The Grand World Cruise To Minnesota?

With yet another unfortunate delay in boarding the Odyssey for our 3-1/2-year cruise around the world, our new friend, Laura, had invited us to join her on a visit to her brother for an uncertain period of time. Her brother, Jim, lives near where both he and Laura had grown up, south of Minneapolis.  Jim and his wife, Jen, live in a log home that had room for all of us to stay until the ship was ready to launch.

Laura had given me an idea of what to expect before we had all agreed that this pit stop made sense. The accommodations would be a treat for anyone who didn’t need the pampering of big city luxuries, a big beautiful log home on wide-open acreage, complete with trees and birds and landscaping that look like a magazine cover. The potential challenge was her blunt, rough around the edges brother who had a personality that could rub an overly sensitive person the wrong way. He was a former Marine who had transitioned into cybersecurity work after service. He was willing to express his opinion with expletives liberally inserted and had no need for people that pissed him off-and there were quite a few people that pissed him off. He has another side to him as well. He is also a serious cook, and the kitchen in that cabin belonged to him.

My thoughts were on several fronts. I had been in the Army, so that was a point of reference that garnered mutual respect. If we got along, it could be a really great time. If we didn’t, Laura said she could get us a rental car or hotel if it really went bad. The kitchen thing was right up my alley. I started putting together a list of things I could cook if he were to trust me with a skillet. The fact that we were okay to stay there for an open-ended period of time took the stress of housing options off my list in the event of a change in launch dates again. I felt the rewards outweighed the risks, and we always had an escape plan if needed.

After a long but nonstop flight from Dublin to Minneapolis, we went directly to baggage claim without going through customs. Dublin Airport has a system of having US flights complete the process before boarding the plane. It seemed odd, but it paid off on this end. Laura had reserved a rental car with express pickup. The whole thing took over an hour. They had forgotten to post the names of almost everyone who should just go to their car, so a long line was being served by one person. After that, getting out of the parking garage was a snafu because someone had rammed the exit gate and disabled it. After two laps around the place, we were guided out an entrance for the staff that was now a makeshift exit for all the renters. Again, I was reminded why I would rather be getting off and on my ship.

Decompression was about to begin. Out of the airport, onto the freeway, past the Mall of America. We were truly on our way. Out of the city. Off-ramp. Turn right at the silo. Past the sign that says, "No Through Traffic". Asphalt changes to gravel. Gravel changes to dirt. Cornfield on the right. Big pond with cattails on the left. The homemade sign saying Anglers Road marks the entrance. The bend in the road and the abundant pine trees and deciduous trees in full fresh green hide the three-story cabin in the woods that we had hoped would be our haven until our ship comes in. Or rather, our ship is ready to launch.

Our friend and travel companion, Laura, introduces us to her brother, Jim, and his wife, Jen. They give us both a friendly Minnesota welcome and say that if Laura likes us, we must be okay. Lucy and Prinni (short for Princess) introduce themselves with pants and licks as they hop up on us with their tails flapping into a blur. Lucy is a Belgian Malinois, and Prinni is a Beirl’s English Setter.

Jim's family has been in the business of hunting for years. He trains dogs and is a guide as well. These dogs are trained as bird dogs; they can flush out game and have been taught to have a "soft mouth" that won't ruffle a feather or bruise the flesh of a downed bird. In addition to the dogs, there are chickens and a cat running free here. The rabbits are in a mobile hutch that is moved repeatedly so that they can graze on fresh grass through the floor of their mobile home. This is a working farm where everybody earns their keep. I hope I can contribute too.

The rental car fiasco caused us to run a little late, so dinner is already done. Chef Jim has prepared for us a lovely salmon Alfredo. Laura said he can cook. Yes, he can. We talk a bit about cooking and what we might have while we are here. He has already picked out tomorrow’s main course and proudly displays it by hoisting a three-pound tomahawk ribeye from the refrigerator. Impressive piece of meat that deserves to be treated with respect. Little did I realize at the moment there were two more hiding out of sight.

After I made some suggestions about my preferred method of dealing with such mammoth chunks of meat, Jim called me out on it. I would be in in charge of the guest of honor for dinner tomorrow: Big Beef.

We talked about Army and Marine Corps life, maybe doing some shooting or fishing, but not until the terrible rain that had been flooding the area stopped for a couple of days. We finally agreed it had been a long day, and it was now after 3:00 AM, where we had started the day, and time for bed.

