David Wethern and family

Part II: Red Wing, Minnesota

On the short drive from Diamond Bluff to Red Wing, MN, I kept my eyes peeled for the Border Lounge in Hager City, as per my friend Scot’s recommendation. Alas, it was closed, depriving me of the chance to spend my Sunday afternoon watching strippers. Maybe next time.

Driving over the Mississippi River, I re-entered Minnesota and pulled into Red Wing, which was a stop on the Sea Wing’s journey and the home of the majority of the Sea Wing’s passengers. Red Wing is a neat little place with a quaint downtown and lots of 1800s architecture. It seems like a nice place to spend a weekend.

While surfing the internet, I’d seen a photograph of a plaque commemorating the Sea Wing disaster, and in the background was a sign that said, “Levee Park.” I thought this might be in Red Wing, and I figured that, if I could find the river, I’d find Levee Park. I was right.

I loaded up on literature at the Red Wing visitor center, which lives in an old train depot, then I walked over the railroad tracks into the park. Immediately inside the entrance sits the Sea Wing plaque.

I sat on a park bench facing the plaque and watched other visitors stop and read it, learning about a tragic historical event for which my ancestor was partially responsible.

After leaving Levee Park, I hoped to visit the Goodhue County Historical Society, but my path was blocked by construction, and I couldn’t find a way around it. I thought, Aw, screw it, I’ll just head to Lake City now.

Part III: Lake City, Minnesota

Passengers on the Sea Wing

The Sea Wing’s destination was Camp Lakeview, near Lake City, where passengers from Red Wing disembarked for military exhibitions and a picnic. A squall capsized the Sea Wing shortly after it left Lake City, and most of the people who rushed to help came from there.

The wreckage of the Sea Wing

Driving through Lake City, I felt like I was in Florida. It’s definitely a lake town, with a marina and tons of little condos that rent by the day or week. The only difference was that, instead of the Gulf, I was looking across the water at beautiful bluffs on the other side of a lake.

Bluff country is really gorgeous. Having grown up in a flat area like Louisiana, I always get a kick out of really three-dimensional places, whether it’s the vast and mountainous Alaska or this, more modest area with its bluffs. I’m awestruck by landscapes where you can look at the land miles in the distance, because the Earth is holding it up for you to see.

I saw a river boat named the Pearl of the Lake, which offered rides on Lake Pepin. I thought about taking it, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around the boat, and I just decided to walk along the shore instead, touching the water where some of my ancestors perished.

Oh, no! I sunk my toes in Lake Pepin! My family is cursed!

…

I hope that, for my next trip, I’ll be able to visit Itasca State Park and see the headwaters of the Mississippi River. I was very close to it while in Bemidji (which is the first city on the Mississippi), but never made it out there. Maybe it’d be a good camping trip. I feel like I should, since so much of my life is inextricably tied to this river. I was born at one end of it, and now I’m coincidentally living at the other end of it, coincidentally where I have family history.

Well, off to develop those rolls of film…