My weekend began early, unloading four bikes from the back of the car and strapping in our two diminutive dogs to the bicycle trailer of my long ago childhood. We chose Lanesboro as our base camp, and with the honor of being Minnesota's "Bed and Breakfast Capital," we chose well. It certainly beat nearby Fountain, otherwise known as the "Sinkhole Capital of the United States."
But Lanesboro is more than a place to sleep, eat, and park your bike at night. Navigate, if you can, around the spandex-clad men and wandering families, to the Lanesboro Historical Museum. A bespectacled museum director will usher you into the cramped, three-story museum. Though the current director has only been in Lanesboro seven years, he can take you back to the Civil War days.
Lanesboro was never a big town, but at only 800 today (give or take a rebellious, city-bound son or daughter), it relies mostly on tourists. Back when Minnesota was still fodder for East Coast speculating (as opposed to now when it is just fodder for East Coast mocking), word spread that Lanesboro was getting the railroad. Advertised as being as beautiful as Switzerland, Lanesboro began to grow. But we all know how this story ends. The railroad pulls out in the 1970s and so does the economy. In fact, Lanesboro was so poor, it didn't have the money to tear down the now decades old downtown buildings. Once the bike trail took the place of the defunct railway, that history became a selling point for tourists and the town found its new cash crop--charm and trails.
The charm can get a little too wholesome at times, but the Historical Museum is unfiltered, archived honesty. Amidst the homemade wedding dresses and ornately carved woodwork, there's a bit of darkness too. A binder full of obituaries reads like the bemused diary of the town misanthrope (a drowned teenager was said to have "wandered in the river beyond his height"). Marriage notices are less the joyous fluff of today's announcements than pointed town gossip, like the column on a country couple who had tried, unsuccessfully, to hide their relationship. And in the town pictures, the local Sons of Norway captured the early 1900s celebration of the womanless wedding, which is essentially an excuse for the men to dress in drag as beautiful brides.
And when the ice-cream licking packs of tourists get to be a bit much, hit the trails. Few of the surrounding towns are as interesting but you can find wonderful pie only five miles away in Whalan, which is pretty much the only thing you can find there. Preston is less impressive. When we finished the ten mile ride out there, scanning the main road for signs of a business district, two girls sitting on the curb told us the closest town was ten miles away...in Lanesboro. Not quite the case, but close.
Back in the big city of Rochester, Minnesota's mix of the irreverent and the mundane taken all in the same big stride welcomed us home. It was Saturday night and on that particular Saturday, that meant roller derby! One thousand onlookers filled the Mayo Civic Center for the spectacle, many experiencing roller derby and all its quirks for the first time. Aside from the two teams of badass skaters looking fearsome with their fishnets, tattoos, and braids, there was also a horde of referees (equally fearsome, one man sporting a metal-studded kilt) keeping track of elbows, low blocks, hip checks, and general brutality of the bout. I'm happy to report, the Minneapolis North Star Roller Girls handily beat their opponents.
Roller derby is, according to the raucous announcers, the fastest-growing sport in the United States. As such, it seems roller derby is approaching a crossroads. Now, the leagues are player-owned, profitless, and amateur. But with expansion comes a desire to be taken seriously. There is talk of an Olympic exhibition game and some players have begun going by their real names to be more like their counterparts in other sports, Jawbreaker, for example, is now just Kim Gallant. For now though, skaters like RazorCake, Deadlila, and Ida Kildher are keeping, and taking, names.
One tradition I don't see disappearing anytime soon, the after-party, where all wounds and grudges dissipate under the influence.
From crossdressing Norwegians to a Med City Massacre, Minnesota knows how to have a good time and what to eat and drink after.
Photos: National Scenic Byways Program of the Lanesboro Historical Museum, North Star Northern Lights 2010 Team Photo
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