920 Miles Across Minnesota

Story by Sam Marsnik
Photos by Ivy and Sam Marsnik

I was pedaling west on Highway 1 just outside of Ely, MN in search of a place to set up camp and hastily devour another freeze-dried meal. My legs churned the pedals as they had done for the past 6 hours and the sun slowly crept down in front of me. With each pedal stroke the typical late-afternoon hunger pang grew and my stomach growled like an angry beast. Suddenly, a red pickup rolled up next to me from behind and matched my speed. The window rolled down and I saw and the friendly face of a fellow cyclist I had briefly met 50 miles ago. An extraordinary smell wafted out of the pickup in my direction and I spied a familiar-looking cardboard box. “You look like you could use some pizza,” he said. It was impossible to escape the kindness of strangers on this bike trip. It had started as just a bucket list adventure but in the end it restored my faith in humanity.

A five-minute Zoom meeting in June of 2020 had left me without a job and tossed me into a worsening spiral of worries, the least of which was actually getting infected with COVID-19. Over time, the daily onslaught of bad news, paired with my bleak employment outlook was taking its toll on me. I needed something to get me back in a good headspace and I wasn’t about to waste a perfectly good summer feeling sorry for myself and wondering why this had to happen to me. I decided to go on that long-distanced bike trip I had always dreamt of, but never did. Given the current circumstances, none of my previous excuses held any water. If I was ever going to do it, now had to be the time. After a couple of months of training and planning I was ready. On August 23rd, 2020 I left on a 920-mile bike trip that took me zigzagging across Minnesota for more than two weeks.

The trip started out with a bang, literally. When my wife, Ivy, was taking the ceremonial photo early the first day, the weight of my gear overpowered the kickstand and my bike crashed to the ground.  After a successful second attempt, my heart started racing. The adventure was finally here, right in front of me. The morning fog was thick as I rolled out but it didn’t last. Much like the fog, the more I pedaled and the further I went, the worries that had plagued me earlier in the summer began to dissipate and become a thing of the past.

The blue skies of that first day were part of a pedaling appetizer of 60 miles in northwest Wisconsin before I crossed into Duluth. I then followed the North Shore from Duluth to the Canadian border using the Gitchi-Gami trail when I could. The Gitchi-Gami, with its spectacular cliffs overlooking the crystal blue Lake Superior water was undoubtedly one of the highlights of the trip. The area around Grand Portage was another highlight, with its beautiful mountainous falls. Getting there was a real challenge for a biker carrying 60 pounds. From the North Shore I crossed through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCAW) on my way to Ely. Although the terrain was at times challenging, the peace and solitude accompanied by the pristine, natural backdrop is something everyone should experience. The Mesabi Trail took me through the Iron Range all the way down to Grand Rapids. It was my first time on the Mesabi Trail and it did not disappoint. The quality of the trail itself and the quaint northern Minnesota towns along the trail made for a great leg of my journey.  From Grand Rapids I rode Highway 2 to Bemidji where I connected with the Paul Bunyan Trail. The 120-mile ride to Brainerd was a breeze and I stopped along the way to pay a short visit to the great Paul Bunyan statue in Akeley and Paul’s sweetheart, Lucette, in Hackensack. Lastly, from Brainerd I made my way across lake country and finished on the beautiful Willard Munger trail from Hinckley to Duluth.

The 920 miles I pedaled covered some of the most beautiful bike trails and landscapes Minnesota has to offer, but if it hadn’t been for the kindness of strangers I encountered on the trip, I might not have made it to the finish line. One example is the man in the truck handing me a slice of delicious wood fired pizza, but it didn’t stop there. When campgrounds were full, people offered to share their site. When bike troubles came my way, mechanics at bike shops dropped everything-during an exceptionally busy time-to make sure I could get back on the road. In a place I am now referring to as “Finlandia”, a couple miles south of Finland, MN, a random woman offered to let me camp on her vacant property when she saw me exhausted on the side of the road.  It was an overgrown lot with an old dirt floor barn structure, but in that moment it might as well have been a five-star hotel. As much as my body appreciated a professionally tuned bicycle, the solace of a safe place to sleep and a well-timed slice of delicious pizza, was what really hit home during these moments was something much deeper in my soul.

2020 began with unprecedented worldwide turmoil. I often found myself wondering if the world had gone crazy. Was there any decency left to carry humanity forward? After pedaling over 900 miles across the state, I found the answer in the many examples of generosity I encountered. Yes, people are good and there’s a way forward for us after all.