2025 Bear Hunt Day 2 - Embrace The Miles

I was up and on the road just a few minutes after 5:00.  This felt late by my internal home clock, yet still early.  But the gas station that was supposed to be open 24 hours was closed, so the only coffee I had was the small pod in the hotel room.  No reason not to hit the road.

Predictably traffic was non-existent.  I contentedly motored north in the dark morning.

I finished listening to Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed.  My opinion of the book was unchanged.  It was worth listening to, but not one I intend to come back to.  The last essay was by Tim Kreider and it was by far one of the best.  I was glad (and a little relieved) since I've struggled to like some of his newer writing.

I thought about listening to some podcasts, but jumped right into The Secret Wisdom of Nature by Peter Wohllben.  It was at least mostly about the interconnectedness of the natural world.  It took me a bit to get into the book since so much of it was condescending.  There were several times it said things like:  This probably surprises you...  Or:  ...but it's more complicated than that.  Or the worst:  You might think ... but you would be wrong.  

If I would have had another book that I wanted to start, I definitely would have killed it.  But I soldiered on.  The book did get better - or maybe I got numb to the condescension?  I liked some of the facts and comparisons he gave, even if a few might have been whitewashed to show a point of view.  I did enjoy the basic premise of the book about how interconnected things can be. 

I thought the solutions he gave were far too simplistic and tailored to how he could live his life - a great frustration of mine when anyone gives simple solutions to complex problems.  While humans are doing at least some terrible things, we ARE part of the world; we can't live in a cocoon.  He did acknowledge

 this complication near the end of the book.  Tying it in with the previous book - he never gave the difficult solution of population reduction.  I know this will never happen, but trying to fix global issues with addressing the ever-increasing scourge that a growing population brings is akin to choosing immobility as your mode of transportation.

While the book was a bit of a downer, I was comforted by the book I read the previous year (almost to the day) and its conclusion that on the geologic time scale, humans do not matter.

Ultimately, I give the book a C+.  I had another of his books on hold with Libby, but I got rid of it since I was concerned it would be too similar (and condescending).

The day had started out wonderfully cool.  Going through Wisconsin I did hit a bit of mist/rain.  Then it stayed really nice for the rest of the day.  It was, quite frankly, a wonderful day on the road.  I did get a bit wistful every time I saw people on motorcycles who were obviously touring.

I ended up stopping more often than I usually do for drinks or snacks - odd since I had a whole buffet of food with me.  I'm embarrassed to admit I gorged on too much trail mix so I had to buy some more.

US2 was a bit annoying with convoys of pokey drivers.  But once I turned on to MN46, traffic almost instantly disappeared.  It was quite glorious.  

I motored on to my hotel in Baudette.  The owner was painting, but we talked for a few minutes as she checked me in.  I really do want to come back to fish for sturgeon - still a bucket-list fish for me.

After getting settled, I walked around the dock a bit.  The afternoon was spectacular.  I thought about how fortunate I am to be able to go on these adventures.  I stared across the river at Canada.  I thought about bears, about how special it is to have this enormous friendly border.  I thought back to the book I had listened to and while there may be problems, we are still fortunate in North America to be able to easily go places that are a salve to the soul.

Despite being a good day, it was also a tiring day.  I knew I'd be up too early but turned in early anyway.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 10 & 11 - Home

I woke up a few minutes before my alarm and got ready as fast as I could.  It took me a few extra minutes to get my bear in a cooler since it had finished freezing in a slightly different shape, but I still made it all fit in one of my bigger coolers.  After triple checking the cabin, I was out the door.

Temperatures were cold, and the early morning drive was nice.  I'm familiar with the roads and knew the early route.  I saw some animals - likely a fox (although it could have been a small wolf) and a lynx.  A doe later in the day had me slowing down as well.

