Bike Log

A Minnesota Welcome

Saturday, June 26 The open prairie quickly turned to rolling hills, zigzagging across many different country roads, even more lakes, and trees. Glorious, unplanted woods topping the knolls, lining the roads, trees as far as you can see. Even though I've gained a great appreciation for the prairies, there is something comforting about being surrounded by woods again.

Center of North America

Saturday, June 19 Rugby, ND is the geographic center of north america. I felt so centered for a short time. They also have a fun museum complete with prairie village, of original buildings that were moved there.

The cafe in front of the museum is no smoking and they don't even have a deep fryer. And there with a big smile as ever was Dave Webb, the biology professor. I've run into him every day or two. What's unusual about this meeting is the Rugby is a town of 3,000 with lots of restaurants, and his bike was out of sight in his motel room. We had a great conversation again, so much so that between the museum and lunch, I left Rugby at 4:30pm.

I've come down with the worst cold in memory. A sneezing, hacking, drooling, snotty, aching, stuffy cold. Riding in bittercold high winds was probably not the best treatment, so I had another early day, only 51 miles. I decided to get to a quiet county park in an wildlife preserve on a lake, even though there was no restaurant, and the park was at the end of a hilly gravel road.. The plan was to get 12 hours sleep. It looked deserted from the road. I didn't notice that it was Saturday night. As I descended the last gravely hill, I found party central, with residents who are so used to peace and quiet that they feel the need to drown out the bird songs with thumpa-thumpa music. The air and ground vibrated so much that the bike alarm went off. There were bonfires. Much alcohol was consumed, and much merryment was made. It wasn't so much that I wanted to sleep as much as I wish I could party. With shadows of flames flickering on the rain fly, I had a party with my vitamin C and handkerchiefs. Now I'm glad I brought three.

Yet there was a silver lining. They had a playground of the era from my childhood, from the time before attack-dog lawyers sued every time a kid skinned his knee. A tall slide, with "American" embossed in every step. This is the same design as the high dive at our old town pool. A tall swing that let's you touch the tree branches. With a flat board so you can jump off in mid-air. See-saws. A big spinning platform, designed so you can hook your legs on the braces to go really fast with your head flailing along the outside. I almost horfed. It was great fun.

Travel notes: Buffalo Lake Recreation Area, west of Esmond 4 miles. Boat launch, picnic shelters, old-fashioned playground, only water is from hand pump, quality is unknown. Nice setting; party central on weekends.

Esmond: for a town of under 200, Sodbellies is a great (and busy) cafe. They have excellent homemade sausage. The lunch buffet looks good.

Fargo wasn't filmed here

Wednesday, June 23 Fargo was filmed mostly around Minneapolis. The glacier that formed the land area that is North Dakota was the Wisonsin Glacier. The best flour made comes from North Dakota wheat, but it's called Minnesota Patent. Montana is even trying to claim the gumbo title. Their only joke is, well, judge for yourself:

"A South Dakotan, proud of his state's warmer climate, proposed that his state be named "Cota" and North Dakota be called "Over-Cota".

But North Dakotans are not a resentful bunch. While Seattle might fret about being considered this or that, Fargo is as proud as can be of Roger Marris. I'd rather be from Fargo, where you don't have to strangle 37 people or become a multibillionaire to get noticed. For me, the people of North Dakota define the meaning of hospitality and welcome to strangers. Thank you. Special thanks to the congregation of St. Stephen's Episcopal Church.

Cooperstown, will summer ever arrive?

Tuesday, June 22 I've been on the road 30 days now. The daily experience is colored by the weather, because it's so intimate. The 30 day weather report::

- Days of rain: 26 - Days the weather service would call sunny: 0 - Mostly sunny: 2 - The last mostly sunny day: Eureka, MT - Days below average temperature: 29 - Days 10 to 30 degrees below average: 21 - Days requiring at least two pieces of winter riding gear: 27 - Days of tailwinds: 4 - Cold winds gusting to 20 mph or more: 20 - Hailstorms: 1 - Thunderstorms: 2 - Snowstorms: 2 - Highest winds: 65 mph

JS continues to remind me that it's bound to get better. Yup. Indian summer can be really nice in upstate New York.

