An Epic Journey to DuluthInstead of flying from Minneapolis to Duluth I decided to take a bus. I haven’t taken a bus trip in a long time and, although I had some misgivings, I knew it would be an adventure. It far surpassed my expectations. This is my story of an epic bus trip.
Chapter One: Delayed Before We Even Started As I was waiting for my Uber driver to pick me up at the motel and take me to the Minneapolis bus terminal, I got a call from the bus company. My bus had been canceled but there was another bus two hours later. OOOOOKAY. . . It was too late to cancel Uber so off I went, like Frodo heading to Mount Doom. Actually I had a very nice driver who was a retired teacher, like me. We discussed the challenges of teaching on the way to the station. Chapter Two: Hanging Out at the Bus Station I did not know what to expect at the Minneapolis bus station. I had been warned that it might not be in a great neighborhood, which from past experiences could have been a possibility, but it did not live up to those negative predictions. It was big and airy with a friendly security guard checking to make sure everyone had tickets and knew where they were going. I settled in to a functioning but not very comfortable bench. The terminal was a people watcher’s paradise. People of every age, body type, race, and culture wandered in and out. A woman in a full-on burka strolled by, as well as an Amish family. The Amish women were dressed in matching dark dresses with black bonnets. Even the baby-in-arms was wearing a miniature version of her Mom’s bonnet. The men had what looked like Prince Valiant haircuts sticking out of their straw hats. They all had beards. It looked to me like the older gentleman dyed his hair. It was totally black compared to his grey beard. I talked to a woman who sat next to me. She had an interesting collage she was carrying in an open box. I told her I liked it, which started a long conversation about the hospital therapy class where she made the collage and other crafts. I learned about her five husbands, at least one of whom was deceased, and her son with Asperger's. I was starting to feel lost in info-overload when her bus arrived and off she went with her box. All of a sudden people were lining up at nearly every gate. In a short period of time the whole place emptied except for me and two young women. We were all going to Duluth on the delayed bus. They were on a vacation adventure. Although they lived in the Minneapolis area they had never been to Duluth. I applauded their choice of a motel at canal park, located right on the lake, and we talked for a while about Duluth, teaching (one of them was a teacher), aging (I was about the age of their moms), and the frustrations of traveling by bus. Chapter Three: More Delays More people wandered in as it was getting close to the scheduled departure time but there was no bus. We started checking the on-line bus tracker. Each time I looked, the departure time got later and later. People were starting to mumble their disapproval. An older guy told me he was two days behind on his planned trip because of cancelations. He had arrived in Minneapolis the night before. The depot was closed and he had to sleep on the street. I was starting to contemplate if there was anything in my suitcase that might work for bedding. Finally the bus showed up, two hours behind schedule. Chapter Four: Lost in Saint Paul There were a few muffled cheers as we loaded onto the bus. Expectations were high. Unfortunately we had barely gotten started when I heard the bus driver telling someone from the company that he was lost. Evidently freeway construction detours had confused him. We were treated to an unplanned but interesting tour of some neighborhoods in Saint Paul that reminded me of Duluth. We wound our way through a residential area while the driver followed directions he was receiving over the phone. Finally we landed at the St Paul bus terminal and picked up a few more passengers. Chapter Five: I-35: Once out of The Twin Cities, which is what Minnesotans call Minneapolis and St Paul, we encountered the natural wonder that is I-35, the freeway between Minneapolis and Duluth. The main thing you see on this road are trees, lots and lots of trees. Aspen, birch, pine, maple, and other trees I couldn’t identify lined the entire three-hour route. Trees edged the scattered farms just north of Minneapolis and then grew in number as we headed further north, where the trees became forests and the farms disappeared. The amount of greenery along I-35 cannot be imagined. Somewhere along the way there were some small towns but I couldn’t see them because of the trees. The bus didn’t stop at any of them. The driver was catching up for lost time. We zoomed along, passing a variety of cars and trucks, mostly semis and pickups. Some of the pickups were attached to travel trailers headed for a vacation in the Northland, probably at one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes. The sky was a blue canvas dotted with the same puffy white clouds I had seen on my flight into Minneapolis, except this time I was seeing them from a different perspective. It was beautiful, and I was happy that I had decided to take the bus, despite all of the delays. It brought back memories of a car trip to Duluth I had made with my sister Linda. I imagined her looking down from the clouds and smiling. Chapter Six: Arriving in Duluth I knew we were getting close to Duluth when we passed the Black Bear Casino run by the indigenous community. It signaled that we would soon be approaching my favorite part of the trip. Duluth sits on the side of a giant rocky hill created by the glaciers millions of years ago. It overlooks Lake Superior, which is one of the largest freshwater lakes in the world. There is a 700 foot drop from the top of the hill to the lake. I anticipated that magical moment when we would go over the crest of the hill and see the city spread out below. The view always gives me heart palpitations. It didn’t disappoint even though it was partially blocked by the bus seats. Off in the distance I could see the harbor and the Aerial Bridge, a unique lift bridge that defines the city like the Eiffel Tower defines Paris. Behind it, Lake Superior spread out to the horizon. Even though I have not lived in Duluth for 50 years, I knew I was home.
2 Comments
JOAN L LINDBERG
7/23/2022 12:43:38 pm
Leslie, what beautiful writing. I anticipated that moment on Thompson Hill for 12 years driving into work, after I had moved out of Duluth's "Friendly West End" .I always left an impression, even on foggy days. I live near Cloquet now but my son still lives in Duluth. I know my new house is geographically SOUTH of Duluth, but I always ask "when are you coming UP to see me?" as I know he has to climb Thompson Hill to get here.
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John Hoglund
7/24/2022 08:23:42 pm
Very well written Leslie! You definitely have a skill.
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Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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