CnC: Lakes and Where They Come From

We departed Bemidji, discovering that this town claims to be the "home" of Paul Bunyon and his Ox, Babe. Why not.

Instead of following the usual four-lane south-east to Duluth, we took the less-travelled road south for a while than east. It was a little longer, 18 miles or so, but much more relaxing. Also very picturesque. Minnesota is billed as the land of 10,000 lakes and we believe them. We also now know where those lakes come from. The skies.

It wasn't too bad to start with as when we turned east we were following a small storm. Only problem was it was a bit slow so when our windscreens started to spot, we stopped in a small town and had a coffee and cinnamon bun. Well, I had the cinnamon bun, the others aren't so adventurous. And believe me, ordering a cinnamon bun in America is fraught with peril, but I can handle it.

Off we went again only to discover the storm had slowed down - and in the process built in intensity. We put on the wets.

We found the Honda dealer on the western side of Duluth and picked up my new reservior bottle. The old one had been leaking for several days now, the fix starting to give way. The proprietor assured us the approaching black skies would amount to nothing as the air would soon meet the uplifting air from Lake Superior - just over the hill - and peter out. We kept the wets on. Only I wasn't wearing the pants part over my jeans. It was only light stuff and we had that reassurance.

We made it in to Duluth and had to avoid a traffic accident then went up to a lookout hill from where we could see lake Superior stretching off into the distance, as well as the many bridges over the St Louis River and the extensive shipping port, touted as the most inland sea-port in the world, being over 2000 miles from the Atlantic by water.

Then it was travel south-west to Cloquet for the nearest KOA. That's when the storm hit us. We were on a freeway, there was roadworks then some kind of police emergency that resulted in lots of police cars and all traffic being diverted off the freeway and teaming rain with a little hail mixed in. Lovely. Remember I hadn't bothered with the wet pants? Sheesh.

So we pulled up under an overhead bridge, between two police cars, and I completed the dressing proceedure. You all know how finicky wets are at the best of times. Everything got caught up everywhere. Some truckie decided to take a good look at us and ignored the car stopping in front until very late resulting in a noisy brake lockup. Not a worry though, those deputies weren't getting out of their cars in this rain and hail.

Finally properly attired (except where I hadn't pulled the jacket back down enough) we launched back into the elements and followed the traffic off the freeway (with Charleen tugging at my jacket to try to pull it down) and out of the storm.

Jack noticed a motel and we pulled in only a mile or so short of our intended camping site. Good Idea. Camping might not be a good idea this afternoon. Also I need a good surface to be able to lie under the bike and replace the bottle.

The rain stopped. Sun came out. Car park dried up. Jack set up his deckchairs and with chippies and beer settled in to watch the fun of me struggling to make the repair.

Turns out changing the radiator reservoir bottle is really easy. One bolt, wriggle it out, change over the fittings, wriggle the new one back in and do up the bolt. Took ten minutes. Jack felt cheated and wanted his money back.

So with such a lovely afternoon ahead of us and two excellent bikes in the car park, we went for a scenic ride. We did a 30 or so mile circuit and got back just as the next storm started to break over us. Nicely timed.

Next door to our motel was a steakhouse where we had a great meal before retiring for the night.

Here some piccies.