Westward Bound: The Great Greyhound Adventure of 2007. Part 6

I realize that I left off my tale at a critical and cliffhanging moment. To recap, and keep you all from having to read back over my first 6 posts:

I took the bus cross country last summer, and my last post left off with me in Bemidji, MN, and my bag on it’s own journy to North Dakota. I’m not going to recap more than that, so you might have to go back and refresh yourself on the status of my journey, because here we go!

This was the first and only time that we stayed in a Motel or Lodging of any sort that was not a friend or relative’s house/backyard. Each of us takes a much needed shower and prepares for the next day when we hope to meet with Curling Legend, Pete Fenson.

I also decide that the next day I will try to make it to church. It’s Tuesday, and I missed Mass on Sunday, so I wanted to try to make it up a little bit. That and I figured a blessing wouldn’t be ill advised given the nature of our trip. I decide that with the weather being so nice, the 12 block walk to the church wouldn’t be so bad.

I awake the next morning to find that a cruel practical joke has been played on me. The wonderful 79 degree, breezy weather, has turned into a 50 degree rainy, gusty nightmare. Most people would just have stayed in, gotten some extra sleep and waited for it to get a little nicer out - the main goal of the day being for us to see Pete Fenson. However, if you’ve deduced anything about my personality, you might well realize that the nature of the task at hand being so difficult also makes it that much more desirable for me. Hence my taking a bus to Seattle. So I grab my rain poncho, which I had packed in my carry-on bag, thank goodness, and set out to go to church. The walk was very cold, very gusty, and it didn’t quite rain, rather, it was that annoying misty rain that just makes you colder. Lake Bemidji, which, the day before, had been serene and pictaresque, now had White Caps from the wind. I kept on.

Eventually I made it to the church, attended the 40 minute weekday mass, and met with the Pastor afterwards, telling him my story thus far. A little old lady overhears me, learns that I walked all this way, and offers me a ride back to the motel. I also learned that the Bairds (other members of the Curling team) are parishioners at this church. Once I get back to the motel, the weather has evened out a bit more. It’s still cold and windy, but not really that rainy anymore. We set out walking…again…to try and meet Pete Fenson before our bus comes into town. We make it to Dave’s Pizza to find no one there. We decide to wait, if he’s coming in, he’ll have to pass by us. So we wait

and wait.

and wait.

We are close to despair. I decide to call the restaurant. Maybe he’s inside, and has been this whole time. Who should answer….but PETE FENSON himself!

He says he’ll unlock the front and we can come in for a second. We are both overjoyed. He turns out to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He said that since he’s won the bronze medal, there are people who have come by just to say hi, and to meet him. Due to our perseverence and weird semi-worship of the curling legend, this moment is born:

Yes that’s me, for those of you who have not seen what I look like. I now have short hair and have lost some weight.

We walk back to the bus stop, triumphant, and wait for our bus.

The bus comes, and lo and behold, my bag is there. We load onto the bus and make our way back the same way we came to St. Cloud (where the movie Juno took place) and get back on course to the west. Our next major stop is Billings MT. And nothing really happens between now and then. We travel through Fargo, which is just as desolate and depressing as you would think, and then I slept through all of North Dakota - thank God. I don’t actually SEE my bags until we get to Billings, as I was relying on the word of the bus driver, who said he got my bag for me. At which time, I sadly discover that my peanut butter, which I had backed in the mesh part of my back pack, is missing. Fortunately this was the lone casualty of the trip.

Tune in next time, because even though you think Montana will probably be boring…it…isn’t (?) No seriously, I got some good stuff coming up. At least now we’re back in the swing of things.

~ by aeqvitas on June 16, 2008.