The Awkward Pose

July 3, 2015 –Clear, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 85

Miles to Date: 3,545

States to Date: 16

If I keep having days like today for a year, I’m going to have to create new superlatives. The touring today was phenomenal!

I woke before my alarm, fully refreshed, ate my six Kaloches and a pint of cottage cheese, drank a cup of cabin coffee, and was on the road before seven a.m. All day on U.S. 385, I road number I know well because U.S. 385 goes through Levelland, Texas, where I lived in 1978 – only 800 miles away! The morning was cool, the breeze light, the road empty, the shoulder perfect, the slope downhill.

The roadside was gorgeous until I got to Pringles, which has a cool bicycle sculpture amidst all kind of junkyards. Just when I was thinking that man has no respect for nature, I came to a huge section of blighted trees, and realized that sometimes nature has no respect for nature as well. The bug infestations in the Dakotas are severe this year.

I got to Wind Song National Park before nine. Never heard of the place before, but it’s majestic. Teddy Roosevelt made it our seventh National Park – who knew? Wind Song’s main feature is an immense cave – 212 miles long. I skipped that, as I am not into caves, and spent most of my time adoring the Prairie Dog towns and keeping a keen eye out for Bison. They roam free in the park – I had to cross a cattle guard getting in and out – and are notoriously unfriendly to cyclists. I didn’t want a race with a bison, and thankfully avoided it.

Arrived in Hot Spring’s too early for lunch but found a BBQ place that was willing to dish me up, which was good as I had no sure services for the next fifty miles.

US 385 follows the Falls Creek out of Hot Springs, which terminates in a calendar worthy cascade of rocks and rapids. And then, quick as that, the Black Hills are over and the Prairie regains the upper hand. A mile beyond the falls, the scene behind was mountains, ahead only plain.

Lucky me, there was a cafe in Oerlich, and so I took a break in the hottest part of the day. The place was empty when I walked in. “Where is everybody?” I asked. “Haying,” the waitress responded. A few other guys trickled in, but she was right. On my way out of town I saw several combines churning hay. Someone even rowed the grass along the highway, which makes good sense. Might as well put that grass along the road to use.

Southwest South Dakota is one giant federal playground where beer is easy and gambling machines are rampant. What isn’t National Park is National Forest, and what isn’t National Forest is National Grassland. The roads are terrific; the number of RV’s too high to count. So it was easy to spot the Nebraska border, where the four lane divided highway turned into two-lane blacktop and the State Line Casino marked the divide.

No worry, a narrower 385 is still plenty for the scant traffic, and the Nebraska landscape is even more fantastic than South Dakota’s. If cycling the Dakota’s is like riding on the crest of the earth, Nebraska is skimming across an immense marble batter. The green grass and yellow goldenrod swirl in and around each other in dizzying swales. The road disappears to a thread. The afternoon turned blistering hot, the horizon melted into a blurry haze. I spun the last twenty miles to Chadron in a dreamscape.

Fortunately, I stayed alert. For although I avoided stray Bison at Wind Song, I came upon a large white animal roaming the side of the road ahead of me: a small horse, a large dog, an albino burro? I slowed to a crawl; thankful the wind wasn’t sending my scent its way. Eventually it crossed the road and disappeared behind a cattle guard. I approached, keeping my eye in its direction. When I came along the guard, the mammoth canine turned and came at me. I pedaled like crazy; thankful a pickup was coming over the rise between the huge creature and me. I kept my max speed for a half-mile or more before finally looking back. All clear.

 I arrived in Chadron at a nice motel, got cool and clean, walked over to Safeway and bought fried chicken and muffins, which I ate outdoors. Took a walk through the quiet prairie town. People were setting off all kinds of firecrackers. I particularly liked this gracious old house with a cool greenhouse/garage. When I got back to my motel, the innkeeper was holding court in his gazebo with beers all around. Back to my room, I fell asleep amidst the sounds of rockets red glare smack in the middle of this remarkable country. Happy Birthday USA!

