Covid Cross Day #23 Dalbo, MN to Sartell, MN

Covid Cross Day #23

June 24, 2020

Dalbo, MN to Sartell, MN 77 Miles

Start 7:38 AM Finish 4:36 PM

Ride Time 7:24

Ascent 360 Feet

Descent 322 Feet

Tour Total 2022 Miles

Details at: https://cyclemeter.com/3f1ef27914a4c684/Cycle-20200624-0738-89757

I slept great last night at the Bicycle Bunkhouse in Dalbo. I was mindful of gaffes from last year, like not to bump my head on the low doorway. I forgot other things, like to double up the 1” thick sleeping pads. I essentially slept on a plywood bed platform, but was so tired that I slumbered well. I woke up at 5:30 AM with the sunlight and the birds. I took a shower and made myself coffee. I packed up my camping gear that had been drying on the upper level. I edited yesterday‘s report while waiting for my friend Sam to join me at 7 AM. Sam and I have known each other since we were undergrads together at the University of Iowa. I visited him on last year's tour, and this year he was eager to join me for a day of cycling.

I was wearing my Brooklyn jersey for the first time. Donn was on hand when Sam drove into the driveway, and was eager to give Sam a tour of the Bunkhouse. Sam admired the old barn structure and compared the thick wooden columns and beams to my loft in Brooklyn. It was a sunny with a few clouds. We lathered up with sunscreen, and I refused to let Sam ride with his dorky fanny pack, which I hid in my front pannier. We started our ride heading north on county road 47. We would be a stair-stepping north and west on mostly small country roads to Royalton.

We spotted several large cranes taking off from a marsh, and then two does prancing though a field. We passed a picturesque moment of two Amish ladies working in their garden. Sam commented that this image would have been exactly the same a hundred years ago. David Crosby rode by on his motorcycle and showboated with a loud rev as he passed us. We rode around the town of Milaca, which readers might remember from last year translates at thousand lakes. The route bypassed the town, and we didn’t pass any services. We weren’t hungry enough to ride into town. There was bridge construction on 165 Street NE across the West Branch of the Rum River, with only one lane of traffic and an automatic control signal.

In Foley, we rode past Curley's Corner which was not yet open. Back out in the country we saw a white pony with a long mane. We passed several fields full of sheep. Sam was an attorney and mentioned that he had formerly worked as a prosecutor in several of the counties we were riding through; Morrison, Mille Lacs, and Stearns.

In Ramen we pulled into the Grub and Pub, a good-sized establishment that included a general store, a bar, and a restaurant. A few customers were sitting at the bar but it was mostly empty. No one was wearing a mask. I ordered a Grain Belt Nordeast American Amber Lager. The bartender asked if I had ever had cheese curds, which I hadn't so we got a serving. I also ordered a cheese omelette with bacon and toast. There were two locals sitting next to us at the bar who were making fun of our cycling outfits. They started joking that they had ridden here from Oregon on their skateboards and unicycles. Sam saw where this was going and immediately mentioned that we would later be going to Rollie's Rednecks and Longnecks. This was a similar maneuver to Larry David's MAGA hat episode with the bikers. It was later explained to me that Rollie's was an infamous local bar that featured a large confederate flag. Sam said that an African American would never be allowed into Rollie's, and neither would we in our cycling outfits. Sam grabbed a brochure from the bar that supported the Morrison County Second Amendment Coalition that essentially promoted insurrection. We enjoyed our breakfast, beer, and white privilege.

Back out on the road, Sam and I were chased by a little white dog that Sam named Little Skipper. Sam was on a Cannondale racing bike and it was a challenge for me to keep up with him. We had a mild headwind coming into Little Rock. There was a breeze out of the northwest. We passed a stinky poultry farm, and then a stinkier pig farm. Afterwards, we rode by a really foul smelling turkey farm. All of these operations kept the animals indoors, and I imagine tightly clustered. The corn in the fields was nipple high, a week before the Fourth of July.

Sam had PTSD in regards to mailboxes and my close approaches scared him. A few years ago while cycling, he accidentally struck a mailbox and broke his collar bone, scapula, ribs, and a finger. The way mailboxes cantilever out over the road here in rural Minnesota, I could see how such an accident could occur. I often worry that I'll do something like that while I'm noodling around on my phone while cycling.

I hit the 2000 mile mark on my odometer right before crossing the Platte River and entering Royalton. We stopped at Scotty’s Log Bar, which I fondly remembered from last year. My sticker was still on the telephone pole out front. Unfortunately Rosie wasn't here this year and there was no rhubarb pie. We learned that Rosie had taken a job at the hospital in Little Falls. We each ordered a pint of Starry Eyed Double IPAs. We were ahead of schedule and it was too early for Sam's friend to pick us up and give us a ride down to St. Cloud. So we decided to ride the extra 20 miles. We were cycling along the Platte River and now had the wind at our back. A crop duster bi-plane could be seen doing low swoops over the fields.

I had told Sam about my roadside method to take a leak, with my feet planted on the ground with my bike frame still between my legs. Sam was giving my method a try when a police officer pulled over to check if he was ok. Sam coincidentally knew the officer, and everything was copacetic. Chalk up another one for white privilege. We crossed over the MississippiRiver and entered Stearns Country on County Road 1 South.

We got a little confused coming into Sartell. It was hot and there were numerous timing issues. We were anxious to get to our destination. Sam’s sunglasses slipped off his face and hit the pavement. He was upset until he realized they were unblemished. We finally arrived at Sam’s friend Brandon’s 'shed'. Brandon was a cycling enthusiast and had a dozen different types of bikes in his garage. I met a few more of Sam’s friends and we enjoyed a few beers while watching the Liverpool versus Crystal Palace game. We left our bikes at Brandon's and were dropped off at House of Pizza where Sam's friend Sonja met us. Sonja lived in Milaca and gave us a ride back to Dalbo to get Sam's car. We drove back to the Bunkhouse, and then enjoyed a pint of Finnegan's at the Dusty Eagle. Sam and I drove back to St. Cloud where we joined his daughter Ella at House of Pizza where I had a 10" anchovy pie and a few pints of Toppling Goliath.