The long way away, by bike

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So where does one begin! Right here:


So after a few weeks of fund raising and food stands the time had come to leave Iowa to seek the northern bike trail. Natan drove me up to Iowa City where I spent the day lazying around until the Griffin sibling trio were all ready for me to board their ship(a jazzy corolla) for our destination Underwood, Minnesota. We left at sunset.

*BOOM* 4:45 AM next morning as early twilight begins to saunter in. North Central Minnesota's exciting nightline has all but passed us. Along the way a new copy of the new Harry Potter in a new Super Wal-Mart open for the new midnight was retrieved for our driver, Tiffany. I was not allowed to touch the new crisp pages. As I write this, she has already finished it 2 times through.
So we pulled in to Underwood, where the grandfather of the trio resides and has for some time in an old hotel now, his house and office. Roger, 83 years old, took part in his 18th annual bike ride of the MS Tram which we all joined him for, and likely his final ride he plans to do.

Within 15 minutes we were all inside in our respective rooms(quite many there were) and I bounding with energy crept to my bicycle for my virgin Minnesotan ride. Make that 21.6 miles north to my long-time-no-see Japanese immersion camp, Mori no Ike. I was treated along the way to a sunrise and the usual passing of pick-up trucks along the well-endowed lake road.
Arriving at the camp was a bit nerve-racking as before I even reached the entrance I saw a million kids and a bus or two. I knew I was not supposed to be there. I passed by with little notice on to the office to find no one. I returned to the million kids to find out the session was over and homeward bound was their course. I mozied back over to the office to find my original Level 1 Japanese Teacher. A humbling American fellow who I really always felt was one of the few really helpful people at the camp: Ryumma-sensei.
Funnily enough, and fortunately so, Ryumma had become Dean of the camp for the first session. My fears were alleviated to find out there was no hardcore Dean there to kick me out but instead my teacher who barely remembered me until we found pictures of me on his computer afterwards.
I spoke with him and other staff for sometime, joined breakfast with the remaining students, and got to take part that morning in what was just another day at camp for me had I been enrolled there once more. It felt great! The day passed very slowly and nicely as I helped clean up the camp, as all staff was leaving to be replaced by the 2nd session staff and within a few day students.
That evening, Roger who I hadn't met yet, his sister Dorothy, and the trio came to pick me up and we returned to go pack the van to carry our bikes for the next day. Back in Underwood, all was quiet, I expected, but indeed there was a outdoor benefit concert to support the local troops returning from Iraq which included a South Dakota country band, beer, and many biker types. All across the street from Roger's. I danced my fair share and afterwards during a music break was able to run home and fall asleep before they started blasting more stimulating songs about cowboys and boot straps.

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5AM AGAIN! I wake to Roger zipping around the house preparing himself to go. I was quite out of it, but how else should I be? 9 Hours of sleep in 48 hours will still never be enough for anyone.
We all ate a bit, though my memory fails me at this point completely. I do remember getting in the van, which is an old long Econoline Chevy or something of the sort. No seats in the back but some soft cushion lounge chairs which I deftly laid upon and slept all the way to Alexandria. The 5 bikes quietly watching over me the whole way in the van as well.




*I will finish this later on, with some photos, and etc.
-Gotta get home first,

Davey in Underwood

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