Our first morning in Staples, we rode the Legacy Trail, which follows the west side of town from near our motel to Legacy Gardens, a short ride of 12.3 km, but plenty long enough to be attacked by hordes of mosquitoes whenever we stopped. We stopped in the downtown at Stomping Grounds coffee, then cleaned up and went to Baxter, for a little shopping–used books, more coffee (Starbucks!), and to check out the town of Brainerd, across the Mississippi River.
Brainerd
Driving by a bike shop in Brainerd, we noticed an ELF, an enclosed electric-assist tricycle, parked outside. The owner, a woman about our age, was on a two-year exploration of the upper mid-West and had stopped to get a tune-up. What a neat idea–the machine is heavy, so electric assist is necessary, and the company does make a two-seat version, but the back seat is for a passenger, without any power input, and the payload is 160kg, limiting the machine to two skinnier people and no baggage onboard.
An ELF, on extended tour…
On our second day, we set out for the trailhead for the Paul Bunyan Trail, following signs off Highway 371 just north of Highway 210. However, the road was closed for reconstruction, and the detour signs were cryptic and misleading. Finally, we found the path through the construction zone to the Arboretum parking lot, which was also the trailhead.
Paul Bunyan Trail
We headed north to Merrifield through a pine forest on a nearly level railbed, meeting a number of cyclists and runners along the way, and a very large turtle. On our return, we stretched the ride to make exactly 30km, about the limit for saddle time and power output for our current state of training. Lunch at Starbucks and back to Staples to change clothes for our late afternoon appointment.
Turtles seem to like the warmth of the paved trail for their burrows.
We met my cousin in Motley, where our mutual great grandparents are buried, and visited the family plot. We also visited my grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s gravesites nearby, Then, we drove north between Motley and Pillager to where the Pietz brothers had their farms. None of the original buildings has survived, but we stopped near where great-grandfather Adolph had his farm and where I remember visiting in the 1940s and early 1950s (he passed away in 1953).
family plot, in Motley
On the third day, we left Staples and drove back to Baxter, then north to Bemidji for lunch, passing Cass Lake on the way. Cass Lake is the eastern end of the Heartland Trail and Bemidji is the northern end of the Paul Bunyan Trail. We drove southwest in rain to Park Rapids, the western end of the Heartland Trail, where we will be based for the next couple of days.
Paul Bunyan and Babe, the Blue Ox, characters from folk tales of early logging, and a waterfront fixture in Bemidji since 1937.
Wednesday, we broke camp early, with a bit of dew still on the tent fly, and headed for town: the pastry shop, closed Monday/Tuesday, was open, with the sticky buns worth the wait. Then, off to check out the Amish country around Harmony, near the Iowa border. We saw one buggy on the way in to town, but the town wasn’t much–a few furniture outlets on the edge of town, yet another small midwest town.
Minnesota River Valley and New Ulm
So, we headed north, hoping to find espresso in Rochester. The GPS took us downtown to a Starbucks, across the street from the main entrance to the world-famous Mayo Clinic, with no parking for blocks, so we ended up at a Caribou Coffee out in the ‘burbs: no joy here for Judy’s wifi-cranky iPad, so westward ho toward Mankato for lunch out of the grocery bag in front of a HyVee grocery, a midwest chain we had first discovered in Iowa. On the way, we followed the GPS, which directed us to a torn-up and closed county road, totally missing the fact that MN 14 had been rerouted as a freeway. After wandering gravel roads for nearly an hour, running into dead ends and coming back to the missing highway at several points, we finally arrived at an overpass over the new freeway and spotted an interchange only a short way behind us. The GPS kept guessing which dirt lane we were on, while zooming toward Mankato on the new freeway.
The growth in the Midwest is astounding, as if the recession never happened. Huge swaths of former marsh, woodland, and farmland are being transformed into freeways, industrial parks, shopping centers, and residential complexes. We bypassed the old river city of Mankato entirely, then across the prairie and back down into the Minnesota River Valley to New Ulm, which we had passed through last week.
Judy, barely visible, in red, retreating down the open spiral staircase to the top of the monument.
This time, we stopped long enough to climb to the top of the Herrmann Monument, which celebrates the 9th-century victory over the Roman Empire that created the 1000-year German state, broken briefly after the fall of Hitler’s 3rd Reich by the Iron Curtain division of Germany into two countries. The ultimate downfall that precipitated Hitler’s violent attempt to establish another 1000-year hegemony was engendered by the Prussian expansionism that gave rise to the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s and the Great War of 1914-1918. The latter resulting in the economic destruction of Germany on the eve of the world-wide depression of the 1920s and 1930s.
Looking up from the base of the Herrmann statue, on a very small walkway.
European instability during the latter third of the 19th century prompted many Germans to emigrate to the United States, with New Ulm as the center of German culture in central Minnesota. This cultural connection was strong enough to resist the suppression of Germanic influence during the 1914-1918 war, when German language and customs disappeared from daily life in less homogeneous towns and cities across America.