The sun rose right as I got to the sleepy border crossing, and I spent a few minutes there as the guard read questions from his computer screen - yes the gall bladder is left with the rest of the guts; yes the paws are still fully attached to the hide.  He had me fill out the declaration form differently than I had seen previously, but as long as I get through, I'll fill it out however they want.  And I was back in the United States.

I listened to Jonathon Franzen's The Discomfort Zone, which was an interesting take on the concept of a memoir.  His writing was once again pretty good, but he comes across as self-indulgent.

Then I listened to podcasts the rest of the day.  I had some older Planet Money podcasts that I finally got around to listening to and I liked them, but they seemed frustratingly abbreviated.

My mind drifted home quite a bit as I thought about my prodigal dog, now returned.  We will have a lot to figure out here.  I'm a bit concerned she may have heartworm and/or tick-born diseases.  But I guess that will only be one thing among many to deal with now.  At least she didn't get hit by a car or chased into the next county by a coyote or...  I really wanted to actually see her and pet her to know that she is actually home.  I think I'll have to take her on a combined thank you and apology tour to all the people that were involved with her over the last 141 days.

The early part of the drive in the US was pretty with many very moosey areas.  Traffic remained light with few evil motorhomes.  

This changed as I got to US 2.  I survived Duluth before heading south and finally getting on the interstate.  The area around Madison had more traffic than I expected for a Sunday, but it was a holiday weekend.  I got to Sis' house and spent some time catching up with her and Liz.  I had a tex-mex tempeh bowl for dinner which was quite good - if a bit unusual - and a really nice change from the crap I had been munching on most of the day during the drive.

______________________

Up early the next morning I started the coffee maker and sat with Sis' dogs.  They were up soon enough and we finished catching up.  I was out the door fairly early since I was also going to lose an hour going home.

The drive went fast enough.  Traffic remained relatively light all day.  Even getting around Indianapolis wasn't too bad.  I had to take a snaking route once I got near home to avoid the many Indiana construction zones.  It took dueling GPS units to figure out the right route.

Back at home, my bear had thawed more than I expected so I took care of it right away.  I guess that is a blessing of a small bear that it went very quickly.

More importantly, I got to see my run-away dog.  She didn't seem happy, but she was quite calm which is probably good enough for now.  There will be plenty of time to try to get her to learn that life with people can be good.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 2 - Our Neighbors to the North

After a reasonably good night's sleep I was up early.  I packed up all my stuff and as quietly as I could loaded up the truck.  Out the door around 4:30, I had the interstate to myself.  Sunrise came near the border with Wisconsin - even through the window of a vehicle it was pretty with fog hugging the ground in several locations.

I finished Franzen's How to Be Alone.  He's quite a talented writer if a bit verbose at times.  What I found a little disappointing is how myopic he comes across - everything he likes is justifiable and good, everything else is less so with a bit of qualification in a few rare instances.  And while he admits watching TV - he does so only by explaining, may times, how much he dislikes TV.  I have another of his books ready for listening, but I switched over to podcasts for the remainder of the day.

Getting around Madison was super easy in the early morning; Indianapolis could take a lesson.  I stayed on the interstate to Eau Claire, taking US53 north for the rest of the day.  When I stopped and got gas north of Eau Claire, I also got some locally-made beef jerky.  It was smoky to the point of almost tasting dirty and had enough salt to give me a coronary.  Even questionable jerky is good so I finished it quickly.  Shortly after getting gas it started to rain, and the rain built to torrential downpours at times.  Much like the previous day, I wasn't in a hurry so I was able to just take my time.  I need tires on the Ridgeline so speeding through the serious ponding would probably have been foolish.

The rain was done by the time I got to Duluth.  It seems like the exact same areas in Duluth have been under construction since 2018?  This wouldn't be so bad, but Duluthites drive ssssslllllooooowwwww.

I continued north and my mood lightened as it started to look more northy.  Traffic was non-existent and I was really enjoying the drive at this point.

