There was a few of us Chicagoans in town that weekend, so after breakfast at Modern Times local #fixiefamous bro Erin Young had the idea to take us on a MPLS bike culture tour, starting at Angry Catfish, through the Minnesota River Bottoms, with a pit stop at Minnehaha Falls. The intense rains had left everything incredibly, overwhelmingly, whatthefuckingly flooded. Every trail we headed down would start as dry single track, which would give way to soupy mud, and end in waist-deep water. It was awesome. Eventually we had hiked/waded our bikes so far the only option left to escape floodwaters was a straight shot up through brush-covered hillside.
We thought it would be a relief.
What followed was almost an hour of us desperately trying to find traction on this incredibly muddy slope. Most of that time was taken up trying to get the loaner fat-bike from Full Cycle up— those huge tires come at a price. It felt like every two feet of climbing came with one foot of sliding back down. By the time we had made it up with all our bikes I couldn’t tell if I was more covered with mud or mosquito bites. I’m still itching the latter.
So, before any of this happened we came across a dude and his dog who were legit in the middle of being rescued from the flooded river. In hindsight we ought to have agreed that this was going to be a terrible, dangerous idea and not worth the risk. But screw that right? What’s the point of being somewhere new and amazing without risk?
It’s for the reward, honestly. Cyclists love some kind of payoff for suffering. Sometimes it’s for bragging rights, sometimes it’s for the gram or blog post (oh…), but in this case our hour-long short cut gave us a straight shot to one of Minneapolis’s secluded white sand beaches. Splash fights and general corn dogging gave us a shot to cool off, clean up, and realize that we were all starving now.