Sourced from material written or otherwise captured on the road, The Biking Jay is a travel blog by Portland-based Jay Kapp as he rides his bike from Portland to New York.

Mini Apple

Mini Apple

4 days

60 miles

 

The path to Minneapolis's pith was protracted. Somehow the wind always knows to deal the hardest hits on days with the fewest miles. It's actually kinda sweet. I wasn't thinking that on Sunday, though. The day dragged on asymptotically -- the distance to the destination only ever just dividing itself in half. In half. In half. From wilderness through cornfields to the exurbs through cornfields to the suburbs through cornfields to the industrial shell that surrounds the twin cities. I hadn't expected to feel such an emotional shock at arriving in a big city after weeks in tiny towns; I sensed immediately that some of the habits I've picked up on the road might be out of place here.

 

More than any other place in the states, Minneapolis values its cyclists. A network of paths courses in, through, and around The City of Flour and Sawdust. If you know your way, these greenways are a glorious circuit past lakes, rivers, parks and architectural delights (a centuries' long relationship with brick juxtaposed against bold and imaginative buildings built in the last 50 years). If you don't know your way around (and you're trying to decode it on a beautiful, sunny Third of July when every mother, father and child is out dazily enjoying the paths) it can be infuriatingly confusing: I rode around the city hopelessly lost for about an hour until I asked other cyclists to usher me toward Lake Harriet. When I finally made it -- drenched in sweat and the residue of five days of tent life -- I rested the bike against a short wall, stripped down to my shorts and dove in for a swim. By that point I'd been on the bike for 8 hours; the water (perfectly temperate and stunningly clean) washed it all away.

 

From there, it was a five-minute ride to the Raki core of Minneapolis. Raki has been my psychological and logistical way post for this trek: the halfway point and the chance to take a couple days' rest with an old friend. She was my yoga teacher in Portland and moved out here about two years ago to be with her lady. The two of them opened their home and their lives to me; gave me a basement suite (resplendent with hot shower, laundry and all the furnishings to suit a prince); treated me to a bbq on the 4th with a crew of embracingly beautiful people; and taught me how to take advantage of this town. I rode the greenways again, free of all my bags, blissfully lost on the miles of immaculate asphalt. I drank Surly beer. I sewed up some holes in the wardrobe. I rested.

 

Yesterday, a phenomenal storm (technically two twin storms, one after the other) tore into the twin cities. Flash floods, hours of lightning and thunder, downed trees, lost power. The works. When I went to Raki's Tuesday night yoga class, nobody else had ventured to the studio -- which had a wall of windows facing west onto the electrified twilight -- and so I got a personalized class from a personal icon. A tune-up after the past month.

 

Tonight begins part II. I'm off now to meet Drew.

CASA and New Seasons in Arbor Lodge paired up to send this incredible care package - all my favorite things. Celebrate good food indeed. Thanks Allison, Joe, Kristina and everyone else who put this together.

CASA and New Seasons in Arbor Lodge paired up to send this incredible care package - all my favorite things. Celebrate good food indeed. Thanks Allison, Joe, Kristina and everyone else who put this together.

Raki and Abby

Raki and Abby

image.jpg
Isaiah just started a cross-country trip on his long haul trucker. I met him about 30 minutes into his journey. God speed buddy. 

Isaiah just started a cross-country trip on his long haul trucker. I met him about 30 minutes into his journey. God speed buddy. 

Drink Beer and Eat Meat

Drink Beer and Eat Meat

Dunes Buried

Dunes Buried