Lake Country

First stop, northern Minnesota.

I’m in Lake Country, two hours north of the Twin Cities. I had an axle replaced on my 1988 Scamp trailer. The manufacturer is in a small town called Backus about halfway between Brainerd and Bemidji and not far from the headwaters of the Mississippi River.

The landscape is shaped by thousands of lakes left when glaciers retreated after the last ice age. Every lake, it seems, has a resort, either cabins or RV sites or some combination of both. Lakes are clear, deep, and full of fish—walleye, northern pikes, crappies (which they pronounce “croppies”), bass, and bream. The economy must be heavily dependent on tourism even though they only have about three months of weather warm enough to spend much time outside. They do have ice fishing, cross country skiing, and hunting in the winter, when snow mobiles are as common as four-wheelers.

All these small towns in Minnesota look similar in the way that small towns in the South look the same. They all have a familiar feel. The streets are straight and flat in a grid with simple names—6th Street, Central Avenue, and, of course, Lake Street or Lakeshore Drive. Simple houses built in the mid-twentieth century sit back from the roads. Grass grows well up here so they effortlessly have lawns that many North Carolinians work hard to get. I’m pretty sure that the state of Minnesota mandates that every town has a Dairy Queen, even if it’s only open four months a year.

This is also Paul Bunyan country. The Paul Bunyan Trail is a paved path that runs a hundred miles through Lake Country from just south of Brainerd to Bemidji. Giant effigies of the mythical lumberjack and his blue ox, Babe, are everywhere. The most famous is a tourist attraction in Bemidji, but now they seem to be in every town and in front of many businesses. Paul has become a pitchman.

Minnesotans like large statues of animals and people, or at least imaginary ones. There’s the world’s largest otter in Fergus Falls. A giant pelican welcomes you to Pelican Rapids. And in Hackensack, 17-foot tall Lucette Diana Kensack, Paul Bunyan’s little-known squeeze, stands guard over the boat landing, waiting for her lumberjack sweetheart and his bovine to come visit.

Lake culture is a very real thing. I’m staying in an RV resort on the banks of Crow Wing Lake. About 100 sites with water and electric hookups span 30 acres. The park has a swimming pool, play grounds, basketball courts, shuffleboard, a disc golf course, and volley ball courts. The camp store has everything you need, including video games and a pool table. They rent pontoons, canoes and kayaks, paddleboats and paddleboards, and boat slips. There’s also a giant chair, I guess in case Paul Bunyan stops by for a visit.

People don’t leave the campground. My site is located by the entrance and I have not seen ten cars go out of the park since I’ve been here. Some of the RVs seem to be parked for the season, if not longer. They are attached to screened porches and have flower gardens. Most are huge and many seem to be inhabited by multiple generations. I may be the only solo camper and my 13 foot Scamp is definitely the smallest rig.

Kids are everywhere, whizzing by on bikes and dribbling basketballs up the paved drive. The playground is full by 8am. Many people also travel with their dogs, though I haven’t heard any barking or growling. My dogs probably wouldn’t be welcome.

At dinner time, the park is filled with the smell of meats on the grill. Families gather around the picnic table and the playgrounds go quiet for an hour or so. I went into Brainerd for dinner last night and the restaurants were empty. The place is full of tourists and nobody is eating out on a Friday night. Fine dining is not a priority for Lake people.

These folks are hearty and largely homogenous, though I’ve seen a few Native Americans. They speak with the accent shaped by their Nordic heritage, with long vowels and a Scandinavian lilt. They’re also very patriotic, flying American flags and brandishing shirts or bumperstickers commemorating veterans. They are friendly, but not exactly warm, often willing to help but not big on conversations.

I’m heading to Crow Wing State Park today. The park has a historical site and scenic bluffs overlooking the Mississippi as well as hiking trails. That’s about everything I’m looking for in a state park. With highs in the 70s, I’m set for a day outside.