All day I had been noticing how great my gas mileage was with moderate speed and a stiff south wind.  Actual mileage may be a bit lower once I calculate it, but this is still outstanding for an AWD Ridgeline.

There were only two cars in front of me at the border so crossing was quick.  The border guard asked me what kind of work I did. "Chemist" 

"Oh?  What do you work on?"

"Diapers."

This was followed by a pregnant pause as he decided whether that would possibly be something that someone would make up (it isn't).

Getting the guns through took a few minutes but was easy enough.  It is quite incredible that I can cross an international border with a couple firearms for a nominal fee, one piece of paper and a friendly conversation with a Canadian Official.  North America is a wonderful place and Canada is a wonderful country.

Once into Canada I found my hotel.  Walking into my room brought back memories of my 2021 bear hunt and all the angst about getting across the very recently opened border.  The world is slightly more normal now than it was then.  Once partially unpacked I walked down to the Fort Frances Tower.  It was closed in 2021 due to COVID and was now closed due to flooding a few weeks prior.  Some day I'll get up top (maybe).  

I had never thought that boats must cross the border, but I suppose they need customs when this happens as well.  I also suspect I'm not supposed to take pictures of the border area.  Oh well - I was in Canada.

Google maps showed me where a convenience store was so I could get some chips.  It ended up being quite a long walk but gave me a chance to see some of Fort Frances.  It reminded me of something, but I couldn't grasp what until I caught a smell that reminded me of my Opa and Oma's house in St. Catharines, ON.  This must have been a coincidence since there is no reason for a Canadian house to smell different than a US one, but it is still amazing how evocative scent can be.  For sure - Fort Frances has a mix of houses, but the neighborhood reminded me a lot of Opa and Oma's.  I also know my memory may be fading...

After I got back to the common area by the water, I decided to walk out to the point near the US.  I was getting tired of walking which is weird since I walk so much at home.  I suspect I was really getting tired of walking without a dog.  The weather had markedly improved through the afternoon, so I made the most of it.

On the way back there was a vehicle sobriety checkpoint which seemed odd for 4:30 in the afternoon - usually I hear of these late at night after people are leaving the closing bars.  But then I remembered ... Canada...

Back at my hotel I munched on my chips and some Rainy River Meats Pepperettes (do recommend).

Another noodle bowl and guilt-inducing Ding Dongs ended my day.  I went to bed hoping all my ducks were in a row for a final few hours of travel.

The Start of Something Big Day 3 - THE Start

Lake George, MN to Madison, WI:  550.8 miles

After a much better night's sleep than the previous night (no trains up here in northern Minnesota), I putzed around the hotel room for a while and changed my plans a bit for the day.

When I was a young kid, I always wondered how roads ended.  I don't remember having the same discomfort about where they started since they seemed to start at the end of the driveway (I guess).  I lived on a dead end street, so I suppose I may not have been too bright as that pretty much defines how a street ends - at least in suburbia.  That dead end street today in Google StreetView looks terrifyingly like it did way back when.

I suppose another possibility is that this book came out when I was young and was seemingly a staple of every school library.  The cover scared me (I felt bad for the dog) and it didn't look anything like the cul-de-sac I lived on.

Back in 2001 I was able to discover another dramatic way a road ends while on South Padre Island in Texas.  The main road on the island just ends - swallowed up by the sand dune the consumes it.

An equally pertinent childhood question:  Where does a river start.

The answer is ... it depends.  And the answer is also dependent on culture, history, politics, and yes, geography.

The Mississippi River watershed covers over a million square miles and is arguably the most important river system in North America.  It starts somewhere north of where I live.  Canada at one point was claiming the headwaters since that would have given it much more control over the water.  But Canada lost.  Northern Minnesota is dotted with many lakes and streams, any number of which could be the start of the river.  The story of the "true start" of the Mississippi River is filled with giant scientific egos in a way that science is still dotted with too many giant egos.  At various times Glazier Lake, Elk Lake, Turtle River all claimed to be the ab initio.  After reading about the history of the area, I sort of like Lake Bemidji since it is where the water begins is long, slow, meandering journey south toward the Gulf of Mexico.

