On the way to Theodore National Roosevelt National Park I make a few stops – the drive is too long for one day and I don’t want to spend more than four hours on the road a day to get a better flavour for the Northern States, keep my neck from stiffening and manage my sanity.
My first stop is Ely (Ee-lee.) The town is outfitted with outfitters and many of the cars that drive through the town have kayaks or canoes, ready to enter the Boundary Waters. It’s nice to meander, peek into the galleries and boutiques, chill with a beer or a coffee. The town, like most in the Iron Range, was first built to support miners and their families, but with mining not being so lucrative anymore, the towns resort to keeping their cities alive with tourists – they do a good job, too.
On a last minute recommendation, I stop to explore the Soudan Underground Mine not to far West of Ely. The mine is often referred to, by my 6’8″ tour guide, as the catalyst of mines, mining iron ore from 1892 to 1982, where deposits of 90% pure iron ore can still be found. The mine shut down because it became to expensive to mine the ore (it’s much cheaper to mine taconite although it is not nearly as pure) and US Steel donated the mine and it has become a 
State Park – lucky for us, because now we get to ride the cage (elevator) down the the 27th level, ½ mile underground. Super cool.
The cage rides along a 78 angle, rattles and takes about 3 minutes to get to the 
lowest level. The operator of the cage sits in another room, and to communicate with the guides, they buzz, a type of morse code, to let the cage operator know to start the engines. Unlike the ride of the miners, your cage will have doors, a small light and there will only be 10, not 18 of you, in the cage. The mine, on the 27th level, stays at a constant 52F, refreshing in the summer, warm in the winter. Once at the bottom, you settle yourself in carriage train and enjoy a ¾ mile ride through the mine tunnels, the fun part of the tour. The cold air cools your face, and all the while you know you are so far underground, safe because of the strudy Jasper rock through which the tunnels are built.
You get to wander in one of the caverns (that’s not what they’re really called – I’m forgetting the name used by the tour guide) and by far the best part of the tour is when the guide turns off all the lights and you stand there, in a silent, fresh darkness, not seeing a thing…nothing at all like the experience of the miners who might have had candles and had the constant the sound of the drills and explosives banging against their ear drums. The lights are off for a very short while until the tour guide lights a candle, and you feel pretty lucky to have electricity.
As I leave Soudan the weather turns. It starts to rain and my destination is in the direction of dark, low hanging clouds. It does not disperse in the strong wind. I pass the Grand Rapids area whose downtown looks like it may be worth a walk, but the rain is heavy and I have another 100km to get to Chippewa forest where I want to camp – another decision made because friends told me that visiting the source of the Mississippi would be fun (and since I’ve already, on another trip, visited the mouth of the river, this would round things off nicely.) So on I drive. And aside from a Christian Rock radio station, there is only an NPR station whose broadcasts are constantly being interrupted by special bulletins – flash floods and tornado warnings. Eventually even regular programming turns into a storm watch, that is then interrupted by special bulletins. The broadcasters are naming off cities and counties, advising people to go to their basements to hide in bathtubs, and not being familiar with the geography of Minnesota, I have no idea if I am heading for or away from the storms – so I stop and peruse the map. The main storm is about 200km SE of me, although I am still driving through strong wind and heavy rain. Should I really be looking for a campground?
I arrive at Cass Lake Campground and I have to drive through the park carefully – trees that have fallen (hours or minutes ago?) lost branches that are strewn across the narrow road. I have to admit, I am a little anxious. I drive around the campsite and note that many of the campsites should have been occupied, but stand empty. People have packed up and left early. What do they understand about these severe weather warnings and their locations? Staying in the car, I again consult the map and listen to the bulletins. There Is lighting, thunder and rain, but I also fInd a campground on the lake for $21…at a campground with showers! Winner.
I stay in the car and wait for the rain to stop. When it lets up a bit, I set up my tent, carrying out all kinds of manoeuvres to ensure that the tent does not get wet. I crawl under the rainfly. It’s finicky business. I get a little damp, but the tent is dry. Then the rain gets heavy again, the wind picks up, and I retreat to the car, thinking I may perhaps have to sleep here. While I continue to listen to the weather reports, I enjoy a delectable meal – nuts, Twiglets, a delicious cherry yogurt, and beer to wash it all down. I get comfortable, turn my flashlight on and read. The inside of the car steams up, but the pitter-patter of the rain on the car is soothing – the perfect accompaniment to reading.
Around 9 pm the rain abates. The sun’s setting red rays show themselves between the horizon and the retreating storm. I relocate to my tent and sleep. There must be a game on because my campground neighbours open their camper doors and I fall asleep to their whooping and cheering.
I wake up to a clear blue sky, and the lake so still it looks like a mirror, a lone loon on the lake. I make porridge with blueberries, hot coffee, pack my tent and set off to Bemidji to learn about Paul Bunyan.
Paul Bunyan – An American folklore about a giant lumberjack and Babe, his blue ox.
I also stop at Itasca State Park where I hike along Lake Itasca, walk across the headwaters of the Mississippi River and make a lovely lunch on the lake front.
At a rest stop I pick up a newsletter from Dorest – on the cover is Dorset’s smiling mayor, the 4 year old James Tufts. Yes, he is 4 years old and mayor. Previous to his taking office, his brother (a few years older) held the post. Mr. Tufts has been urged to run for President. Look it up 🙂
I’ve seen this kid on TV, and can’t resist a stop to the town that I am so close to. I happen to arrive on Dorset’s first ever ‘Crazy Days’ – a day when all the shops have sidewalk sales. It’s a typical town – a short strip of highway that turns into a main street, home to a cafe, a general store, a few boutiques, an ice cream parlour and a few other shops. I don’t have time to stay long before I have to drive and find another campground before it gets too late. I don’t spot the mayor anywhere – perhaps it is nap time.
Nap time, haha!