July 2, 2015 –Big clouds, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 43

Miles to Date: 3,460

States to Date: 15

I woke early, enjoyed an awesome smoothie with greens and berries, and pedaled up along Skyline Drive in Rapid City with my hosts Sherry and Fred. They took me about five miles to the where local roads give out to U.S. 16, and I proceeded on toward Mount Rushmore. Today’s ride was short on distance but long on climb: over 5,000 vertical feet. The going was slow, the scenery spectacular. I stopped for breakfast in Keystone, a Mexican place that had a breakfast buffet with great huevos rancheros, pancakes, and fresh fruit. Fully fueled, I pedaled up to Mount Rushmore.

I had learned in Rapid City that the facilities at Mount Rushmore were much changed since I was last there, in 1982. The words ‘parking structure’ gave me worry. But I found the National Monument much better organized, capable of handling crowds, and offering more ways to appreciate the four Presidents than previously. Of course, I was predisposed to like the changes when the parking lady waved my bicycle in without the $11 parking fee.

Thirty-three years ago, we came upon the sculptures through winding rustic paths. Now there is a grand, axial concourse with a series of portals that create a procession: from parking to information, along a parade of state flags, to an overlook plaza that sits on top of the museum and in front of the amphitheater. The architecture is simple but monumental. It accommodates a huge summer crowd without competing with the sculptures. They’ve also added a nice winding path that allows people who can handle 250 steps to get very close to the base. I was happy to see so many people take that trail, sad to hear so much hoofing along the way. Americans sure are fat.

By noon the sky was threatening, so I mounted my trusty Surly and headed toward Custer, with a brief check on the Crazy Horse monument, still in construction. I had a reservation at a cabin court in Custer that turned out to be two cuts above my usual fare, so I was happy to arrive early, for although my ride had not been long, it had been hard.

 I took an evening stroll through Custer, which had live music and other July 4^th weekend festivities in progress. I bought a six pack of Kolaches, South Dakota’s state pastry, to heat up for breakfast in the morning. Custer is a tourist town, but like my cabin, a cut above many.

 I like the bison that command each corner. I got home in time to watch the sun set from my porch swing and was in the sack by nine. I’m such a party guy.

July 1, 2015 –Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 5

Miles to Date: 3,417

States to Date: 15

I spent the day tootling around Rapid City, one of the nicest places I have been. I slept until almost nine; my warmshowers hosts were all gone by the time I awoke. I let myself out and pedaled downtown, where I found Jessica at her Canvas 2 Paint shop for a proper goodbye. I also stopped by her bike shop next door. Downtown Rapid City has actual scale sculptures of al the Presidents on each corner, a nice touch that animates the place.

I had a morning interview with Rob Timm, Director of the Chiesman Center for Democracy. Afterward I enjoyed lunch at the VFW, a super good deal and an opportunity to talk with veterans and active service men. After lunch I met folks on the sidewalk, including Gerard Black Elk, a fascinating Native American. I headed out the Mount Rushmore Highway, passed a few ‘Think’ signs that mark roadside fatalities and are absolutely everywhere in South Dakota. I stopped at Mostly Chocolates, where Jessica’s children work, said Adieu to them and enjoyed a couple of delicious chocolate covered Oreos. I might not be cycling much, but my appetite is still big.

I spent a few hours catching up on the Internet and then spun the short but incredibly steep ride up Woodside Drive. Rapid City has a steep ridge that divides the city, and my second warmshowers hosts live in a solar house that overlooks a gorgeous canyon. Sherry and Fred prepared delicious fajitas with homemade salsa and offered chocolate-dipped macaroons for dessert. They cycled the West Coast in 2008 and gave me many good tips for my upcoming route

June 30, 2015 – Overcast, Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 56

Miles to Date: 3,412

States to Date: 15

There are several ways to get from Spearfish to Rapid City, depending on how hard a person wants to cycle. I opted for challenging morning and easy afternoon, which proved a good plan. Instead of taking the roads parallel to I-90 from Spearfish to Sturgis, I climbed U.S 85 for six miles, and then took the steep descent into Deadwood. It wasn’t my favorite climb, but then there’s no such thing as a ‘favorite climb’. When I turned east on US 14A from Deadwood to Sturgis I was treated to one of the nicest rides of my journey, through a canyon of tall pines, exposed stone, a loud brook and colorful wildflowers. Even the grey day couldn’t detract from their splendor. More than worth the uphill climb.

