Back in the late 80s I was south-bound on a highway. The eastern Iowa countryside undulated past. Rolling hills, topped with growing corn and blue skies kept me company. The multi-lane road was briefly shared by a hog truck. It shoved past, also going south. Such things are very common in Iowa, which is a giant in hog production. As it ground by I glanced over.

The last time I saw the sign for Red Cliff I was thunderstruck by a suffocating fear. It appeared suddenly and took weeks to shake off. I was a bit nervous with going past that sign again, but this time there was no sense of terror. This time it was just a sign.

It was October of 2001. Dazzling trees zipped past as I drove north to Duluth. Dappled hillsides flowed by. Transformed leaves mingled with steady, green conifers. The sky had become dull grey, heavily overcast and thick with coming snow.