It was drizzling lightly this next morning, but the cycle to Red Wing turned out OK. It was cold, would you believe, but atmospheric. Tree-covered bluffs disappearing into grey, rain-saturated clouds, and the smell of wood smoke drifting up from a trailer park campsite down by the riverbank, between the railway and the road. The river is sometimes wide, sometimes narrow as it splits into smaller channels; sometimes muddy brown, sometimes green with algae and lilly pads; sometimes hidden by trees, sometimes opening up to a spectacular vista. But it's always there, as people go about their business fishing for walleye pike or serving up eggs'n'hash browns in one of the riverside diners, where folk talk of dilapidated bridges and what they caught the day before.
Further up the river, on the way to Red Wing, I was admiring the view and reading about the feeding habits of migrating swans on an information post (they enjoy some kind of river tuber), when a cyclist stopped for a chat. Turned out he lived in Lake City (en-route to Red Wing) where he grows raspberries. He ended up inviting me round for fresh raspberries, ice-cream and home-made raspberry liqueur. Delicious. Thanks, Greg! Red Wing is a nice, brick, river town but I didn't see too much of it because I was staying in a motel a bit out of town. Ended up going to see the new Harry Potter movie in the multiplex across the street. It was nice to hear some Scottish accents. Late-night meal at a tex-mex restaurant was a treat, too.