I got to Sturgis by eleven. The town is bustling with construction; the 75th motorcycle rally is less than a month away and they are expecting one million visitors! I found the offices of the famous Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, which is actually an entire city department. Tammy Bohn had great insights into tomorrow, but more importantly, we became fast friends and after an hour together when I left exchanged hugs all around.

I enjoyed the pulled pork special at Bob’s Family Restaurant and then headed to Rapid City. This time I opted for the Sturgis Road, which mirrors I-90 but has plenty of its own character. The I-90 corridor from Sturgis to Rapid City is developing fast, and the mix of ranches, campgrounds, golf courses, housing developments and RV superstores is fascinating. After spending a week in farming communities with declining population, I spent some pedal time considering why an area focused on tourism can be expanding so fast. It takes fewer and fewer people to turn out commodities, so agricultural population is waning. Meanwhile we crave more and more exotic experiences (call me Exhibit A), so outdoors oriented places like the Black Hills are growing.

I arrived in Rapid City by three, with only a few scattered showers to keep me cool. I took a McDonalds Internet break (none of those in North Dakota) and got to my warmshowers host’s house shortly after six. Jessica and I sat on her back patio for hours talking and eating and drinking local beer while her three children and their friends came and went. The night sky was glorious until a flash thunderstorm finally sent us to indoors.

June 29, 2015 – Sunny, 95 degrees

Miles Today: 84

Miles to Date: 3,365

States to Date: 15

Buffalo, SD was hopping at 6 a.m. with guys wanting to play in dirt. When I came down early for breakfast at the Tipperary Motel, two Mexican-American laborers were having breakfast before heading out to dig the foundation for a carport and three paleontologists from Toronto were packing a pick-up with supplies to drive ten miles outside of town and scrape at fossils all day. On the way out of town I passed the five dirt bikers I met at lunch yesterday, rousing from their night of sleep in the park and preparing to ride their bikes in mud again all day. I strive to stay vertical on pavement, but maybe I’m missing something.

Still, I was happy to avoid dirt in the longest unsupported ride of my trip – seventy miles without a soul through a gorgeous Western landscape under still, sweltering skies. Folks in Buffalo told me there was a gas station twenty miles out. When I came to Reding I found a collection of three-dozen abandoned vehicles, two mobile home shells, and a small building with the words ‘Pop and snacks’ painted on the side. I propped my bike in the structure’s shade and entered. No one. Just the remnants of a Post Office and a well-stocked refrigerator with water, pop, and tea. I drank a tea and left a buck and my card on the counter.

Then I pedaled for fifty miles; spinning, singing, and enjoying the amazing countryside; free-grazing herds of cattle and sheep, narrow creeks, and broad plains. Not a cloud in the sky except for the bed toupee poofs above distant buttes. At one point I stopped to absorb the silence. Beyond a distant butte I heard a chorus of cattle, their bellows like ancestral vibrations.

The shoulder was rough, so I kept to the road as much as possible, which meant a lot of ‘defensive friendliness’ in the form of waving to everyone in both directions. It’s easier to hear oncoming vehicles, especially after they pass, than the ones approaching from behind. Ever so slowly, the buttes were replaced by the outline of distant mountains.

I rolled into Belle Fourche before two, which was good time. I pedaled along Main Street looking for a cafe, but instead found the Green Bean Coffeehouse, which made a pleasant stop for a few hours. I left about five to cycle the fifteen miles to Spearfish.

