Lanesboro

Where is Lanesboro, and what is so special about it? To find out, we ventured out of the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. Our destination was the Lower Right Hand Corner of Minnesota and their smooth bicycle trail which has been in existence for over twenty years.

Lanesboro is the centerpiece of this tarmac trail system. It is an enchanting enclave surrounded by limestone bluffs with the Root River running through it on its way to the great Mississippi.

“What happens in Lanesboro stays in Lanesboro.” So say the T-shirts on sale there. This must refer to cash receipts from visiting tourists, because Lanesboro is an economic tourist engine-- like the Wisconsin Dells but much more quaint and classy. And it’s all because of a bike trail.

The town also draws tattooed Harley riders and scantily clad river tubers who seek the cool ripples of the Root River. On Saturdays and Sundays it resembles Lake Geneva, Wisconsin with its cacophonous parade of two and four wheeled chrome machines.

But the majority of folks arrive with bike racks on the backs of there SUVs and vans. They come as families and friends to ride the Root River Trail. They come, as we did, to enjoy the après biciclette when the bikes are in the barn, the sun is over the yardarm, and extraordinary wine is lovingly uncorked. They seek the succulent slightly pink legs of lamb arched delicately over beds of couscous graced with mango jalapeno chutney. Peddle pusher or not, this is gastronomic heaven.

Our appetites were fed by the fresh out-of-doors, as we rose early in the morning sparkle to ride bicycles. During midday, we poked into an array of smart shops and lunched on a shady deck overlooking the river. Following lunch and the Schell’s pilsner, we napped in the afternoon with Wallace Stegner’s “Angle of Repose” by our bedside.

In the early evening, we rose to observe Doctor Mike “Sparky” Perry assemble a great wood fire on the lawn and sample the wines he had carefully chosen for this magical weekend.

Who says bicycle riders are boisterous barbarians? Admittedly, we were a loud as we pulled our vinyl Adirondacks around the roaring “Sparky” Perry fire. As the vino flowed from our throats to our brains, we leapt from our seats to dance and chant like Sioux warriors.

Here we were on a splendid weekend-- long married couples sharing our love for life and cycling in this special place. I say long married, because we couples together represented over 200 years of devotion.

Thanks go to our beloved Commodore to for arranging our weekend in Lanesboro. We may have been too hard on him of late complaining of his appalling routes through the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. But he showed himself to be a cultured gentleman along the banks of the Root River in Lanesboro, Minnesota.