While detractors remain, culture always wins and in this case is aided by the USGS.  Lake Itasca is the source of the Mississippi River (and the earth is flat).  I've crossed the Mississippi more times than I can count.  I've been to near where it dumps into salt water.  It is time to see the source.

Lake Itasca was about 15 very cold minutes away from Lake George.  The state park that contains THE start of the river didn't open until 8:00 so I had to putz around for a bit and got gas before heading that way.  With temperatures in the 30's, a few people at the gas station felt obligated to tell me it was "a bit cold for a motorcycle."

I got to Lake Itasca State Park and entrance was self-serve so I probably could have gotten there earlier.  There was no pen though so I dug around in the motorcycle pockets and found one.  It was so cold that the pen barely worked; I'm betting the park will need to call me for clarification since it was almost unreadable.

Once inside the park a bridge crosses over the Mississippi River - here it is just a stream, gurgling insignificantly along.

The parking lot for the head waters was nearly deserted, but I was surprised to see a tour bus this early.  I figured maybe it was just parked for the night.  I walked the short path to the lake only to see a large amount of people.  However, they were much more interested in something other than the water as it became obvious they were birders.  Birders are a fanatical lot (which I suppose is good).

I wandered around a bit and tried to walk across the stones, but the water was just high enough that I doubted myself.  I turned around and had a conversation with a birder who was watching me, "I'm on a motorcycle and with as cold as it is, if I go in, I'm done."  A short distance away was a log allowing me to walk across the Mississippi River.

Shortly the birders left to go find feathers elsewhere and I had the Headwaters to myself.  I took quite a few pictures on the stunning, cool morning.  It was hard to contemplate the distance to a sultry New Orleans.

After wandering around a bit, I found a perfect pooh stick for the longest game of pooh sticks in history.  Standing on the log across the river, I tossed it in.  I watched it wend its way downstream until I could no longer see it anymore.  I left it to go on its journey while I turned away to go on my own.

I rode out through the park and was glad I did since it was such a pretty morning, even if it was cold.  I wished I had more time to explore as it looked like there was lots of pretty hiking to do.  I'm not sure I would want to do it during July since I suspect the park is loaded with people then.

Temperatures were warming slightly, but there was just enough wind to be a bit painful at times.  I continued south to Alexandria, Minnesota.

In 1898 Olof Öhman was clearing land for a farm and unearthed a large stone inscribed with runes.  At first he didn't think much of it, but eventually the writing was traced to Viking origins of an age that predates Columbus.  While it is almost certain that Nordic adventurers were in North America long before Columbus, how far they got inland is largely unknown - yet assumed to be limited to the Northeast coast.  But Vikings reaching Saint Paul would be quite fantastic.  It should be noted that this area of Minnesota was eventually settled by Scandinavians which seems slightly too coincidental.  

I first read of what is now called the Kensington Runestone in BJ Hollars excellent book Midwestern Strange.  Why BJ Hollars does not have a broader audience I find baffling.  His writing is engaging and Midwestern-sincere.  He doesn't succumb to the allure of pessimism - which is all to easy to do.  Mr. Hollars is one of a couple writers I really like who live in the area, every time I drive anywhere near Western Wisconsin, I always hope I serendipitously meet one of them.  This is vanishingly unlikely and I should be glad about this.  My guess is that neither one of them really wants to meet a chubby dude in the middle of mid-life who happens to like their writing.  Never meet your heroes?  No, never become a hero to anyone.

The Kensington Runestone has, with near-certainty, been deemed a hoax.  But exactly who did this and why is unclear since no one at the time really benefited from it.  I guess much like Mark Landis, some people just can't help themselves.  But I suppose that whether it is a hoax or not matters less than allowing myself to suspend being rational for a brief moment and just let the world be the fantastic place that it wants to be.