Judy, taking in the view from the shade of the monument.
We stopped behind the public library to plan our next leg, and were engaged in conversation by a J. Hesse, local resident who was attracted to our Bike Friday tandem mounted on our rather brightly colored Jeep. It is difficult for us to tour unobtrusively with such distinctive livery. But, then, Midwesterners are a friendly and curious bunch: we have had more casual conversations with strangers here than anywhere else we’ve been.
Martin Luther College, New Ulm, MN
In between stories, we managed to find affordable lodging ahead, hopefully on the edge of the coming storm that would bring torrential rains to most of southern Minnesota. Litchfield became our goal for the evening, a town of no particular significance other than travel economy. We checked in, walked next door to an all-day breakfast café, and retired, as the rain began.
In the morning, we headed west, in light rain, to check out Spicer and Green Lake, where we used to meet periodically for reunions of my grandmother’s and great uncle’s families, until my grandmother’s passing in the mid-1960s. Road work once again sent us off-course onto quiet country roads, and foiled our plan to circumnavigate Green Lake. The once-quiet country lake is now completely ringed with expensive homes, and the road was closed on the north side of the lake for repairs. We pressed on toward St. Cloud and Rice, where Judy’s mother was born, in hopes of locating any of her distant relatives in the local cemeteries. The GPS was again of little use on the way, as the roads had been moved and businesses in small towns are too ephemeral to persist long enough for the relatively static databases shipped with GPS units to find them. Rice was once again a lost quest: we had searched briefly in 2000, the last time we had been through this part of Minnesota, and a more thorough search of several cemeteries in the area did not turn up any familiar names. Half-remembered facts we thought we heard when we were children don’t always translate to actual places when we go to look for them, 60 years later.
Although the inclement weather had not reached this far north, most of the fabled 10,000 lakes (actually, once counted at nearly 30,000) are concentrated in northern Minnesota, and the recent late spring rains and heat had hatched out the first wave of mosquitoes, making camping less desirable. Also, the start of the short summer vacation and weekend water play season meant crowded camps and full motels, with high-season pricing. Our search for affordable lodging led us somewhat off our target zone of the major bike trails–Heartland and Paul Bunyan, Trails–so we ended up at Staples, an Amtrak whistle stop 50 km west of the PBT. Our frequent-traveler plan points had accumulated enough to get us a deep discount on motel rooms, at not much more than campground rates, without the mosquito battle, so we are done camping for a while, at least until we head west next week. Meanwhile, we plan to get in some more bicycling and also hunt down my ancestral home and place names, with the help of my second cousin, whose family remained in the area.
The reunion continues, with the descendants of Adolph Pietz meeting for brunch in Lakefield, MN.
Sunday, first and second cousins met at the Hi-Lo club in Lakefield for brunch. Dennis and Karen joined those of us who had been at the larger event on Saturday. Cathy’s daughter and mom joined us also. Jo Strube is in her 90s and still very active. All too soon, it was time to go our separate ways.
Historic Lanesboro.
We stayed in Jackson overnight, then set out after breakfast for Lanesboro, in the southeastern corner of the state, the heart of the Root River country, a picturesque valley surrounded by bluffs in the tri-state Driftless area. After lunch at the Pedal Pushers Cafe, we set up camp at the Eagle Cliff Campground, on a bend in the river downstream from Lanesboro, near the tiny village of Whalan.
The tiny village of Whalan, a trailhead on the bike trail and home to several resorts.
Later in the afternoon, we set off on the bike to Whalan, then up the Root River Trail to Lanesboro, where we found that the trail was closed for maintenance between Whalan and Peterson, the next village downriver.
Our camp, seen from the bike trail across the river.
The day was hot, but we had some shade on the trail. After a day of driving and a 21.3km bike ride, we had no problem turning in early, falling asleep to the babble of the river over the rocks below our campsite.
The dam on the South Branch Reed River in Lanesboroo
The next morning, we set off in the car in search of breakfast, ending up in the town of Preston, up the South Branch from Lanesboro. We got the impression that the small towns along the river endure the tourists who come to ride the trails or float the river, but would just as soon keep this beautiful area to themselves if they could make a living without the tourists.
Camping at the downriver end of the trail segment makes the return trip easier (and fast)
Back in camp, we set out on another ride, this time heading east to see how far the trail went before the closure: not far from where we turned around the day before, so we rode the same route again, back to Lanesboro, but a bit past the town for a view of the dam on the river, for a 24km ride. Unfortunately, our ride turned out to be in the heat of the day. A bit later, we hopped in the car for an air-conditioned quick tour of the lower river valley, visiting Houston, Rushford, and Peterson. We decided we had ridden the most scenic part of the trail, twice. We turned in early again, to rest up for the next leg of our road trip.
No Wi-Fi or electricity in camp, but an opportunity to upload photos, video, and GPS tracks to the laptop and recharge devices with the solar battery.
Main Street, Jackson, MN, from the bike cam, headed for Coffee Choices, on right.