Belle Fourche is the demarcation between barren plains and the Black Hills. Suddenly there was topography, trees, and many more signs of life. Spearfish is a cool ranching turned college and tourist town. My warmshowers host, Chad, lives in a century old house that has had dozens of additions large and small. I had the entire basement, complete with real pine paneling and a stone fireplace, to myself. We walked down the hill to a bar where that served great microbrew drafts; my first beer in week. I slept like a log in my cool basement with the windows open and gentle breeze all night.

June 28, 2015 – Sunny, 95 degrees

Miles Today: 46

Miles to Date: 3,281

States to Date: 15

Bowman has more going for it on Sunday morning than Saturday night. The Sunday church crowd at Jabbers Family Restaurant was large, well–scrubbed, and looked like they’d enjoyed many ‘Meat Lover’s Skillet’ breakfasts. I certainly enjoyed mine.

It was 10:30 before I began my short ride to Buffalo, South Dakota. Even the wind took a rest day. Sixteen miles in I crossed the state line and the topography changed. No more farms, just grazing land and buttes without a spec of shade. Riding was easy and I was happy to find Suzette’s Crooked Creek Bar along the road in Ludlow. Suzette is the owner and bar mistress, her husband runs the grille, and she has all cyclists sign her counter, in exchange for free pop. I stayed an hour because Suzette and her place were tons of fun.

My last twenty miles were uneventful. Buffalo, population 390, is the smallest town I’ve stayed to date. City Hall (which is also Police and Fire and Water) is a metal building. But 3 Saloons was open on Sunday afternoon with good burgers, beer and Internet. I met a group of guys who were doing a four day motorcycle off-road crawl. They were wearing full cover suits and were a heck of a lot hotter than me. The Tipperary Motel, named for a bucking horse and not the place in Ireland, is very nice, though it’s the first motel that had a cattle grate at its driveway. I had to walk my bike across the threshold.

June 26, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 7

Miles to Date: 3,152

States to Date: 14

Rest day in Dickinson. I spent the morning relaxing at the Oasis, my new favorite motel. Had a terrific motel breakfast – with five kinds of fresh fruit – and met other guests. They prayed for me; I am getting used to that. I had a 1 p.m. meeting with Blaine Hoffman of Whiting Oil and Gas where I got a great overview of the North Dakota energy business, the recent boom, and how it is settling down. On the way back to the Oasis I scoped out Dickinson, a city divided in time and space by I-94. The north side is all new – big box stores, chain restaurants the usual highway motels. The south side is the original town; a gird of streets with small houses and a dusty looking downtown. The main east/west route parallels the railroad tracks and is more about automobiles than people. I spotted one restaurant within walking distance of the Oasis, which looked no better or worse than any other.

When I got back to my room, tomorrow was sitting there, staring me in the face! Zachery Shiner is a cyclist traveling from Chicago to Seattle who landed at warmshowers hosts one night behind me through Wisconsin and Minnesota. He wrote a clever email response to my question (I am tomorrow), which inspired me to give him my North Dakota itinerary and offer to warmshowers host him in my motel if he caught up along the way. Today he did, and so I had a fellow cyclist to share the evening. We walked to the sole restaurant, had some mighty good fried chicken, and set up a cot for Zach in my room. My first opportunity to host a warmshowers person; it always feels good to give back.

June 25, 2015 – Sun and rain, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 97

Miles to Date: 3,145

States to Date: 14

Today’s the day! I am now on officially on my longest bike trip to date. In 2011 I cycled 3,050 miles from Denver to Boston in 42 days (blog links). I averaged over 72 miles a day. This trip, due to its length and my question, my objective is 50 miles per day; though so far, due to my good weather, I’m ahead of that target.

The 3,050-mile milestone is a good point to consider how bicycle travel has changed for me in the past four years. There are many similarities. Cafes serve uniformly solid food. My hunger is often more persistent than my interest in food; sometimes I just can’t bother eating more. I still manage to never pay more than $100 a might for a motel room, and I like the $50 rooms better. Cows still like me; every head of every herd turns to watch me pass. And Murphy’s Law of Wind still applies – the wind is always in my face.

