This past Friday, I
left for Minneapolis
for a four-day adventure that would include two days of cycling around the Twin
Cities. I was a little under the weather, but I was well enough to go on Friday
morning. Barely.
We were picked up bright
and early and, along with a group that had already boarded in Brandon, we headed south for the border.
Before approaching
customs, I noticed this new sign:
According to the
newest published Manitoba
map, PTH 75 turns east into Emerson and PTH 29 continues on to the border.
After I got home I checked the latest update to the online Manitoba highway map and
confirmed that PR 200, which previously ended at PTH 75 in Emerson, now turns
west to meet it here.
It also means that PTH
29 has been officially taken off the books and that PTH 75 goes directly to the
border.
Those are details that
may only interest me, but, well, it’s my blog. In any event, I’ll have a little
bit of work to do to fill in those details at http://www.canhighways.com/MB/.
We passed into the U.S. and we
were served promptly and professionally by CBP officials at the Pembina Port of
Entry. While waiting for them to search the bus, I noticed that I was
surrounded by a bunch of people wearing Blue Jays paraphernalia.
This was a baseball
tour and though I wasn’t going to any of the games, I didn’t realize that so
many people were going for the wrong team. In many respects, it’s a sad
statement showing what power the media holds over the Canadian people.
20 minutes later,
after a little bathroom break, we were back on the bus headed south along I-29.
For the first time on one of these tours, we didn’t make a stop in Pembina at
the Duty Free Americas shop. Since they wanted to get the group to the game at
Target Field in downtown Minneapolis
that night, they decided to skip the Pembina stop in favor of a stop there on
the way back.
Soon after we passed
Pembina, we had to suffer through several games of bingo. I suppose it’s not a real
bus tour without it, but it’s getting more and more annoying each time I have
to listen to those bingo numbers being called.
I noted with interest
when we passed by the rest area past Exit 180. Years earlier, I had always
called it the “Fort”, since there was a replica of an old fort there. That fort
has now been dismantled and replaced with a brand new building. According to
the sign, it’s also a Wi-Fi hotspot. How times change.
I also noted that most
of the exit signs along I-29 had been replaced with new equivalents featuring
ClearviewHwy typeface. This is the new standard font that is replacing the
former FHWA typeface that had been previously used across North
America. The S.P.R.M. is also in the process of replacing all of
its signs with Clearview, including the trunk
highway and provincial road markers.
Again, these are
details that may only interest me, but if you’re driving down a highway and
wondering why that sign looks a little different, now you’ll know why.
We made a brief pit
stop at West Acres mall in Fargo
before getting back on the road.
Our bus
Again, it’s not a bus
tour without an annoying movie and this was no exception. Moneyball was the choice this time and though the movie wasn’t that
bad, it was particularly annoying on account of the high volume it was played
at. I liked the book better. There was more detail and it was quieter.
As we headed south
east, I took note, as I did along I-29, that the side of the highway was clean
and free of litter. This is in sharp contrast to many highways in the S.P.R.M.,
in addition to the trails in Winnipeg,
that double as junkyards. Throughout my trip south of the border, I did not
notice one single piece of litter on any of the trails I traversed.
I remember conversing
with someone on an old BBS board many years ago who said that Canada has much cleaner cities than in the U.S. Not now
they don’t.
We made a brief stop
at Sauk Centre
and I noticed this sticker on the back of the other bus we were following:
Do you really want to
be on this bus?
In any event, the rest
of the passengers loaded up at the liquor store next door and I think I was the
only one on the bus who didn’t buy any liquor. We got to the hotel a couple of
hours later and the rest of the group were on their way to the game shortly
thereafter.
I later learned that,
after Sauk Centre,
a piece of wood struck the windshield of the other bus on the passenger’s side.
Glass flew everywhere, but everyone was all right, including the driver. They
got the windshield repaired that night, probably while everyone was at the
game.