A brief history of North Dakota

Tuesday, June 22

First the was mud. Then ice. Then there was grass, then wheat.

500 million years ago: The land was under a huge saltwater sea, with mud drifting to the bottom. This is where gumbo comes from.

70 million years ago: The waters receded, and rivers brought more mud. Then came dinosaurs. They failed to read the warning label on the sides of their 100 lb. cigarettes.

100,000 years ago: The Wisconsin Glacier, looking like cottage cheese with crunchy bits, flattened the landscape.

25,000 years ago: The glacier melted, dropping boulders, gravel, clay and the bits used in goulash at casino buffets. The limestone turned to calcium carbonate, feeding a medium sized grass that originated in Iraq. People in the middle east were eating this wheat even as the Wisconsin Glacier was littering.

130 year ago: James Hill was deeded a bunch of land by congress for his railroad scheme. Unfortunately, there were no passengers. He made it cheap to travel here, and prohibitively expensive to leave (the reverse of Washington State Ferries). There was a speculative boom. Then bust. Then boom. Then the farmers failed to read the warning label of the side of the biodiversity box. It all dried up and blew away.

50 years ago: New farming techniques and increased mechanization created thriving communities. A farmer could plow 12 feet at a time going 3 mph.

Now: A farmer can plow 60 feet going 7 mph, guided by GPS to not miss an inch. There's not 10 times more land to plow, so it caused what one farmer called "shrinkage" of the towns. They all moved to Fargo, not reading the warning label on the movie of the same name, explaining how cold it has to get for how long before you can drive your pickup truck onto a lake.

Did I miss anything?

Are you a bicyclist?

Sunday, June 20 I'm easily spotted, even when I'm not carrying the helmet with rear view mirror. Even when the gel padded gloves are off. The wrap-around glasses put away. Even when my hair isn't spiked up in rows matching the helmet vents. Apparently few people in small towns wear black jerseys with dayglow bug-squashed green in wild patterns on the sleeves. But cyclists spot each other even when they're wearing street clothes. It's not the wild-eyed wind-blown look. Or the funny walk of trying to ease the riding pad out of your crack without actually yanking it out. It's the peculiar tan lines. More than just a redneck tan. There are ovals on the back of the hand, just below the wrist. An oval on top of the thigh and the back of the calf. Really white feet set off by really dark ankles. Why do they bike across the country, facing winds and storm and the peril of unattentive drivers?

Today for 26 glorious miles I flew before the wind, to a record 33mph on flat road. Why do I know it was flat? I'm in North Dakota. It's almost like sailing, running before the wind. The air feels almost still. The grasses move in waves right along with you. It's mesmerizing, enchanting. I was warned by many cyclists of the boredom of riding the plains. Riding through the plains was in my dream in February, the night after I rejected the idea of biking across the continent. I had never been to the plains, but it feels like that dream. And it is awesome. I've been cold. I've been wet. But I have not been bored.

I've met wonderful, caring, helpful, kind, generous, interesting people in every town. I've received the well wishes of hundreds of people. Many people in cars, truck and motorcycles wave. Every time I wave to a train, the conductor blows the whistle. I have felt so full of life these last four weeks.

Small towns

Friday, June 18 Towns under 1,000, sometimes way under, have the utilitarian infrastructure created during their formation in the railroad expansion of the late 1800's. Main street, bank, school, church, grain elevator - and they're all right on the Burlington Northern rail. The cafes have a community table. Right now I'm having breakfast in Towner, ND, and 10 men in their 50's and 60's are having coffee and playing poker while making small talk. The older men wear plaid button shirts, and the younger ones wear T shirts. They're all wearing hats and jeans. Men leave and men join the group from the pickup trucks outside. They move to fill empty seats, maintainng critical mass. One guy buys all the coffee.

I may not have hashbrowns again for years.

Granville is a town of 236 about 25 miles outside Minot. Like Towner, it's a Tree City, proudly proclaimed on a sign as you enter town.. They love their parks - sprawling lawns, gardens, playgrounds, tennis courts, volleyball nets, picnic tables, hookups. Free. One sign invites campers and visitors. All other vehicles are prohibited. They even have electrical hookups on the lawn. You park on the lawn, not on gravel.