But there are significant differences. The biggest is technology. Four years ago I carried a camera, a flip phone and a parcel of paper maps. My iPhone 5S replaces all that. Last trip I rolled into a town and hoped for a motel, now I have reservations. Considering my question, I spend much more time on logistics than last trip. I contact warmshowers hosts and organizations to interview three to five days in advance. It’s a constant stream of inquiry, scheduling, and thank you’s; all impossible without handy Internet access.

Indians named Patel have cemented their lock on the independent motel market, and moved into the low-end chains. Outside of the Upper Mid-west, Patel’s rule my lodging world, and have done a lot to ramp up the typical Super 8. Why aren’t they in North Dakota, where there are so many jobs? Four years ago I managed to stay in independent places over 90% of the time. Now, there are many fewer left; about half my motel time is in chains. However, half my nights aren’t in motels at all – thanks to warmshowers. Although the site has been around over twenty years ago, I learned about it just before my trip and meeting so many gracious, incredible people has rocketed my personal experience and deepened the discussions of my question. Warmshowers takes the ‘economy’ out the ‘sharing economy’. It’s just about sharing. I’m warmshowers biggest fan.

The changes are significant, but the fundamental truths of cycle touring are intact. More motorists are nice than not. The two-wheel view of the country is amazing, and I meet people at their best.

_________

Despite the banner mileage, my day progressed with the challenges and rewards North Dakota offers. The Ridge Motel in Mandan didn’t even offer coffee, so I stopped at the adjacent convenience store. Amazing to see the diet of oil workers: a fistful of 20 ounces Mountain Dews, a pack of Marlboro’s and a bag of chips. I am such a lightweight with my trial mix and Diet Coke.

My proposed route of vintage highways that paralleled I-94 went bust after three stints on gravel. Beyond New Salem (with name painted on hillside in typical Western fashion) I buckled under and rode the Interstate forty miles. No services anywhere, not a lick of shade, not much fun. I took a break under a highway overpass. How lame.

Since there was no place to stop, I made good time. But I needed a real break and the afternoon sky threatened, so I exited at Richardton where Google cited a cafe. No cafe, but something much better: a newish grocery store with a prepared food section, seating and free Wi-Fi. If Whole Foods entered the rural market, this is what it would look like, though they’d probably modify the special of the day: two fried chicken breasts, mashed potatoes with gravy, fried rice, whole wheat roll and fruit chunks for dessert. $7.49. The food lady told me, “There are vegetables in the fried rice.” Maybe three peas and two diced carrots.

I stayed at Springfield Market three hours while storms swirled all around but never quite hit. When the western sky looked as good as it was going to get, I tackled the last 24 miles. This was great riding, on a rural road with a nice breeze and an incredible sky. For ten miles my poker straight path headed right to the clear spot between two storms. As I approached, the northern storm crept into my path and I got rained on for a few miles. Then all cleared and I was dry when I arrived in Dickinson.

I will be here two nights, and was pleasantly surprised when my motel on the unpromising main drag turned out to be the BEST of the trip! Dual access room, for easy bike entry, cookies in the evening, nice dining room and full breakfast tomorrow. There’s an architectural rendering of the motel from the 1960’s in the lobby, when it must have been considered the height of style. The proprietress was very nice, though she dodged my question. Most people in North Dakota do. They acknowledge when I ask it, but act like I can’t possibly be directing it to them.

June 24, 2015 – Overcast, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 74

Miles to Date: 2,948

States to Date: 14

Passing storms through the night left a calm quiet morning. I pedaled west, and then south to Bismarck with great ease. The ponds on the side of the road were like glass, the fowl floating on the surface like they’re on vacation.

