Drive To Alexandria, MN
I left Lake Itasca around 6 a.m., circling back toward the lake’s center to catch a different perspective of the headwaters of the Mississippi. I knew it would be empty at that hour. I sat by the water waiting for an eagle or some other exciting moment to unfold. Nothing did. Instead, I was left with pure stillness—the river just beginning its long journey to the Gulf of Mexico, water spilling softly over the rocks.
I made breakfast in the parking lot, said good morning to the woman cleaning the restrooms, and lingered until just after 10. That’s when the first non–park service vehicle arrived—a family of eight piling out of a big van. I knew calm wouldn’t return here again until evening, so I packed up and pointed the van south.
My plan was to take the scenic route down to Alexandria, starting with a redo of the Wilderness Drive loop on the edge of the park. The drive felt more alive this morning—hikers, cyclists, park staff moving around. I stopped a few times for photos, then joined the county backroads that tied me into Route 78, following the Otter Trail Scenic Byway.
The Otter Trail isn’t just a road—it’s a loop weaving through lakes, rolling farmland, and small towns, named after Otter Tail County, which itself is dotted with more lakes than any other county in the U.S. It’s the kind of place where you want to wander with no schedule, stopping for hikes, kayaking, or a café in a town square. That was my hope for the day.
Instead, the rain came. First a drizzle, then heavy bursts that broke up any chance of hiking. I pulled off in the middle of nowhere to photograph geese feeding in a recently harvested wheat field. They were jittery, never letting me get too close, slowly shuffling away as if I was up to no good. By the time I reached Battle Lake, it was pouring. From what I could see between wiper blades, the area must be beautiful to explore on foot or water. Just not today.
The rain lightened near a Zion Lutheran Church standing alone on a dirt road. I pulled over, crossed to the small cemetery, and wandered through names and dates carved into stone. A car came down the road and pulled off nearby. Out stepped a man in his late 70s, short, wiry, hands on his hips, just staring at me. No words, no nod, just staring. I ignored him, finished my photos, and headed back to the van. I gave him a wave—nothing. He finally got back in his car and turned around. Maybe he was checking up on me for the church, maybe there was a camera. Either way, it was odd.
The day unraveled from there. I had hoped for a good hike, lunch in a small town café, and plenty of photos, but the weather kept washing it all out. A few wrong turns and a bad GPS entry later, I finally found my way to my Harvest Host stay in Alexandria, MN.
Dan, the host, came out to greet me around 3:30. His two dogs bounded over and gave me a sniff before collapsing in the grass like old friends. Dan said he had to finish a project before guests arrived for the weekend, and left me to settle in. I hung out with the dogs for a while, then caught up on a few things in the van. By evening, the rain returned, this time with a booming lightning storm that shook the night sky.
I had wanted a hike. Instead, I got a day of storms, small encounters, and a reminder that some days on the road just don’t go as planned.