Next stop is Preston, the Fillmore County Seat in the heart of Bluff County in Southeastern Minnesota. Our campground is in a type of bowl surrounded by hills of pure natural beauty and is one half mile from Forestville State Park which offered us free entry by bike. The view of the beautiful Root River Valley was breathtaking. Just knowing we have access to over 50 miles of paved bike trails in and around the community made us very happy campers.
Lack of TV and cell phone reception seems a fair trade off for countless bird species and wild life, not to mention a river filled with trout so close we could hear its flow. On one of our evening walks, we met our “next-door neighbor” a mile down the road. He spoke with us for at least 20 minutes while at the same time commanding a gorgeous horse and explaining the psychology of horse training.
This is not an isolated incident. We ask someone for directions or go to the post office and we’re in for a 15 to 20 minute conversation. This is not a complaint. We love it! (Must I remind you that we lived for many years in New York City? Enough said!) The people of Minnesota are very welcoming and full of helpful information. Talking to the local garage owner about working on our car, we learned of the town named Fountain which has the distinction of being the "Sinkhole Capital of the World." The southeastern Minnesota community has claimed the sinkhole title since 1991 and no one has contested it. It is estimated that there are at least 500-600 sinkholes in the surrounding area. "It's starting to get more recognized all the time," he said.
People have been trying to fill them with all sorts of things, but they just keep sinking into the caves below. The subject of selling such land led us to ask about disclosure laws to protect the buyer. Response: “There aren’t any.” We never thought about sinkholes before, but now we see them everywhere. Could they be the half-sister of the crevasses found in glaciers?
For tourists, Fountain offers a picnic table and charcoal grill near the rim of one sinkhole, while another sports a wooden viewing platform for a close up look into the hole. And what do visitors make of it? "They just jump up and down."
This was all very intriguing, but what about our truck? “Oh, we don’t work on trucks!”
One day, passing through a little town (well, all the towns are little in this area of 300 to 1,000 inhabitants) we stopped at the post office for stamps and asked the lady where to find Amish produce directly from the farm. She started writing directions, but decided it was better to show us on a map. We followed her to the back room where a large map with red dots hung on the wall. Ann asked: what are these dots? Oh, they represent every house in the town’s postal route, she replied. The distance between each dot was amazing; there was at least a mile or more between homes. That’s quite a long way to go for a cup of sugar!
In a few minutes we arrived at an Amish farm and were greeted by a teenage brother and sister. We bought baby lettuce salad, green onions and asparagus, all hand picked from the garden just for us. You can’t get any fresher than that - all natural and at a very reasonable price. We also got eggs, homemade strawberry rhubarb preserves and baskets made by Amish children. Another sibling walked by with a three day old horse and asked if we would like to take a photo. Indeed we would, and so we did. Then the father returned from the fields and spoke with us a good while about the Amish and farm life before returning to his chores. We were really pleased by the whole experience and also a little saddened at leaving this part of the world behind. It must be noted that all the produce from this farm was scrumptious.
After a wonderful few days in this mid-west America surrounding, we’re off to Mitchell, South Dakota. A long 300 miles of straight, flat, monotonous road with not one turn or bend. This will be another story for cooking my way across North America