I cycled past Center Line Road; I am halfway through North Dakota. It looks more and more like the west, wide swales and more arid land. I came upon a Bureau of Reclamation project and know I am truly in the West. After seeing one, I realized how much engineering there is in this seemingly wild land: not only the straight roads and long power lines, but also the ponds along the road, usually at intersections. They’ve developed tall grass and a natural look, but they’re not natural.

38 miles in I stopped for a late breakfast at Wilton. The County Line cafe was quiet mid morning. As I ate my bacon and eggs a solid guy walked in, landed at a table and ordered with a sigh. The waitress sat down and drew him out. His wife of 56 years is in the hospital with cancer. “I walk into the house and the quiet hits me. I know it hasn’t really hit me yet, but it will.” Kelly told him to come anytime he feels alone and suggested she and her children would come visit him. It was an intimate scene for a public place, but touching. I was too close to pretend I didn’t hear, so I introduced myself to the man and expressed sympathy. I didn’t ask him about tomorrow.

When I came out the weather had shifted. The wind picked up, clouds gathered, and light ran fell on my twenty miles to Bismarck. By the time I arrived at the North Dakota Heritage Center the weather lifted. I spent the afternoon interviewing Beth Campbell, Visitor Coordinator, viewing the exhibits and visiting the State Capital Building, surely the most unique in the land. Built in the 1930’s after the original capital burned, the Deco structure has no dome and isn’t even symmetrical. Imagine Rockefeller Center transported to the Prairie and used for government offices. I ran into James McPherson, AP Reporter, who gave me more background on this boom. “You have to see it to believe it. There’s nothing else like it anywhere in the country. Of course, booms, by their nature, go bust.”

I pedalede through downtown Bismarck, followed the bike trail along the Missouri River, and crossed over to Mandan. For dinner I tried Fleischkeuchle, a seasoned hamburger in a puff pastry. Once is an experience; I don’t need to order it again.

June 23, 2015 – Blue skies, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 67

Miles to Date: 2,974

States to Date: 14

North Dakota is a big land but a small world. I met the same woman in two cafes a day apart. Then yesterday, while taking a break at a country church, I watched big trucks haul hay to a nearby clearing, where a huge funnel machine accepted the load and forced it into giant white plastic tubes, over one hundred feet long, that were clipped into protected bales. This morning, at motel breakfast, a guy approaches me, “Are you the guy on the bike at the church yesterday?” Lyle Orth and his two hands, from South Africa, had seen me while hauling hay. Lyle owns the baling equipment and contracts from farm to farm. Farmers get three or four hay crops a year, which they cut in the field. Lyle and his crew do the rest.

I was on the road by 7:30. Sixty-five miles straight down North Dakota Route 200 to McClusky sounds so easy, but wind foils that notion. Still, I didn’t suffer any of yesterday’s frustration. I had all day and gave it over to pedaling slow and steady. Google told me there were towns with services at 14 and 28 miles out, though I was prepared to go the distance. One of the odd things about North Dakota geography is that highways don’t go through towns; they go near them. A highway in Ohio or Wisconsin almost always turns into Main Street. A North Dakota town might edge on a highway, or even be a mile off. I bypassed the 14 miles town; too soon to need a break, and did the same at 28 miles when Bowdon was a mile off Route 200. When I’m working this hard, I need a good reason to lengthen my route.

The other geographic challenge is that the scale of North Dakota is huge. A water tower in Minnesota signals a town three miles away. That town might be five, even seven miles off in North Dakota. Landscape features hang in front of me for a long time. By mile 40 I was seeking shade, just to sit down, eat a bar, and have water. I saw a shape on the horizon that looked like a church. As I pedaled near I realized it was just a configuration of trees around a town too small to even have a water tower. But better than a church or a water tower, Hurdston has Dairy King, where I had a burger basket, Diet Coke, ice cream cone, and a cool break.

I resumed before three and got to McClusky by six. The land got more varied, more Western, with many shallow lakes (marshes?) along the road, full of fowl. The motel is out of town, so I stopped by the three-aisle grocery and got cereal and milk. I always crave crunchy on the road, and this will do for dinner and breakfast.