Early to bed, early to rise. We were up with the sun before the first call from the rooster. The clouds were wearing thin, and the eastern glow had a path to shine onto the big house in the woods. While Dusty sat on the deck watching the sun rise and waiting for birds to visit the mulberry tree, I took my bare feet for a walk into the yard, seeing different angles of the view. Of course, Prinni and Lucy were eager to flush a bird or chase a ball. It was a beautiful morning, and it felt like a safe place to pass the waiting time ahead.

After our second cup of coffee, Jim asked how we felt about Eggs Benedict. Easy answer: Of course! With eggs he had collected that morning, he showed me a shortcut to homemade Hollandaise sauce - in the microwave. The sauce was great, and the egg yolks were almost fluorescent orange. We forgot to add the ham, but it was so good that we didn’t notice until we were nearly done.

After breakfast, Jim asked if I wanted to see his acreage. We went out to his John Deere Gator side by side and tore off down the muddy trails, knocking down brush and clearing the overgrown trails as we went. Rabbits and even a pheasant got flushed up and scurried out of the way as we saw much of the thirty acres that kept him busy day in and day out. He was grateful for the chores as they kept life interesting and kept him moving. Damage from a hospital infection had taken a good chunk of his left shoulder. Most people would have cut back their activities or just quit, but the Marine motto "improvise, adapt, and overcome" was ingrained too deeply for that.

True to his word, the protein for the evening meal was put in my hands. My recipe for a big beef was to season it, then heat it slowly to about 125 degrees inside, then sear it in a hot cast-iron skillet. When I saw that there were not one, but three three-pound tomahawk ribeyes, the standard recipe went out the window. There was no pan that could handle all three. Even with the largest one in most homes, the foot-long bone would make searing them nearly impossible.

Plan B for this mountain of meat was to make it fit on a large baking sheet and when it reached 125 degrees, top it with compound butter and use the broiler. The science of the reverse sear cowboy ribeye was sound, and flame broiling gave me the sear I was looking for. With corn and salad to round out the meal, we ate like kings and barely consumed half of the meat. Leftovers became street tacos and taco salad over the next couple of days. The three bones were put aside for Lucy and Prinni.

When it wasn't raining, Dusty was focused on watching the birds come and go from the mulberry tree, and Jim got his chores done with an occasional hand from me. On one of the loops around the property, he pulled up next to a pile of decaying logs. Along one side of the top log, there were mushrooms growing - lots and lots of golden oyster mushrooms. It was time to harvest for the freshest mushroom soup I'd ever had in my life.

The recipe was similar to the clam chowder recipe from my mom: bacon, onion, mushrooms, cream, chicken stock. All ingredients carefully measured… Not! The seat-of-the-pants cooking resulted in a rich, creamy soup that was full of the precious mushrooms that had been growing on a log less than an hour ago. And everything is better with bacon.

We talked about going fishing or shooting or something when things dried out, but the rain never completely left us. Instead, we hopped back into the Gator while Dusty and Jen worked on a 2000-piece puzzle. It was time to do a little beekeeping work.

If the hive gets too crowded, the colony will swarm and set up a new hive for more space. Jim gathered some new sections of prepared boards to add a row or two of apartment space for the hive. He piled pine needles into his smokepot and got it started with a glowing ember to calm the bees while he did his work. The hives ended up not needing any more maintenance than clearing the rapidly growing grass and berry bushes from around them.

But the pine smoke triggered a strong memory of camping with my mom and brothers on the way to visit Aunt Adrienne and Aunt Marianne in Sioux Falls and Minneapolis. Aunt Marianne’s ashes had been scattered in Bodega Bay along with my mom’s a dozen years ago. Now the only sister left was Adrianne in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 281 miles away.

When I talked about the memory and the surprising closeness of the aunt I hadn’t seen in fifty years, he said I should visit. He had a beautiful new blue Ford F-150 that he dearly loved. There was no way I’d be driving his baby, but he was happy to offer Jen’s Honda CRV.

With this possibility in mind, I messaged my cousin, Aunt Adrianne's son, who has a house in Florida. Did he think I should try to drive out and visit her? His response was a pleasant surprise. Come on out. She would love to see us. We could stay with him because he was at his other home in Sioux Falls seeing family and he had an extra room.

The rain had let up for the most part, and only parts of the route from Minneapolis to Sioux Falls were marked as a Flood Warning area. What could go wrong?

Road trip!