Saturday–the big day for family get-together with the descendants of the Pietz family that emigrated from Prussia in 1870. In the morning, we set up our bicycle and rode the Jackson Loop trail, riding down to Ashley Park from our B&B, then anti-clockwise on the loop that took us west up onto the prairie, where we fought stiff headwinds before turning on the old US 16 back toward town, a steep, fast downhill. Back in town, the trail circled around the old football field, through the space where the power plant used to be. When we first moved back to town in 1949, my dad was a boiler engineer at the power plant, which had been converted from water power to gas. A few years ago, the dam was removed, and replaced with a series of weirs to keep the river at nearly the old pool level. The old “Bayou” above the Ashley Street bridge was lower, but still a pond connected to the river, now part of the park and trail that loops around the three bridges that connect the town’s two halves.
In the afternoon, the Pietz’s began to gather at Ashley Park, mostly descendants of Daniel and Ernst; most of the Ernst clan were from nearby, but the larger group of us descended from Daniel (he and Minnie had five sons) came from all over Minnesota, and some from Wisconsin, Iowa, Idaho, Oregon, California, and Washington.
Monette, Mary, and Cathy.
For the record, my lineage is Daniel (Minnie Megdanz) -> Adolph (Laura Rix) -> Ella (Grant Goplen) -> Hilda (Donald Parkins). My closest cousins present were: from Ella and Grant -> Floyd, Monette and Mary; from Ella and William Strube -> Norman, Cathy; and from great-uncle Alfred (Clara Anderson) -> Vivian, Marilyn.
By all accounts, the gathering was a success. Several of the family had compiled extensive genealogy records and there were several photo collections dating back to the 19th century.
2d cousin Marilyn, at far end of the table on left. Red shirts were descendants of Daniel, Blue shirts descendants of Ernst.
Despite many of us travelling hundreds or thousands of miles to the event, there was plenty of food at the traditional mid-western potluck (derived from the Salish Potlatch, gatherings where successful tribesmen shared their good fortune). As a vegetarian, I am always astounded by the clever ways in which Midwesterners hide meat in what look to be vegetable dishes, but we had brought hummus, cheese, and nuts, so I didn’t starve or have to subsist on sweet desserts.
We found we had distant relatives (3rd cousins) in Washington and Idaho, and 4th cousins in Lakefield, near Jackson. The Pietz name was still common, passed down through sons. The youngest present carrying the Pietz name were under 10. Most of us were of retirement age, the younger generations not yet able or willing to devote vacation time and travel to seek out obscure family connections. The Internet brought us together, ultimately, but face-to-face contact with distant family brings out the inherited family traits and mannerisms that we miss in photos and dry genealogical postings.
Dayton, Monette’s husband, chats with one of our more distant cousins.
We spent some time getting to know other folks, but were eager to reconnect with closer relatives, with whom we make frequent contact through Facebook and email. However, we have a Sunday brunch planned for the descendants of Adolph, so will have more time for that, later.
The early buildings moved to Fort Belmont as a museum, with the townsite in the distance.
Since we arrived a day early, we had time in the morning to explore. We toured the Fort Belmont replica a few years ago when we were here, but decided to spend a bit more time. The displays haven’t changed much, but we enjoyed revisiting the pioneer artifacts. The grounds has an early settler home that evolved from a one-room house, rooms added as they had money and time, often after the children had grown. The exhibits include an intact country church, a scale replica mill, blacksmith shop, sod house, and a log cabin, in addition to the “Fort” part, a tower and palisade for defense against the indigenous people who resented the European invasion.
Replica; territorial fort.
Of course, we had to visit the coffee shop downtown, a crowded gathering place on a Friday morning, full of friendly people and serving great coffee and pastries. Several of the old stores have been converted into second-hand consignment shops, such as Chosen’s Clothing and the Ben Franklin. Unlike some towns, Jackson has not emptied out into a strip mall and Wal-Mart at the edge of town: the freeway arrived early, making larger retail centers like Mankato and Sioux Falls close enough for weekend shopping trips. Stores selling items needed day-to-day continued to thrive, while furniture and clothing outlets disappeared.
;Two-harness loom, ca. 1860. The block sheaves were set up for a 4-shaft counterbalance, but this one only ever had two.
One of the fascinations of the Fort Belmont museum, of course, were the various looms used by the pioneers, ranging from a fairly modern 4-shaft counterbalance to a large pin loom for weaving small rugs, and the large 2-shaft rug loom shown above. We don’t consider hand-weaving to be a lost art, but we noted that the curators of the museum misidentified some of the tools, guessing at their possible use. None of the looms had been restored to working order, either–most of the artifacts were left “as found” to preserve as much authenticity as possible–restoration requires knowledge, the right materials, and time. we did enjoy the “hands-on” replica hand-made toys and games in the main exhibit hall, however.
Finally, we checked into the B&B and then checked out the park where our family gathering will take place, making a meal of odds and ends of crumbs in our travel stores, and then turned in early to rest up for the weekend activities.
