Pedaling East

I went to The Sports Shop a few days ago to inquire on bicycles for rent. He was sharpening a hokey skate at the time, sliding its blade over the spinning grinder as sparks flew. “The bikes are put away for the winter,” he said. “All but a few kid’s bikes. How tall are you?”

“Five-seven. And you can probably tell me where I can ice skate too.”

During a few minutes of talk, in which I was being judged for likelihood of returning a rented bike, I learned that each winter at Smoky Bear Park, in the middle of town, they make a shallow pond for ice skating. It’s been too warm to do it yet, but I can have that to look forward to. He finally thought he could find a bike that would work in my size.

So it was that I returned this morning in twenty degree air to rent a bicycle, thinking it might only get colder if I waited, and maybe snow. Today might be my only chance. Soon I was pedaling east out of town on a 21-gear Trek hybrid, watching very carefully for ice on the road.

It took only half an hour to get farther than I had ever walked, past Ranier, over the railroad, and into the forest and hay fields leading to Voyageurs National Park on Highway 11. I passed several resorts, all closed, a gas station and store, driveways leading to lakeshore homes. I climbed hills which rise above the wetland and allow pine trees, with their preference for dry soil, to replace the birch, spruce and fir.

At the Park Headquarters, I got closer to a great blue heron than we ever could at Balsa Chica in Southern California, albeit stuffed in the exhibit, but still strange to find the same species thriving here. (Incidently, if you miss Rocket J. Squirrel in your living rooms, he’s here for the winter.)





The park is named for French Canadians, called voyageurs, who traded with the Ojibway Indians for a hundred years. They exported beaver skins to Europe for hats, so popular there. The voyageurs did not kill many beaver, but made it lucrative for the Ojibway to, giving them steel knives, beads and cotton cloth in trade. It might still be an active market if silk and wool had not come into European style, replacing beaver-skin as the “in” hat material.







Those who frequent the Ranier City Beach in cold weather before snowfall, find tracks of the regulars—common goldeneye, loon, Canadian goose, the occasional great blue heron, deer, and maybe moose. The first snow will cover these remnants of Indian Summer, preserving them until the sand thaws again in spring. This unusual print of a migrating Californian may survive the winter and become visible again in May.





Here is the sunset this evening from near my abode. Notice the Blue Ox Trail, a notch in the trees to the left of the sun, leading out of town, where, depending on snow conditions I can ski or snow shoe.

Trivia: A sign in Barney’s Restaurant says: “Barney’s is now taking Canadian money at par.” This summer, as I pedaled east, my American dollar was worth $1.20 Canadian.