Granville is the population of Marblemount. Granville has three bars. Marblemount has four restaurants. I'm not eating in bars anymore.

Howard made his way through Granville's town park with a cane, lamenting that nothing is growing this year. He meant his beloved tomatoes and cucumbers. There's plenty of rain, but it's been much too cold for everything except his radishes. You can tell that Howard enjoys sitting down to a sandwich of homemade bread and an inch slice of juicy sweet tomato still warm from the prairie sun. It was 34 degrees last night, another record. Radishes just aren't the same.

After a breakfast of ham scramble, hashbrowns, toast and two huge pancakes, owner Julie of Ranch House Restaurant, tempted me with grandma's homemade cinnamon rolls. It makes up for the hashbrowns.

I've seen standing water in farmed fields for hundreds of miles. Locals are bracing for a ferocious mosquito season. Howard admonished me to use Off. I'm pedalling faster. Each photo stop is good for about four bites. I'll have fewer photos for now.

Internet access has been difficult. I have yet to find an Internet cafe. Libraries in larger towns disable everything on their computers, so I can't upload photos. Smaller towns either don't have a library, or the hours are very restrictive. The biggest surprise was absence of pay phones. I've seen many booths with the phone removed. It looks to be a combination of phone company greed, vandalism, and increasing use of cell phones. Many small businesses will let you use their phone, but politeness dictates a short call. Do you know the name of the 12 step program for people who talk too much? It's on-and-on-and-on-an'-on.

Travel notes: Granvile has a beautiful, sprawling park on the edge of the city with electrical hookups and hot water. It's away from town center, railraods, lights, highway. Granville only has a few bars.

Towner's town park is a little more urban, but well landscaped. You can hear the train, and there is no hot water. Towner has a least three restaurants, two downtown and one on the highway. There's a cheese factory and outlet.

Record lows in Minot, ND

Thursday, June 17 The Minot International Airport recorded a record low of 37 degrees, breaking the record set in 1947, by 5 degrees. While the east and west are scorching, we have dark gray skies and blustery cold winds in the northern plains.

I finally caught up with the Brit that I heard about, David Grainger. This is his first long distance bike trip, and he flew in from England to do it from Anacortes, WA to somewhere in the northeast. David is a pithy chap, determned to go the distance with his trailer that is unstable at speeds above 25. Now I know I made the right choice with panniers. I try to take the bike as fast as I can each day (max. has been 40mph coming off Loup Loup Pass in Washington - yeeow). Like me, David bought a bike and gear just for this trip. He's sporting a leather Brooks seat, and a good bike. We didn't train before the trip. We both camp, and do about 70 miles per day now. We both decided to get a motel room in Minot - could it be the record lows with 30 mph winds? I did more gear research; David doesn't have email, and I did most of my research surfing the web. David left an unsatisfactory job, and decided to see the U.S. by bike before moving on. And he won't be doing distance biking again, or so he says now..

Minot, pop. 35,000, appears to have civic pride and looks clean. The zoo and fairgrounds are meticulous. But it has lost its downtown. The hospital dominates what could be called the core, but town sprawls so much that there is no core. The action is on a giant strip mall coming into town. The nearest place to get breakfast was a 10 minute ride from Main St. on a busy 4 lane road with no shoulder and a high curb. A biker's nightmare. Most of the north-south traffic is funnelled onto Broadway because there is only on major bridge over the railroad tracks. Most of the east-west traffice is funneled onto the expressway that goes over the river. This would be fine if these were efficient routes with feeders. They're not. Broadway is a huge strip mall with lots of cross traffic created by the wall-to-wall businesses. It makes the traffic look like more more than a town of its size. The downtown area has great brick architecture and gas-looking lanterns. But no people and few businesses that attract community. The restaurants are on a heavy traffic concentrator where it's hazardous to cross the street. Urban planning seems to be a foreign concept. It's not as if land is expensive out here.

The Sun Luck chinese buffet was quite good, with a braod selection, including desserts, for $7.95. It was a bracing 3 miles to the motel on the coldest night since 1947. The bike store in Minot rocks. I stocked up on tires and tubes. It's all small towns between here and Fargo. People talk a little funny here - I can't wait to go east. So I think I will.

