Week 37 - Minnesota Nice
Fortunately, Josh really dialed in to tell the story last week of what some of our driving days may look like. This past week, we had to conquer the longest driving stretch we have accomplished thus far. According to Google Maps, it was a 1,000-mile drive that they predicted would take us 16 hours by car. I would like to acquaint you with the reality of what that truly means. For starters, take most hour estimates by GPS and multiply them by 1.5 because our speed just never allows for accurate estimations. So, now we are looking at a 24-hour drive. Keep in mind that we don't drive at night typically, so in the best-case scenario, this will be accomplished in two days of driving. But you can't overlook general curiosities and getting stuck in conversations with strangers while traveling on the road, so add some time for that.
Montana has one of the most extensive skatepark systems in the United States. The main reason is Jeff Ament, one of the founding members of the band Pearl Jam, who is a Montana native and wants to use his influence to bring recreation to the far corners of his home state. Driving along the Montana plains, even in farm country, you'll encounter excellent parks tucked into Native American reservations and small towns. So, add more time for taking advantage of these to break up our driving across the big ol' state of Montana. Unfortunately, North Dakota didn't offer the same skate park oasis’, so we gripped the steering wheel and churned our way across the whole thing, only stopping to rest for a night. In the end, this drive took us around three days.
Once we crossed through North Dakota, we entered the land of 10,000 lakes: Minnesota. Way back in Arizona, we had made friends with another Skoolie couple, Meg and Tim. They insisted that we stop by once we reached their home region. So, we pulled into Pelican Rapids, which was our first exposure to the many small lake communities that sprawl throughout Minnesota. Pretty quickly, we ended up on a pontoon ride with their family. This reunion with our old road friends was a warm welcome to the state. Meg, Tim, and their family were also our first introduction to a concept called "Minnesota Nice," which I'll explain further later on.
Bun-less burgers on Pontoons hit a certain spot.
I'd like to share with you the origin story of this weeks work. As we changed our region, we found ourselves with few community connections to continue our usual community leapfrog that we so love. Without much direction, we were open to wherever we might end up. While in Pelican Rapids, we stopped for a nice ice cream cone at a local shop. While speaking with the server, Abby, she told us about her college town, Bemidji. It had a fun name and we had never heard of it, so we decided to give it a go. The next day, we drove an hour and a half north to see what Bemidji had to offer.
Our first stop in town was at a restaurant named "Minnesota Nice." We were greeted by a kind server named Annie, who was pleasantly curious about our endeavors. She recommended we try their regional wild rice, a local commodity found in the area, which is still mandated to be harvested only by canoe. While she didn't have many recommendations for volunteering, she introduced us to a deacon from her church who was sitting at a nearby table. This was perfect! Unfortunately, they didn't have any identified needs that we could help with.
Rice in a pancake? Pretty Good Actually
After lunch, we decided to attend an event at the city municipal buildings that we had seen while driving through town. Luckily, it turned out to be a community gathering of people from local businesses and such. However, it seemed that this expo was only intended for city employees, so our presence felt a little awkward. Nevertheless, we pushed through and met many kind Minnesota people. They served us up a ton of ideas for their city, and our enthusiasm was through the roof. Connecting to Bemidji was working out perfectly. We began exploring those rabbit holes, making calls, sending texts, and conducting more research on organizations. Yet, once again, nothing seemed to pan out. Calls went unanswered, or the timing wasn't right. Dead ends. We started feeling discouraged and considered moving on to another community.
We had one more lead to pursue. The local Habitat for Humanity was closed due to a lack of volunteers. After trying to reach them on Facebook and over the phone without luck, we decided to swing by the ReStore. Indeed, we found a closed Habitat for Humanity office. But right next door, to our surprise, we discovered an OPEN food shelf that hadn't been mentioned by anybody! The executive director, Mike, was inside, almost waiting for a group of volunteers like us to walk in. Meeting him didn't faze him in the slightest, which isn’t typical as people often get confused by the three guys and a bus thing. Immediately, he brought us over to his high tunnels (greenhouses) where he had a full kit of roll-up doors that needed to be installed. He had all the parts and instructions; he just needed someone to do it. Finally, after a long day of feeling burnt out by dead ends, we found this silver platter of need that seemed to be a perfect fit for us to aid.
Started with putting in a nice set of field goal posts.
Rolled Up!
Take it down!
Mike and his food shelf were the perfect hosts, and we spent the next two days working with him and his staff. Side by side, we puzzled over this tunnel door together. Mike went beyond to welcome us in his life by enjoying local Mississippi jazz together, which was fitting since Bemidji is close to the headwaters of the Mississippi River. Mike even hosted us at his home with his dear friends, Betsy and Howie who were all perfect examples of the Minnesota Nice.
All Matching Very Nicely
Finally at rest in our perfect fit for the week, we could enjoy Bemidji and its people. "Minnesota Nice," a concept that reflects a degree of genuine hospitality existing in Minnesotans, was continually proving itself true in our interactions. People would just start talking to you about whatever, without even exchanging names at first. Engaging in conversation was the primary goal, and if you learned each other's names, that was just a bonus. I figure Minnesota Nice emerges in the summers because, after a winter of mostly staying indoors with negative temperatures, summertime provides an opportunity for Minnesotans to show some skin and catch up on the conversations they miss during winter. Or maybe it was because the bugs were so bad that people talked to distract themselves. I really believe that Minnesotans even rival our southern charm, although there is always a cutoff point. I was chatting with someone who was a Minnesota transplant, and when I asked their thoughts on Minnesota Nice, they responded that while people are nice on the surface, there is a saying that they'll give you directions to everywhere but their house. Which I didn’t find true, because Mike and his friends all gave us their address’, maybe we are an exception. Apart from talking, there was one other thing every Minnesotan had in common—their affection for a vegetable crop called rhubarb, which I had never heard of.
Before arriving in Bemidji, we had made plans to head down to Duluth on Saturday to help with a festival supporting a local homeless shelter. This festival, known as the Rhubarb Festival, revolved entirely around the beloved crop—rhubarb, which is kind of like a tangy celery. However, I would like to describe my experience. In the land of 10,000 lakes, they have one major challenge—the mosquitoes, which are ferocious. They occasionally find their way into the bus, so the night before leaving Bemidji for Duluth, I didn't get much sleep. While traveling to Duluth, I took the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. Napping for most of the way there, I woke up feeling a bit disoriented. I immediately got thrown into serving rhubarb pies to strangers. Everyone around me was also serving dishes containing rhubarb—rhubarb crisps, rhubarb ice cream, rhubarb lemonade, gluten-free rhubarb muffins. As I listened to this harmonious repetition of people enthusiastically offering rhubarb to others, while feeling a bit drowsy, I had to ponder whether I was in a dream or not. People loved the pie I was serving, but I remained honest and did not take credit for baking it.
Rhubarb Festival!
Following this introductory week in the Land of Lakes, we left Duluth and headed up the coast of Lake Superior, where the bugs have progressively worsened, along with our internet connection. I apologize for the late arrival of this week's blog, but you will soon be caught up on our experiences as to why our internet has been non-existent.