Coop's Corner: The Minnesota Loop

Tuesday, August 19, 2025

The Minnesota Loop - 2025/08/15

My summer is flying by, it won't be long and school will be starting, I'll be back in the bus taking students back to their classrooms. With a very busy and overbooked September approaching, I made quick plans to make a loop through a section of Minnesota that's mostly unknown to me. Initially I'd planned to go mid-week to take advantage of State Park campsites being more available. The State's system now requires advance reservations, either upon arrival at the gate or ahead of time, I began to lay out a rough plan. After keyboard discovery, I found that the parks I'd hoped to stay at did indeed have vacancies. With only a few weeks left of my summer off, there was no reason to put the trip off. So a Friday departure with a return Monday afternoon is what happened.

Here's the actual trip, only a few adjustments had to be made....road construction, Minnesota River flooding...changes of mind....

840 miles over the 4 casual days....

Friday morning there was no reason to ride through the Twin Cities so I did not, it was the longest day and the driest, even though there were a few sprinkles.

A coffee stop in Perham at The Nest...

Maplewood State Park, my first night's camp...

Many years ago....1980?....I joined a bunch of friends at a buddy's cabin in the area. I rode my CB750 through the area and was amazed at the beauty. I've always wanted to return.

Saturday morning, EVERY reason to delay my day's ride.

Waiting out the weather, comfortable with some FM radio...

I took the park's road, this one Signed Min Maint...to exit the park to the south.

A really pretty road...

I saw no one...until I was almost out of the park. I met two bikes, the first one a Yamaha Tenere, the 2nd a BMW GS. Upon seeing me approach, the first rider's face appeared to be a scowl. The BMW guy was obviously laughing....which made me laugh.

After a big breakfast in Fergus Falls and the rich, productive wide-open Ag land west from Fergus to Wahpeton, ND I stumbled upon a unique monument on the edge of town.

Almost 27 years old, the young Charlie Walters was erecting a circus tent pole for the Ringling Brothers Circus in town when disaster struck, a bolt of lighting caught the skyward pole and took poor Charlie. This monument, erected by the employees of the circus stands to commemorate his passing.

Our nephew works for Ardent Mills....but not in Fairmount, North Dakota but rather is based out of suburban Boston.

A grain facility that grew from humbler beginnings....

Tenney, Minnesota for my friend Martha...

There was no way that I was going to go down this one....I had no reason to though that seldom stops me. These 'field' roads are a lot more dirt than gravel.....a rock here and there belies how soft this truly is.

From the same corner along US 75.....

Coffee stop in Wheaton....after realizing that I'd missed my turn....I don't miss very many. I'll go back...after my coffee.

Never seen it done quite this way before...

Remember my comment about muddy gravel? This the result of struggling to merely turn around on that Min Maint road....I was leaving chunks with every step.

This was a target for sure, the ND/SD/MN border marker. After the mud I'd already seen and been on the edge of, the road out there and whether I should go was questionable. This woman after a very friendly hello and text to friends drove away. After seeing the guest register, I'd have loved to have a conversation with her.

Google Earth

The way out looking West.....some fairly big mudholes on the way. Normally that big hump between tracks is not the place to be but in this case it worked for the Yamaha VStar.

Four, maybe five.....6? years ago I toyed with riding part of the SD BDR (Backcountry Discovery Route) and while researching, I followed one fellow's Ride online that ended at the SD/MN border. A fascinating and interesting location, once a town, now little more than a few abandoned streets. Curious at the time, I never dreamed that I'd ever actually see the place but I did, completely a coincidence. White Rock, SD.

Not a great difference....1991 to 2024

Reservation Dam, the floodwaters these pelicans are playing in will run into Hudson Bay.

Worked my way south through Browns Valley and Beardsley, here along the shore of Big Stone Lake, my destination Saturday night. But before getting there I decided to head to Sisseton for dinner.

A very soggy campsite so I stayed on the parking pad.

An evening coffee snack ....

The marsh at the edge of my picnic table and fire ring

While sitting with my campfire, dead center over the top of my jacket....in South Dakota...I was watching that Harvestore silo. I don't really know why, well, actually yes I do.

After another very still and sticky night in the tent and rain soon approaching I decided to head to Ortonville for breakfast.

Sunday, then in the Minnesota River Valley, water was present everywhere in places it normally is not. Here's from today's G map, today being Tuesday, 8/19.... this no surprise.

South of Granite Falls, a detour took me past the Wood Lake Battlefield and I was glad for the opportunity.

Mid afternoon found me in New Ulm's almost-downtown Flandrau State Park.. In the Rustic Campground section of the park, Sunday afternoon I was the only camper present and it was pleasantly quiet, something I believed to have earned after the last two nights.

With the predicted weather I hesitated with a bundle of firewood but I did it anyway and started early.

What you can't hear is the very pleasant hum of the fan. Soon the sound of thunder and wind would drown out any hums. Yes, the fan is a very pale, pastelly pink and has yet to be stolen.

New Ulm radio reported 3.1" of rain in the morning and I believe it. My old reliable Eureka Solo XT performed with excellence once more. Packing up Monday morning between and through some serious showers. The rain was mostly over by the time I got to Faribault and my favorite Faribault-to-home shortcut.

Monday's trip home, altered a bit from the plan due to the hardest riding rain of the trip.

Coffee stop in St. Peter, Fisher Guy was waiting for his friends and were heading for the river. He was a very considerate fella, donned his little umbrella and smoked his cigarette out in the rain, an act for which he was thanked. "You're welcome, I know how rotten it is".

Home about 1:30 Monday afternoon, very disappointed to see this....

Our 6" rain gage had almost overflowed....here's our 'Dry' ditch....

Water is intended to go Under the driveway....only Under the driveway. Here we've got Under and Over Around as well.

I get to use the tractor....

It's nice to be home. I had fun, it was all good and a 4 day trip is just about right. It won't happen anymore this summer but next year I'll try and make another loop visiting more State Parks with other attractions as they appear.

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"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)