The Kensington Runestone now sits in a museum in Alexandria.  I easily found it and paid my entrance fee.  The stone sits prominently at the foyer once inside.  A short video explains the history of the runestone.  It was informative, funny and tragic.  I looked it over the artifact itself and, after having tried to see it previously, it was a little anticlimactic.  Some of the other artifacts seemed more convincing even if the provenance was not as clear?

The rest of the museum was interesting and well-done, if overly Midwestern.  There was bikes, snowmobiles, Indians, WWII, vikings, mastodons, bison and lots and lots of bad taxidermy.  Some of it stunningly bad. This is not fair, since much of it is old taxidermy done in a time when quality forms were not an internet click away.  Taxidermists had to make their own and getting it right was challenging.  Still, by modern sensibility, some of the misshapen beasts were a bit hard to look at.

The story of the dog was touching in light of my current dog situation.  I'll even allow the taxidermy of it wasn't terrible.

The museum was enjoyable even if was not able to solve the mystery of the Kensington Runestone.  Back on the bike I headed south and east.  With temperatures warming slightly and the prevailing wind behind me, it was relatively pleasant.

Questions remained as I rolled along.  The average speed of the Mississippi River runs somewhere between 1.2 and 3 miles-per-hour depending on water level and location.  I would have like to have watched my stick travel the distance.  I did not have time to watch a 3 month game of Poohsticks no matter how riveting it may be.

The Mississippi River is often called the longest river in the United States, but by most definitions it is not.  Almost certainly the Missouri River is longer.  And as the largest feeder into the river that eventually dumps into the Gulf of Mexico near New Orleans, why is the Missouri River not the upper branch Mississippi River?  Which would make the stretch of water between Minnesota and St. Louis something else altogether...

Getting through Minneapolis was again torture as a mix of construction and two accidents meant a couple back-ups.  Once rolling again, I made my way into Wisconsin.  The amount of road kill deer in Wisconsin was staggering.

I got to my sister's house around 6:30 which is a bit late by my normal standards.  We had a chance to talk for a bit and catch up before her SO came home.  A quick meal and it was time to go to bed surrounded by Sis's cats.

The Start of Something Big Day 2 - Rain Make the River

Marquette, IA to Lake George, MN:  437.3 miles

Some of the hotel reviews mentioned train horns all night, and the trains did not disappoint.  They did seem to stop around the time I couldn't sleep anymore.  Suffice to say, it wasn't the best night of sleep I've ever had.  A few cups of hotel coffee could only do so much, even while I really appreciate a coffee maker in the room.

By a little after 6:00 I was bouncing off the hotel room walls ready to go.  There was rain in the area and I thought that if I left a bit early, I could get ahead of it.  I originally was going to hop over to the Wisconsin side of the river, but stayed on the Iowa side and was glad I did as a beautiful sunrise over the Mississippi River pushed me down the road.  The first hour on the road was absolutely magical.

After that, things did go down hill just a bit.  The rain I was trying to get ahead of got ahead of me.  It started with a light spitting but soon enough it became more than that.  When I left, I had put on my rain pants assuming they were probably not needed.  They were.  Around La Crescent, MN, it turned into a full on thunderstorm.  The rain did let up from there, but I remained wet all the way to Minneapolis.

I hadn't seen my cousin Susan in several years and thought it would be fun to visit if she could since I was going to be going through Minneapolis.  Luckily she could make it work, so after hugging the Mississippi River for two half days, I headed to her house.  I got there early, so we had a chance to visit for a while and I was able to meet her SO.  We went to lunch at a café which overlooks the Mississippi River.  Pork Belly was probably not the best choice before a few more hours on the motorcycle, but it was good.  

I was curious what the big orange balls in the river were for?

It was great getting a chance to see her and catch up.  It is too easy to see cousins as frozen in time when we were kids, but life's twists and turns do happen to all of us.

