After leaving the berry farm to make our way toward the Minneapolis area, I knew I wanted to stop at this cheese farm I’d found on Harvest Hosts. Harvest Hosts is the app I’ve been using to find free places to stay for the night while I make my way to the destinations I want to stay at longer.
I was originally going to book the cheese farm in lieu of the berry farm, but I’m glad I didn’t. The berry farm was a dream, as mentioned in my last post. And the cheese farm, although they had fresh cheese, that was delicious by the way, was strange and not at all equipped to host a camper.
When I drove up, I missed the turn because the directions pointed to a private residence that was not marked as a business. The small places I’ve stayed are all working farms and make their money on the products they grow or produce, so most of them have signs by their driveways. Most are small, wooden signs with the names painted on them. This one did not have a sign so I had to drive a mile around and back because the tiny dirt roads in Western Minnesota have very few cross streets and they are too narrow to turn around on with my camper.
I called the owner and he told me to come on over. When I arrived I parked on the street and walked down the long driveway. I had the dogs with me and we were greeted by a woman walking a horse. I asked her if this was the place to buy cheese and she said yes. When we got to the house, we were greeted by about six different breeds of dogs. All friendly, and all very busy. The owner came out to say hi. He was an older man with a long grey beard. He was wearing jean overalls and looked surprised to see me. I told him I had called and wondered if he would sell me some cheese. This all sounds so ridiculous as I type it. He said they mostly sold their products at farmer’s markets, but he’d be happy to show me what he had. We walked into one of the barns on the property, climbing over equipment that was lying on the ground to get to the giant refrigerator just inside the door.
I had tied the boys up because it was so chaotic with all the dogs running around and the equipment everywhere. The owner’s son, who couldn’t be older than 10, came outside and lingered while his dad talked to me about cheese. He was also wearing overalls and looked like a farm boy. He didn’t say much while his dad showed me all the options for fresh cheese, most of which had been made that week.
Usually a situation like this might feel scary because the setup was so strange, but it felt safe and everyone was really polite. They were a working operation, just not used to out-of-the-blue visitors, even though they are listed as a Harvest Host. He told me later they aren’t really set up to host.
He showed me a number of cheeses and they all looked delicious. I bought four different kinds, two hard cheeses, one herbed soft cheese, and one slice of fresh gorgonzola made the day prior. When he pulled out the giant Tupperware to show me the cheese, I knew I had to have some. He told me he’d have to go inside to cut it. I followed him into the house. At the top of the stairs, before I got to the kitchen, was a giant Saint Bernard I had to step over to get fully inside. He was in total relaxation mode with his head resting on the top step. When I entered the kitchen, I immediately noticed giant pots of cheese cooking and cooling. One pot had the biggest cheese cloth I'd ever seen dangling overhead with white creamy liquid slowly dripping into it.
I paid for the cheese and made my way towards the Twin Cities. The drive was a little over three hours. We were going to stay with family in Hugo about thirtyish minutes from the city. One of my aunts had married a man from Minnesota and both of our families are close. His parents and two other siblings have visited multiple times and I have grown close with his younger sister Liz, who is just a little younger than me. She feels more like a cousin, although she’s technically my aunt once removed? I think that’s what that means. She and her husband live out in the country with their two adorable children. I had never met the kids because they hadn’t been to visit since they were born.
On the drive, I stopped to get gas at this tiny shop in the middle of nowhere. While inside I bought something called a rhubarb crispy. It was essentially pie dough with rhubarb filling and a sugary outside. It was huge, bigger than my entire hand. I was in heaven eating it as crumbs piled on my lap and we continued on our journey.
The boys have gotten so good at riding in the car. Lars used to be so anxious and now all they do is sleep. They are perfectly content sharing the front seat while we move on to our next destination.
Similarly to all the other places I’d visited up to this point, the drive was slow and mostly down county roads that were two-lane highways. I enjoyed it. I was seeing so much newness, I loved it. My aunt/cousin later told me that she doesn’t even notice the corn fields anymore because they are everywhere.
They let me park in the driveway and hook up to power and water. I stayed for a few days and was grateful for the hospitality. They live on this beautiful piece of property that is much bigger than it looks. I think it’s a couple of acres. They have a pond in the back and a pool. Their house is old but so homey. I’m so happy for them and the life they’ve created in this paradise. The only downside was the mosquitoes. They were everywhere. The pond didn’t help. But I didn’t mind because the scenery was stunning.
I was so happy to be able to stay for a few days so we could take a break from driving and just relax. The boys and I slept in every morning and then would do a loop around the neighborhood. They lived just off of a rural county road. It was one of the busier roads, but not busy enough that we couldn’t walk along the short stretch to do the whole loop. We did the loop every night too. Most of the time we would catch the sunset. The golden hour was magical as the sun beamed on the corn fields that lined the road. Most of the path was dirt roads so we could walk in the middle and just enjoy the quiet sound of nothingness.
The area was funny though. Every time we made our way around the last stretch of the loop we would walk past a giant wooden sign with the words “Organic Firewood” painted on it. I’m not sure what non-organic firewood is, but maybe I’ve been using the wrong kind this whole time?
One day Liz and I took her kids and my boys to Stillwater for the day. I had heard from a friend that it’s a cool place to visit and so we decided to make a day of it. The drive was short, Hugo is one of several tiny towns in the area. The town was nestled along a river and reminded me a lot of Sandpoint, Idaho. The downtown area bordered the river. Lacking most commercial businesses, the main street was made up of art galleries, thrift and antique shops, and any kind of café or casual dining you could think of. There were well-established icons like Leo’s Grill & Malt Shop as well as boujee waterfront spots, pub food, and farm-to-table restaurants. I’d love to go back and try them all.