The view from my hotel
room
The next morning, with
the bike that I had brought along and stored in the lower compartment, I set
off for the big city. Still a little tired and sporting a fever, climbing hills
were particularly difficult, but I got on the Cedar
Lake trail at 11th Avenue in Hopkins.
From there, the trail
turned into the equivalent of an Interstate highway for a cyclist. There were
benches, garbage cans, little rest areas, and all sorts of signage on the
dedicated trail.
More important,
however, was the people on them.
They were respectful.
When I was passed, which was often, I
heard nothing but “on your left, sir”, not the “f--- you, a---hole” that I
would more commonly hear in the capital of the S.P.R.M.
There were no
unleashed dogs, nor any joggers armed with the self-proclaimed moral
entitlement to disregard every law in the land. Everyone stuck to their own
side of the road and though, later in the day, the trail became quite
congested, I can’t say it was a problem. The other cyclists were also
well-behaved and stopped at stop signs and red lights. Imagine that!
I figured out pretty
quickly that I wasn’t in the S.P.R.M.
My first major stop of
the day was Lake Calhoun,
a highly-scenic area near downtown Minneapolis.
Circling the lake are
two separate trails, one for cyclists, one for pedestrians. Again, the
separation is respected by the trail users.
Strangely, the bike
path around Lake Calhoun was only one-way, but since I
was circling the entire lake anyways, it wasn’t a problem.
I had to stop a number
of times to take pictures.
This is a little lake
just off the south west corner of Lake
Calhoun.
I noticed this sign
for the Linden Hills neighborhood.
“We look out for each
other,” the sign says. Another indicator that I wasn’t in the S.P.R.M.
After finishing with Lake Calhoun,
I spent a little time around nearby Lake of
the Isles.
Back on the Midtown
Greenway, I took note of one of the many Emergency call boxes along the route.
Knowing that, unlike
the S.P.R.M., they actually have law enforcement agencies in Minnesota, there might actually be someone
on the other end of the line who would care if you were in distress.
The Midtown Greenway
passing under the Uptown
Transit Center
I exited the Midtown
Greenway at Nicollet Avenue
and proceeded north into the heart of the big city. Unknowingly, I passed by an
area that tourism officials call “Eat
Street”.
What these bureaucrats
like to call “culture” is, in reality, a collection of run-down, dirty,
mom-and-pop-style restaurants that most people would be embarrassed to take
their dog to. Despite my blocked nasal passages, I could still smell the foul odors
coming from these restaurants and they weren’t exactly a ringing endorsement.
I did have an
appetite, but I didn’t need a tour of the nearby Hennepin County
Medical Center,
so I kept going.
Passing the Hilton
Minneapolis, I noticed one of the many depots for Nice Ride MN, where you can
rent a bike. Swipe your credit card, take a bike for a ride, and return it to one
of the many other depots around the downtown area.
After locking up my
bike at the IDS Center, I stopped for a lengthy lunch break at Gaviidae Common
before moving on.
I always make a point
of touring Cancer Survivors Park
in downtown Minneapolis
every time that I am there.
Continuing on, I went
past Target Field, home of the Minnesota Twins.
I then followed the
river trail and went past the historic Stone Arch Bridge.
I continued on past
the I-35W bridge and stopped for some shots.
Overlooking the
Bohemian Flats park.
A view of the Mississippi River.
It was already
mid-afternoon and with my tank already depleted, I decided to call it a day and
turn around. My total mileage for the day was 36.06, not bad considering the
condition I was in. It was an absolutely fantastic experience that I would
highly recommend to any cyclist looking to escape the melancholy of the
S.P.R.M. Please make sure you leave your inherent foul attitude at home first.
The next day, I
decided to stick a little closer to the hotel. I was out on Bryant Lake Road near US 212 when my
camera suddenly died after nearly four years and over 38,000 pictures.
Fortunately, I was near a major shopping mall and Target was open at 8:00. Yes,
that’s 8:00 am on a Sunday morning. No, I wasn’t in the S.P.R.M.
I picked up a
replacement, the successor model to my dearly departed loyal soldier and, after
a brief return to my hotel room, I was back in business in short order.
