Missed blogs due to extreme Dylan train awesomeness. And hangovers. So you get a double dose of blog.
We are now here in Duluth, Minnesota, our last port of call, before the horror of normal life resumes.
Yesterday we left Red Wing and stopped for a small pancake
and left behind the Mississippi River FOREVER, as we entered the Great Lakes area.
All of our journey has been on highways either adopted/sponsored by a business or in memory of people who have died on said road - which seems a tad contradictory. Weirdly, the sponsorship doesn't appear to equate to resurfacing. The pancake OD was not enhanced by the potholes.
We passed through numerous tiny towns which leant themselves to the 'Guess the number of churches' driving game. We were constantly defeated by a sneaky Lutheran establishment here or a pop up Methodist chapel there. An excellent sign warned of the need to save today's youth before it was too late or before "A young man's thoughts, get turning to girling". Classic.
The journey into Duluth - accompanied by Bob's new album- took us through forests and boating resorts.
It also gets a wee but chilly here according to the road signs:
We finally rolled into Minnesota - The land of 10,000 beers - to our final home. No seriously, this is our new home! We were greeted with a hug, cold beer and sat on the deck above Duluth harbour
why would we leave?
Our hosts - who have headed off for the weekend, so we have the house to ourselves - are two great tie-dyed hippies, who lived in the woods for 16 years with a trout steam, swimming hole and hot tub. They only returned to town as Paul got West Nile disease. They regaled us with tales of friends living off the proceeds of found bales of cocaine down in Belize and of going to Bob's local recording cabin along with Bonnie Raitt - as you do. Loranda only narrowly avoided death by Denis, by saying Bob was a bit of an arsehole! But then she drove us into town to catch the Blood on the Tracks train. So all was forgiven. Well, she was alive last time Lou saw her.
And here's where there were nearly tears, as around the time of boarding, there was a distinct lack of train and people. We went into the station, gate crashing a veterans reunion bash, to be told we should be at a station down the road!!!!! The bartender called us a cab and wesuccessfully got there in time. Phew! How awful would it have been if we had missed it?!!!
So this is where the true experience cannot be fully expressed. But brief summary: There was a train and music and rum and awesome people and a trillion stars and views across Lake Superior and tacos and a train and music and rum and awesome people and the train wailing and music and rum and awesome people. IT WAS F**KING AWESOME!!!!!!!!
The 10 carriage train consisted of a mix of modern and vintage cars, with a freight wagon either end. One was electric, one acoustic, with a series of bands crammed down each end, along with a bar and as many people as possible. Plus more people. The sliding sides were open with railings, so you just watched the scenery, danced and partied.
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Lou went electric at one point, moshing with the metal dudes. You just wandered up and down the train and chatted to everyone.
The mid point gig was at Two Harbors
and took place at the American Legion, where there were some suspiciously South Park looking kids thank you messages for Memorial Day
At the gig, word got around about our travels and suddenly we were elevated to guests of honour. A stream of people came to shake our 'awesome' hands and we were invited to join the train car occupied by the mega fans. We met the guy who runs the Dylan radio show (who is also an escapologist and collects Houdini memorabelia and handcuffs. 300+ pairs if you're wondering). We had offers of city tours and all sorts of fab conversations. Den was obviously complemented on his Bobesque looks again, so if his ego isn't set to burst now, it never will be!
We raced back into the city in the early hours and both agreed it was a night we will never forget.
This morning we had fresh eggs from the resident chooks and hiked up into the woods to get a view of the lake
and the harbour lift bridge
We needed some serious recooperation time this afternoon, then headed to the harbour entrance
to catch the sinking sun, before a Triple D organic diner dinner.
And that was the last 48 hours. We have a few more sites to see over the weekend, so a couple more last blogs to come.
I did not know that: Gandy Dancer is not a sponsor of rec areas as we thought, but the US term for Navvy.
Awesome: Train, rum, bands - you know the drill.
Banjo: Stoned dudes on the train collapsing into hysterics everytime you said "Fucking mental" in a posh British accent.
Diner: Bison burger, cob salad.
Co-pilot: Sorry, what was that about maps v satnav?
Mozzies: Lou has the upper hand.