River Road

I once told my dad about my dreams of living somewhere else someday. I described the various options available to me: the seashore, the mountains, maybe a big city. He listened and then said, “You’ll live where you work.” He was right. I found a job here and didn’t go too far. My wife, Rhonda, and I both grew up in small towns along the Minnesota River, so it seems natural now that we would live near it.  

I never moved very far from this valley, and I never stayed away too long. After leaving home to attend college I eventually returned. This past weekend I traveled some river roads that I have been on dozens, maybe hundreds of times. This, of course, is possible when you don’t go too far from home.

When I travel I like to have choices and some measure of control over scheduling, itinerary, and mode of transportation. That combination just about eliminates air travel, which is fine with me as I dislike the whole hurry up and wait agenda and the cattle–like herding of passengers. But when you drive your own vehicle the choices are all yours (except when they’re your wife’s).

For Mother’s Day weekend (in our house it’s not just one day) Rhonda decided we should take the camper to Henderson. I had my own idea how to get there, and it had very little to do with a four–lane highway.

Once we were in Jordan we got off the highway and crossed the river. We stopped at the National Wildlife Refuge and had a picnic–style lunch on a park bench. From there we dropped in at a cemetery in Carver so Rhonda could visit her mother’s gravesite and drop off some tulips.

We got detoured at East Union, so we drove through the countryside to West Union and dropped down to the Scenic Byway, where we would cross the river again into Blakeley. Between the Unions we met up with a group of bicyclists who had picked the perfect day for a ride. Seeing them reminded me of the summer day a friend of mine decided to ride our bikes from Belle Plaine to Blakeley, from there we crossed the river and took the long way back to town. We were nine or ten years old.

When Rhonda and I got to Blakeley, we stopped at Albrecht’s Antique Shop. Although the door was open and Arlene was there, the shop is no longer open for business. With a realignment of a road caused by the wash–out last June, Arlene is selling out with a two–day auction this August. We talked with her for a few minutes and left with an auction flyer.

We crossed the river again and took the Jessenland road to Henderson, a charming river town. With all the motorcycles in town it looked like a rally, but it was just a nice day for a ride. We parked the truck and trailer on a side street and started walking. We visited with Jane at the antique store about the passing of time, were offered some tacos from another store, bought some ice cream from Toody’s, and groceries from Wager’s.

When we got to the municipal campground on the top of the hill two brothers from Henderson helped me carry a picnic table to our site.  They weren’t camping; they were just at the campground with their kids for the day. When it started to get dark they left with their two cars and gave me the balance of their firewood. Our children had drove down to spend a few hours with their mother (and grandmother); it only took a half and hour to get there from Jordan because they took the highway.

As Rhonda and I sat around the fire after they left we recounted the blessings of the day. She remarked how we didn’t have to travel very far from home to have a good trip. Or a good life.