My first stop was the Bryant Lake
Regional Park
near the hotel.
It’s not the biggest
park in the area, but it’s certainly worth a visit if you’re staying in Eden Prairie as I was.
In the afternoon, I
went north and linked up with the Cedar
Lake trail once again.
West of 11th Avenue
in Hopkins and into Minnetonka, the trail is not paved, but it is
a crushed-gravel surface that’s still pretty good.
There are still some
rest stops and scenic places along the route. I went west of I-494 before
turning around at the Glen Lake Golf and Country Club and going back to the
hotel after covering more than 31 miles.
Come Monday morning,
it was time to get back on the bus and head north. It was an incredibly
depressing ride. The trip had been such a good experience that I didn’t want to
leave and the prospect of returning to the S.P.R.M. was making me feel ill.
Fortunately, we were
headed in the opposite direction of Monday morning rush hour traffic.
The ride back was also
quite scary. Seated opposite the driver, I could see him reading his e-mail on
his BlackBerry, writing notes on a paper nestled against the steering wheel,
and rummaging through papers and his CD collection. He was even packing his bag
on the road.
Meanwhile, our tour
guide was fast asleep. She was little more than a passenger on the trip and she
made me appreciate the good tour guides I have had so often on this bus trips.
North of Fargo, we
spotted a series of wind turbine propellers being hauled south on I-29.
We were also treated
to another annoying movie. Bench Warmers
is the most juvenile and worthless production that has ever come from Hollywood. Bar none.
As we passed the
Crystal Sugar plant north of Drayton, I saw a billboard that read “God Bless America”.
There should have been
one nearby that read “God Save Canada.”
It was at that time
that, so close to the border, I felt like we were about to cross from West
Berlin into East Berlin.
Our last stop before
re-entering the S.P.R.M. was the Pembina Duty Free Americas store.
As I sat near the
border waiting for all of the liquor boxes to be loaded on the bus, I stared
across the 49th parallel into the abyss of the S.P.R.M.
After having yet
another positive experience in the Twin Cities, I wanted to throw up knowing
what I was about to return to.
We pulled up to the
customs office and a young man with tattoos on his arm came on board, followed
by a younger woman. He asked the driver how many people were on board, then he got
on the microphone and asked everyone to pass their Je Declare forms forward.
“Everyone here
Canadian citizens, no permanent residents or other special status?”
“Everyone’s aware of
their exemptions? Alcohol and tobacco. Anyone have anything they shouldn’t
have?”
The two of them split
the stack of Je Declare forms, making
sure all the boxes had been ticked with an answer. One couple didn’t tick
anything in a box, so the guy went to the back to find out why. A few minutes
later, he returned and sent us on our way.
He didn’t even ask to
see our passports.
I feel so much better
knowing that our borders are so secure.
Or not.
After crossing the
frontier into the S.P.R.M., a gust of wind nearly took control of the bus. The
driver had an iron grip on the steering wheel and managed to get us through it
in one piece, but it was only a stroke of good fortune that he wasn’t involved
in one of his many other activities at the time.
In the immediate
aftermath of the gust, with threatening skies still very much overhead, he
started packing his bag again and persisted most of the way back to Winnipeg.
At the Salisbury House
on Pembina, we got a new driver.
Mr. BlackBerry was
replaced with Mr. I’ve Never Driven A Bus Before.
He couldn’t figure out
how to release the parking brake and only after a half hour on the phone with
someone from the office did he get it released. Even when we did get moving, he
had a lot of difficulty negotiating some tight corners and he really wasn’t aware
as to where he was going.
We finally got back to
our dropoff point and I got back home safely, albeit almost by accident.
As good as the
experience was, I felt like it was a cruel hoax. I saw how good life can be
south of the border and it made the S.P.R.M. look like a rotten, third-world
country by comparison. My eyes have been opened like never before.
I need to seriously
look at emigrating to the United
States. Or leave Winnipeg, at the very least.
