The objective of today’s adventure with a friend was Holman Field, a general aviation airport across the Mississippi from downtown St. Paul. It’s named after Northwest Airlines’ first pilot, who died performing stunts. The top picture shows the 1939 terminal where we popped in for a cold beer on a steamy hot day; the staff were incredibly welcoming of two grungy cyclists. The lower picture shows a gate area, where the stairs lead up to a U.S. Customs office.
Category: Twin Cities
Party like it’s 2026
Pushed my bike past preparations for a Prince singalong celebration later today; he would’ve been 68 this weekend. First Avenue is right nearby, the venue where he often performed and which he made famous in Purple Rain.
Building a pot of joy
Coastal Seafoods is probably the best seafood store in the Twin Cities, and it was conveniently on my walk home from my gig at the library this morning. Tonight’s menu: seafood stew with cod, halibut, peppers, onion, garlic, potatoes, tomatoes, saffron, coconut milk, squeezes of lime, and anything else I can think of to round it out.
Hidden grounds
I always award myself an achievement unlocked if I find a new coffee shop while cycling. My method is to pull over and Google my immediate surroundings. Today, in an industrial area of St. Paul, I came across Port 2050 Coffee hidden inside a large, repurposed industrial building. Some serious art books that I’d normally expect to see in a library were spread out on the community table.
Blasting the past
Almost sculptural, giant plastic shrouds enclose the power transmission towers across the river from where we live. Decades of rust are being blasted off, followed by fresh coats of paint. On the bottom left sits the inlet for the 1908 hydroelectric plant, still taking advantage of the natural drop of St. Anthony Falls.
Short-sleeved sunny cycle
Met a friend at the U, surrounded by sports stadiums. The weather was perfect for a ride to and around St. Paul’s Lake Como, followed by a cuppa from Dock & Paddle beside the lake.
A little under the freeway
Our colds persist. Going a little stir-crazy, I went for a walk, starting with this tunnel under the interstate near our home, dense with metaphors. Later, at a new bookshop, a barista with the snuffles brewed me a welcome Americano.
Malala and a melt
After an ELL session on Malala Yousafzai with an adult learner, I went to the nearby Minneapolis American Indian Center for a bison melt. Lawn signs out front promoted candidates in the upcoming tribal elections.
The ultimate frequent flyers
I finally got around to seeing “Crossing the Line: The Passport Re-Imagined” at Open Book, just three blocks from our home. Here, the artist has produced passports for migratory birds; the painted eggs represent individual birds, while the cloth satchel serves as a “nest” to hold the eggs and passports. On my own travels, I’ve often been in awe of migratory birds, especially at Farewell Spit on New Zealand’s South Island, where we observed bar-tailed godwits that migrate 7,500 miles to Alaska.
Destination Battle Creek Park
With a bit of help from light rail and a friend and his truck, we cycled trails east of St. Paul, including a nicely refurbished section leading to Battle Creek Park. We both almost stalled out at a couple of points as we tracked this stream uphill.