Brian Richardson

This was our fourth day in a row of a relentless headwind—from mile one, there was a steady breeze against us. We were once again working 50% harder than usual in order to travel at 70% of our typical pace. If you’re thinking this headwind story is getting old, we agree.

Michael pulls Friend and Usher into the mist and wind

Thirty miles through this wind landed us at the Minnesota border. After the ten days and over 600 awesome but sometimes tortuous miles in South Dakota, we were happy to be moving on.

The crew at the Lincoln County line which, while there is no sign to recognize this, is also the Minnesota state line

Across the state border, we quickly noticed a change in dialect; “ope,” “jeez,” “you betcha” and “grocery beg” could all be heard at our brief stops in the towns of Hendricks and Minneota.

Friend catches a quick snooze in Hendricks, MN

Looking around as we biked, we could also now see that we were solidly in the Midwest. Along the road were farms of all types (corn and soy, hogs, sheep, windmills), numerous lakes, and ducks floating and flying along.

Wind and hog farms in Minnesota

Crossing the border into Minnesota was also a cause for celebration because this state line marks our estimated halfway point of the ride. We’re now five weeks and about 2,250 miles from our staring point in Florence, Oregon. After all the ups and downs of the last 35 days, it is both daunting and thrilling to think about what’s in store for us between here and Bar Harbor.

The gang chowing down on supper in Cottonwood, MN