentioning that there were no falls here either. Minnesota is kind of a big liar when it comes to naming its settlements.

We rode north along low-travelled roads, intending not to stop until we hit civilization again, a thing that we'd missed far more than expected for the past 48 hours. There was a gas station that lived in a log cabin and a right turn and a few more cars and then there was a K-Mart. I'd never expected I would appreciate the glory of a K-Mart, but there I was. There were gas stations and trashy salons and Chinese buffets run by Mexican immigrants. After the previous night, it was like heaven.

We meandered into town and found a coffeeshop for lunch. We ate sandwiches and sipped coffee and agreed to spend the rest of our day doing very little. It was the prettiest day we'd seen all week. We fixed a flat tire and visited a bike shop. We spent a few hours at the library. We didn't nearly find ourselves a place to stay.

And so at about four-in-the-afternoon, we left. We weren't sure where we were going; still we left.

We rode east a few miles; north just a little bit too. After waiting on the longest train I'd ever seen, we stumbled into the tiny town of Ranier, Minnesota; four or five square blocks completely overwhelmed with people. There was music and there were tents and we must have looked like tourists because we were immediately greeted by a lady named Tara, who ran the town's bed-and-breakfast. She offered up her free showers and plenty of snacks.

As fate would have it, we arrived on the eve of the town's bicentennial celebration. They were celebrating with music from a Johnny Cash tribute artist, and a big party featuring free food. This is where we would spend our time tonight.

Tara offered up her yard for our tent, so we made camp and took tour of the town. We watched the sunset over Canada, I believe Paul got himself into a paddleboat, and we ate ice cream on a bench. Then we watched the Olympics at Woody's Pub before stumbling back into the tent for another night.