We walked along the river that Liz had told me was the Mississippi when we drove in. I was so excited because I’d never seen it before. I learned later that it’s actually the St. Croix River, which does flow into the Mississippi so I’ll give her a little credit. We walked along a pedestrian bridge that crosses over into a different town. You can keep walking for miles, but it was so hot we weren’t up for it. The bridge is old and rustic. It’s very picturesque and I was happy cars weren't allowed on it. The old bridge ran parallel to another newer, more modern-looking bridge. Apparently, the old bridge was used for traffic until the new one was built.
That was our one big excursion while I visited. Most of our time was spent lounging in the camper, catching up on writing, and walking around the neighborhood. Liz was so sweet though, we gave each other privacy, but she let me do laundry and shower while I was there. I was so grateful. One morning I came out of the camper to find a Tupperware filled with French toast, syrup, and plastic cutlery. I was stoked for the yummy breakfast. Liz is a true gem. I’m grateful our families have been able to spend so much time together over the years.
Her oldest boy was always chatting me up when I came inside. He’s quite busy as most toddlers are. He asks a lot of questions, and when you’re having an “adult” conversation he interrupts. It was adorable. Both of her kids are. The youngest is a chunk and so snuggly. I got to hold him a few times and he nestled right in.
One day I went walking with her mom. She’s also so sweet and has grandma-like qualities. When she used to visit for Christmas she would make homemade caramels that were too easy to overeat. She picked me and the dogs up and we drove to another tiny town. On the drive, I was scared for my life. She’s not too old to have her license taken away, but she should. As we whipped around the narrow corners that alerted drivers to slow down, she didn’t hit the brakes, and I held on for dear life. As we approached a narrow tunnel on a sharp corner at full speed, even though the sign said 10 mph, she informed me that a kid had died on the curve a few years back so now they have arrows and a speed limit.
We did arrive safely, but I was worried about the ride back. Liz’s husband later told me he won’t ride with her because she’s too scary of a driver. He said it had been some three years. I was comforted in knowing I wasn’t the only one. We met her friend and walked the route they take most days. They told me it went along the river, but they opted for the road through the neighborhood instead. I was a little bummed and when I asked if we would take the path they said no they don’t walk it. I thought it was strange, but I stayed open since she had been so kind to bring me. Once we got moving I was happier. I think the drive had thrown me off so I was happy to be getting some exercise to help my mood.
We started midmorning and by the time we were halfway through it was already in the mid-80s. My time in Minnesota was most memorable because of the extreme heat. When I got to Minneapolis a few days later it was worse.
I was happy to spend time with her because it had been so long, and it only took 10ish minutes for my mood to lift. The boys were happy too. I was nervous about the heat with them, and I had brought water in the car but I didn’t want to carry it on the walk since it was going to be about an hour. We passed a trough filled with water, twice, so the boys and I stopped and they got their fix. It made me feel less guilty for leaving the water in the car. It wasn’t that hot when we had started so I thought we’d be fine.
Our last day there was spent alone. Liz and her family had left for the weekend so we stayed for one more night in the camper before making our trip to Minneapolis. The city was a lot closer than I expected. It was hard to imagine being so close to such a metropolitan area when the surrounding area was dirt roads and corn fields. The nearest gas station to Liz’s house was twenty minutes away.
Before I drove to the city I decided to dump my trailer. I found a random spot on my app that said it had a dump station. I called and they said for $4 I could use it. Most of the other places are free because they are at gas stations or campgrounds, but $4 seemed like no big deal. Dumping there, however, was a big deal. My other aunt, the one I stayed with back in Montana before leaving, had shown me how to dump my waste. It was so much easier than I had built it up to be. She gave me all the pro tips for how to make my life easier and it was such a relief knowing all of it before leaving on my trip.
The dump station looked mostly like the others. The water spigot was a little ghetto and the hole where the hose went was a little different than the others I'd used before, but it seemed to be fairly standard. It was not. I put my hose in the hole, and similarly to when I fill my water tank, the hose end should fit without having to attach anything so once the black and grey water starts flowing, it should stay in place. It needs to because you have to wiggle the hose to make sure everything gets out. This one wouldn’t stay in. The hole was wider than usual so I'm assuming that was why. I kept trying to position it to not move, but I had to leave it and hope for the best. This quickly became a two-person job which it’s not. As soon as I opened the black water tank to drain, the hose moved away from the hole and poopy water spilled all over the sides of the drain. I was so mad. I thought it was my fault, but there’s no way in hell this hasn’t happened before. I had to take my time slowly moving the water through the pipe while also stretching myself towards the drain to hold it in place. It was a nightmare. Not to mention it was like 90 degrees out. Luckily I had rubber gloves on thanks to my aunt. It took me three times longer than it should have. I did my best to use the spigot to clean everything up and get the fuck out of there.
My hands were sweaty from the heat and from being in the latex gloves. All I wanted was a shower. I couldn’t wait to get to Minneapolis. I was going to stay with my former pastor and his wife. More on this trip later.
This was the last of my farm country travels, well until I see them again which I probably will. It was also the last leg of the trip before I arrived in the first part of the country I was most excited about. I had been dreaming of coming back to Minneapolis, but mostly it meant I would finally be closer to my first big stop- the UP in Michigan and officially be on Eastern time.
I keep saying it, but I’m doing it. I’m really doing it. Every day, every mile feels like another gift. I’m living out my dream and writing all the details down. In some way, this blog serves as a platform for me to capture my memories and hold them in great detail forever. Traveling on the road in my camper is starting to feel more normal now. I guess it wasn’t ever not normal, because I’ve always loved camper life, but it’s finally starting to feel like home. A real home.
Comments