Afton tainted, lesson learned

This season I've learned that I like riding out to Afton.

When confronted with the choice of riding West or East, I almost always prefer to ride East. I choose this direction even on days when I know I'll have a headwind coming home and my preference is usually to aim for Afton.

I don't know why I do this. Perhaps it's because I like the climbs cut into the bluffs along the Mississippi and St. Croix River fronts. Perhaps it's because of my negative experience earlier this summer in Wyzata. Maybe the smell of cow shit reminds me of riding in Wisconsin. Likely, it's for all these reasons and then some.

Afton, is an ideal destination for a bicycle ride. I can fly out and back from Minneapolis along a fairly direct route and probably "get 'er dun" in 65 or 70 miles. Or, I can take the long way out, weaving a path through SE Minneapolis against the Mississippi, through Fort Snelling, across to Mendota Heights, passing under the High Bridge, up Ohio St, over the High Bridge into downtown St. Paul, along Kellogg Blvd, cresting 94 before settling into a grind up and down the bluffs overlooking the barges tied off on the banks of the Mississippi. The latter is like going the way the crow flies if the crow in question were blind, mostly brain-damaged and in possession of only one of its wings. Poor crow...

Either way, whether I manage to squeeze off a century or only have time and energy for the shortest course between here and there, Afton is the place I want to be my "there."

So, obviously, when I went out for a longer ride last Sunday with Weezy, I chose a ride bound for Afton. The ride went very well; we rode hard into the wind and rested when we had a tail, observing (keenly, I'd like to believe) that we'd have a headwind coming home and would need to conserve some energy for the return leg of our trip. Weezy recommended another detour from the pretty straightforward out-and-back character of Military Road (which is like an artery between East St. Paul and it's Afton appendage) taking us south through corn fields and then soy fields and then fields of some freakish experimental trees. No joke - it was like X-files but for biology enthusiasts. All in all, great scenery and an extremely quiet road as far as traffic was concerned; we saw a solitary pickup.

Upon arriving in Afton, after our best efforts to maim myself while hurtling down St. Croix Trail in a full suicide tuck on the bike, Weezy and I stopped at one of the two establishments that comprise Afton's business district, an ice-cream/coffee shop. (The other being a craft store for... I guess... people who like crafts??? I just don't get it. Seriously, who in their right mind participates in crafts? Anyway, I digress...) We stopped to refill water bottles, consume a quick snack, and leave shortly thereafter, or so I thought. After we both topped off our bottles with delicious ice water I ate a granola bar while Weezy returned to the counter to buy one of his own. When he came out of the shop a moment later, however, he was carrying one dainty espresso, one humongous sandwich and one bag of rancid chips, which smelled of onions and pickles and rotting cabbage. I was dumbfounded; I had mentioned to Weezy that I wanted to stop only briefly, eat quickly and get back on the bike so that my legs wouldn't start to try and recover. Having to climb the hills out of Afton once this has begun is unpleasant, to say the least. I had hoped to avoid this fate (one that I've fallen victim to many times before, admittedly, on my own accord) but was not so lucky. By the time Weezy finished his feast, we'd been sitting there for 15 or 20 minutes. The climb was slow and rough. Thanks a mil, Weez.


Lesson: rob Weezy blind before embarking on next ride to Afton.