The adventure via phone calls and texts
Larry has cycled twelve days covering east Montana, North Dakota, and Minnesota.
Last night he holed up in a Super-8 motel in Alexandria as the sky’s opened up in a nine-hour downpour. He took the opportunity to purchase a ground cover for under his tent, more instant oatmeal and more coffee.
“Does your hotel have Apple TV?” “Oops, that was for your dad,” I texted next.
“That's what I figured.” Larry’s son Adam wrote back. He and his wife Carly have diligently keep tabs on me. On days I feel lonely or sad, they’ve been a lifeline.
Alexandria was Larry’s second hotel stay, two nights ago he couldn’t find a camping spot in Fargo.
“So I’m in Fargo eh? I feel like I was run through the wood chipper doncha know.” Larry text as dusk turned to night.
The touring map he purchased from Adventure Cycling listed Island Park in the center of the Fargo. But the park informed him there were only RV spaces.
“I’d like to rent an RV space for my tent.”
“No, no tents,” they scoffed.
The next nearest camping spot was five miles north of the city boundary, ten miles north of where Larry stood. He decided to call a few hotels, either they didn’t have room or he couldn’t bring his bike inside. Eventually he found an accommodating Super 8.
“How’s the hotel?” Sarah and I asked.
“It’s a dive, with a place to lay my head,” he replied.
“Make sure to use your sleeping bag,” Sarah told him, “in case they have bed bugs.”
“I found the perfect property,” he texted, “Too bad it’s not for sale.”
Between Fargo and last night in Alexandria, he stayed at Fergus Falls.
“It’s exactly what you want,” he told me. “The town is adorable, the houses quaint. Lots of farms, plenty of land, and trees. They have an amazing bike path network. I’ll be on it for a few days. I want to bring you back here to see this town.”
‘Sure,’ I thought, ‘like the promise to tour the northeast and see the fall foliage on my birthday. You made that promise years ago. My birthday is two weeks away, and there you are, on your way to the northeast, solo.’ Talk about putting yourself in a foul mood. I did it in an instant.
Larry rambled on, ever so enthusiastic about Fergus Falls. I quit listening and perused houses for sale on Zillow and found this gem. Sending the link to Larry and to daughter Sarah (my cohort in property search), she texted back, “Looks great, but MN?”
I chuckled.
“You love me this morning?” Larry asked. “I wasn’t sure last night.”
“Yeah, I do. After reading a cycling book and a good nights sleep, something shifted overnight.” I answered. “I don’t know what it was, or what I dreamt of, but I feel better today. What are your plans?”
“How far am I going?” Larry asked.
“That too, but what is your stop tonight?”
“Oh, that’s up in the air, it depends on the headwinds, sometimes they are so strong I loose twenty miles of expected ground.”
Since he’s not headed (north) to Duluth as originally planned, I specifically asked what his stopping point for the season was.
“I might go to St Cloud or north of Minneapolis, rent a U-Haul and come home.” He answered.
“Reference your dental appointment next week, I scheduled a lecture about pirates at the senior center an hour before so I won’t be taking your spot. I’ll wait till Monday to cancel it, just in case your plans change.”
“Ok.” He answered.
“Ok then. Have a good ride, and be safe. I love you, today.”
He laughed, “I love you too.”
“Do you know what this tree is?” He texted. “Buclkeye.”
“How many can you stuff in your pockets”
“How many would you like?”
“100”