I was originally planning on heading to the Kensington Runestone Museum, but there just wasn't time since it is only open until 4:00.  Not going was probably the right decision since it was a long day as it was.  This is the second time I did not make it to the museum (reason to try again...).

Back on the bike I headed north.  It should have been a really nice ride, but mentally it was brutal.  It was really windy and temperatures were dropping steadily.  It did take longer than it should have to get to Lake George, but it felt twice as long.

Once at the hotel I got some snacks before eating another noodle bowl for dinner.  After being cold on the bike it was nice to crank the heat in the hotel room to cook myself back into warmth.

Visiting My Ancestors Day 3 - Not Ancestors

Luverne, MN to Madison, WI:  390.3 miles

I woke up with a splitting headache - unsure what to do.  Part of me wanted to hit the road, part of me wanted to try to sleep.  Getting up won and I felt a little better after a getting ready.  Rather than try to medicate with caffeine, I decided to hit the road.  Radar showed rain to the east, so I played it safe and just went ahead and put on my rain pants.

I rode the short distance south to I-90 and jumped on the interstate.  It felt like TC Boyle's story After the Plague.  Rarely have I seen an interstate with so few vehicles as this Sunday morning.  I set cruise control and let my mind wander.  And wander it did.  Some of it was big helmet thoughts, much wasn't.  I found myself reliving awkward moments, blunders and mistakes - this was not healthy and I'm not sure where it came from.

My headache ebbed and rose through the day, but I was almost normal by the time I got off the interstate.  I much preferred the 2-lane roads, although it was also a bit painful at times due to big evil camping trailers and slow Sunday drivers.

Rain started around Blue Earth and continued heavily until after Albert Lea.  Then it spit rain on and off for most of the rest of the day.  I was headed to my younger sister's house.  Pre-COVID this wouldn't have been very momentous.  Post-COVID, it did seem like a stage of "back to normal."

I stopped to get fuel right as I got near her house and got some soda at the same time.  A dude walked in jabbering on to no one in particular and saw me standing there in my motorcycle coat and rain pants, "You are WAY overdressed."  

I nodded at him, "Motorcycle."

"Gotcha," he says.

"But I do agree."

I saw him as I was leaving the parking lot and he laughed and gave me a thumbs up.  The world is filled with people who are interesting if we let them be.

I got to my sister's and met her new SO.  We talked for quite a while before heading out to walk the dogs.  We went on part of the Ice Age Trail which was really nice.  At times it did feel like we were in people's back yards or traipsing past the weekend soccer games.  Still, some of the views were surprising so close to Madison.

We had dinner and watched a little TV - I made the mistake of showing my sister David Lynch's What Did Jack Do?  Hopefully she doesn't think too much less of me.

I wasn't too upset when everyone turned in early.  I'm ready for one more day on the road.

Visiting My Ancestors Day 2 - The Visits

Nevada, IA to Luverne, MN:  331.7 miles

Still mostly on Ohio time, I was up too early.  Lynne had left a book of photos including several of our grandparents which I had never seen - or just didn't remember.  Between looking at those and poking around online, the time was not wasted.

We talked a bit more over breakfast; it was great to see Lynne and Dan and they were most gracious to have me over when I know they are really busy.  It was also time to hit the road again.

The morning temperatures were really nice in the 70's and mostly cloudy.  It would have been a nice day to poke along on 2-land roads, but the interstate made more sense.  I headed north toward Minnesota.  Traffic was negligible and with the wind at my back my mileage was fantastic.

My first stop was at my Dad's cousin's house.  I had never met her before, but Sylvia is also somewhat of the family historian.  I found the house easily enough, but I had neglected to call when leaving in the morning - so much for making a good first impression.

Sylvia and Larry where really fun people.  We talked about all the myriad of family members as well as the idiosyncrasies that are who we are.  It was interesting how some of the mannerisms crossed generational boundaries.  We probably could have talked for longer than the two hours I was there, but it was time to move on to head west to where my Dad's family originated in the US.