Teepee style

Tuesday, June 15 Welcome to North Dakota was the sign, though ominously there was a roadpizza snake on the shoulder. I paused in respect of my bretheren, and to take a photo. The sun quickly turned to dark gray again, but the strong tailwind helped create an average speed of 18mph. Williston is the big town on this stretch, population 13,000. In many ways it's a poster of small town America, with tree-lined streets and neatly landscaped homes. It also has signs of other towns I visited that reached this population. In smaller towns (under 1,500), the civic center, including courthouse, library, town offices, are near Main street, and the towns are intact. In Williston, the civic center was moved to a corner, a lovely sprawling complex brought to you in part by McDonald's and Pepsi. But Main Street is dotted with closed storefronts and for lease signs. Some people say that the suburban malls are the new community centers. But they are private property owned by conglomerates who own dozens and hundreds of malls. And they all look alike, with exactly the same small set of stores. Every small town has it's own unique character, forged bythe complex forces of local taste, politics and economic forces. Rather than by corporate offices in Chicago. I'm reinforced in my desire to live in a small town in driving distance of a city.

From the Williston library I called the listing for a camping place 23 miles to the east. Jim the owner answered, offering a free place to camp, in the teepee if I like. Lund's Landing is an oasis, with a marina (when Lake Sakakawea is up to normal levels), restaurant and cabins - and a teepee platform high above the valley, with views of an unnamed butte. Laying in the teepee, the vibrant colors glowed in the evening light, the lodgepoles in silouhette, and the patch of deep blue sky at the apex. The serenity was accompanied by songbirds and the light sound of breeze funneling up the canvas. The freshly caught pan fried walleye was incredible, and the juneberry pancakes were served at breakfast with real maple syrup and strong coffee. A fisherman's and biker's breakfast. I continue eastward with a fondness of this special place.

Road Hints: In Culbertson the truck stop showers were closed. I've managed to shower every day but one. Trick #1: Backpacking shower from REI. This is a lightweigth plastic bladder that folds flat, designed for solar heating of creek water. After dinner I filled it with hot water in the restroom, and had my shower over the drain of the men's room in the town park where I camped. It left no trace. This also works for when you put all the quarters in the shower and - nothing happens.

Trick #2: No athlete's foot. I'm camping and showering in RV park showers, laundromats, and town park coin op's. At home I always wear flipflops at the gym. I brought my Tevas, but they dry too slowly. After each shower, I rub a few drops of Tea Tree oil all over my feet, taking care to put some between the toes (especially the frostbitten one). Tea Tree oil is one of the few essential oils that can be applied without dilution. It's antibacterial, antifungal, and some say antiviral. I say it's antinasty. At the end of the day, when I take the bike shoes off, rather than the aroma of road cheese, they smell of the Australian Tea Tree. Well, it's a complex bouquet with strong notes of Tea Tree.

So that's what the sun looks like

Monday, June 14

Even with a late start in Nashua and a flat tire, it was another 99 mile day to Culbertson, MT. Nashua's bar (the only bar) is the size of a dance hall, and the fixures would sell for hundreds of thousands in Seattle. Massive beautifully preserved wood with stainless steel hinges that probably weigh as much as my panniers. At breakfast I talked to a farmer who plows 1500 acres and sets aside half his land for wildlife habitat. We talked about cattle, grain prices, use of chemicals, the railroad monopoly, politics and tradeoffs. Here is a farmer who is active in state politics, wants to preserve the environment, and also has to pay the bills. It's a delicate balance that I haven't heard described on any talk show, because it's a complex balance. I came to a surprising conclusion. The most direct way to change everything is for consumers to change eating and buying habits. The reason Monsanto stopped development of its GMO corn is because farmers said they wouldn't buy it. But they said this because the Europeans said they wouldn't buy any products that had GMO in it. Because most of Europe, especially 'old' Europe, has a free press, and consumers are aware of what's in their food. If people here were more aware, things would change within a year.

I'll be leaving Montana later this morning, sun at my face and wind at my back. Hello, Williston!