Heading west on I-90, I stopped at the rest area near Blue Earth.  This was located near where the east and west crews building the interstate met, completing the longest interstate in the country.  

Once near SW Minnesota, I got off the interstate and worked my way toward the first farm.  This was the farm my Great-Grandparents rented lived on between 1904-1909.  The last mile was on a scary loose gravel road which wasn't so great on a fairly heavy bike.  

The farm bears little resemblance of what it looked like back then with many large barns and I think even some hog barns.  But I could imagine my Great-Grandparents mix of nervousness and excitement at starting completely over in a foreign country.

As I was entering in the GPS coordinate for the farm they bought, a man in a side-by-side stopped by to ask if I needed help.  The friendliness of the Midwest did not disappoint.

The drive to the farm took me through the town that used to have the railroad.  The railroad is gone, but I can recall the description of my Great-Grandmother's reaction to seeing Minnesota in April.  Cold, wet and no leaves.

Once again the road to the farm was a loose gravel road, this time with a fairly significant hill.  Thankfully the Trophy handled it well.

I spent a bit of time looking around and taking some pictures before I saw someone on the 5-Acre property that my Dad's cousin had sold off.  I stopped to ask him just to be sure I was at the right farm.  He was a bit of a talker, with a West Virginian drawl that was hard to understand.  He was very friendly, almost too friendly - offering me some stuff he had dug up on the property that he thought may have been my ancestors.  Most of it was junk.  But he did also show me some concrete impressions which I bet were from my second cousins.

The farm land itself was quite pretty.  Rolling hills with a creek at the north end.  Previously it was used for cattle and hogs, but now it was mostly row crops.  Compared to the first rental farm, I could imagine how it must have felt, especially for my Great-Grandfather, to have succeeded in becoming a landowner in just a few years after making the leap to North America.  I didn't expect lightning bolts to shoot out of the ground when I walked on the farm - and they didn't - but being there did make the history more real.

When I had seen the wind turbines on Google Earth before starting the trip, I originally thought it was almost vulgar.  But after being there in person, I changed my mind.  Not only are windmills somewhat iconic Dutch (granted not electric generating turbines but...), but my Great-Grandparents were doing everything they could to make it work - always trying to end the year with more money than they started, so the wind turbines are in a real way just an continuation of that.  And I was glad the my Dad's cousin was deeding the property to his sons so it will stay in the family for at least another generation.

However, standing under the wind turbine was a little intimidating.

I left the farm with a final stop for the afternoon to see the graves of my Great-Grandparents.  I'm not really a stop by the grave kind of person, but it seemed like the right way to end the afternoon.  I found the cemetery easily enough, but it was much bigger than I expected.  I started wandering around looking for the headstone when I saw the groundskeeper mowing.  I started to talk to him before being interrupted by a woman also looking for a few particular graves.  She had a legendary level of talkedness.  The groundskeeper pointed to where the map showing the grave location was and as I left to head that way I found my last name.  

Then things got somewhere between eerie and weird.  There was a raven right by the headstone - probably dying, but who knows.  One can draw all kind of inferences with this kind of thing.  It never moved the whole time I was there.  I left it be, but I'm still pondering the significance (or not) of this.

I drove down to Luverne for the night, getting a hotel with a very similar name to the farm.  After checking in, I called Vern - another of my Dad's cousins.  He stopped by and offered to take me to the farm, but when I told him I had already been there, we headed to dinner instead.  He and his wife Ruth were lots of fun to talk to.  He had lived most of his life outside of the military in the area.  They have children who are nearly my age as well.  After dinner, he took me to another farm that was, and still is, in the extended family.  By this point I was nursing a headache and headed back to the hotel for the night.

It was quite a memorable day.  Meeting my Dad's cousins and hearing a lot about relatives and ancestors.  I learned a lot - and have a lot to think about that debt I owe to my ancestors.