Day 27--A Miracle Occurs

Friday 3 July , 2009
Williston to Stanley ND 

We three splinters had our first day together on the road July 3. We shot some pix of the red sky and morning rainbow, ate breakfast, activated our front and rear lights, and then started off just as the rain began. Temp was 77 degrees.

An old truck that separated the tent sites from the RVs; we were outlandishly charged $30 each to share one ramshackle site

We turned right and pedaled a hilly, rainy, 22-mile “shortcut” four miles from our campsite, and then picked up Hwy 2 east. I was riding strong ahead of Rick and Bill. At about mile 15, I became doubtful that I had the directions down right so waited for the guys to come up. When they did, I said, “Are we sure of this left turn, here?”

With that Rick exploded: “I was a pilot, goddammit! I know how to plot a route! I didn’t fly all over the world and not know the route, etc.!!*%6#/”  Then he took off and rode angrily away.

Bill and I followed, but I was deflated, wondering if I had exchanged one alpha male for another. We eventually met up again at Hwy 2 where Rick was waiting for us. No apology from a sullen Rick. I’ve decided that Rick and Kevin are related. When I am having a moment of self-doubt, they think I am doubting them and fly off the handle. Too bad, as it hardens my heart against them.

There was no eastbound shoulder at this point on 4-lane, divided Hwy 2, and the rain and darkness made visibility difficult. Rick decided that it would be best to cross the road and ride against traffic on the westbound shoulder. I, of course, was not keen on doing this, but after the blow-up I didn’t dare question Rick’s plan. So, we crossed and rode the westbound shoulder, which was pretty wide, but sloped toward the ditch. Each time a semi passed, the wind nearly stopped us in our tracks. In addition to the rain, we had a brutal headwind and one long hill after another. At one point, a semi came toward us with something on it hanging over the shoulder—I couldn’t see what it was in the dark and rain. I took to the ditch, and Rick, behind me had no choice but to follow suit.

It was a tough day that began at 7:19 am and ended at 5 pm, nearly 10 hours on the bike and 70 miles later. Over all those miles, there was only one place to stop and get something to eat and drink. It was at this stop that Rick apologized for his temper tantrum. I accepted his apology but did not let him off the hook by saying anything about it being my fault—a typical female soother.

A fascinating monster of a tandem recumbent with homemade saddlebags and water bottle sling

The couple who were riding the tandem; he worked as a nurse in an ER, they were riding a loop and said the hills were killers on their rig; hell, they were killers on our "rigs"

Before we reached the convenience store, the rain quit, but the headwind continued. My average speed was 9.1 mph; Rick’s was 10 mph. We three decided that the day was the toughest of the ride so far. That it was can be seen on Bill’s face in the photos below.

View of a flat section of North Dakota 2; we traveled endless, uninspiring miles on ND-2; that speck on the shoulder in the distance is  Rick who rode sullenly ahead of us until we reached the CS

Bill's shot of Rick and me with SD-2 spooling off in the distance; can't remember why he wanted this photo, had something to do with the number of miles cycled or the road sign I think. or maybe just that Rick and I were again side-by-side and smiling

We'd been seeing signs for Stanley’s Dakota Drug Store, home of the famous Whirl-a-Whip ice cream treat. Our tongues were hanging out. Unfortunately Bill and I got to the drugstore just as the last three customers were leaving and the store closed. Phooey. We are hoping it will be open tomorrow so that we can sample this old fashioned treat but we will probably leave too early.

A miracle happened when we got to camp. Rick had gotten to camp first, and a Mexican oil pipeline worker—Alfredo—in a nearby RV, invited him (and us) to have steak tacos with him. When Bill and I rode in we were beyond exhaustion. All I could smell was the delicious odor of grilling steak and onions. Ten minutes after we got in, we--the great unwashed--were seated around the picnic table scarfing down steak tacos with Alfredo's homemade fresh salsa, limes, and icy pineapple juice. Alfredo set everything up, enjoyed a brief conversation with us, and then picked up and left. Had we really just been fed a delicious meal? After dinner, Rick and Bill went into town and came back with chocolate éclairs and some “sipping” whiskey. Life is so very good!

Rick and Bill listening to Alfredo explain his oil line work and his little RV camping place; he was from Los Angeles and only temporarily here making the "big bucks" 

Bill's face describes our exhaustion well

Bring on the steak tacos

A beaming, post-prandial Alfredo

Me with chocolate fingers after eating an eclair that was fast melting in the heat

The railroad track is directly—maybe 20 feet—behind my tent on the other side of some tall bushes. I found myself in my tent screaming and laughing hysterically when the first train went by with a deafening roar, shaking the ground. I was so exhausted that I did not hear the second one.

Bill preparing to call his dad, whom he called nearly every night; each time he called, his father would tell him that he was crazy and urge him to "quit the nonsense"; out of necessity, our tents are set up in this tiny city park nearly on the RR tracks, which run about 20 feet away behind the bushes

Tomorrow we head for Minot.  

Day 28--Tailwind to Surrey

Saturday 4 July , 2009
Stanley to Minot to Surrey, ND

It’s the 4th of July and kids in the houses adjoining this city park are shooting off their fireworks though it is only 7 pm.

One plus: We are far from RR tracks. Last night (and many others) we were camped nearly on the tracks. Trains blasted past all night. Add fireworks to that—last night—and you’d think we couldn't sleep, but we were so tired we heard little.

Today we turned left and rode into Minot, a hilly city, where we planned to overnight and perhaps find a bike shop. But, Rick twitched the itinerary to his liking again, convincing us to ride an additional nine miles to Surrey to get away from all the bang and bluster of Minot’s July 4th celebration. I didn’t really mind as Minot has a bike shop, but when we got there, not only the bike shop but the whole city was closed for the 4th. I’ll have to bear with my deflating air mattress and two pair of falling apart shorts for awhile longer.

When I was completing my post-ride journal I learned that nearly 40% of Minot’s residents are of Scandinavian ancestry, and every October since 1977, Minot has been the host to the Norsk Høstfest, North America's largest Scandinavian-American festival. Scandinavian Heritage Park, located in Minot, features remembrances and replicas from each of the Scandinavian countries: Sweden, Norway, Denmark, as well as Finland and Iceland, even a full scale replica stave church.

In Minot we bumped into Bill Temple again. He’d had some sort of mechanical problem and had hitched a ride to Minot and a bike store. Of course the bike store was closed to him as well on the 4th so he had to wait. We told him of our proposed camping spot in Minot—a park behind a motel—and he thought he’d check it out.

Our morning headwind soon became a crosswind and then a tailwind, so we blew into Surrey in fine fettle (as my grandmother used to say).

Today was MUCH better than yesterday. Still a lot of hills but not as long or steep, though we did have one daunting one not too far west of Minot. We’d stopped on the opposite side of the road at a rest area, and I could not take my eyes off the long, steep climb coming up. But, after our rest, I dragged BOB up it without stopping or walking and was proud (and relieved) when I got to the top.

After setting up camp in this small city park, we rode back to the only store in town: a convenience store and “grill.” The young kid running it said that there was no food today. The grill was closed for the 4th. We longingly eyed the very long hamburger menu tacked up behind the counter.

When the kid saw us trying to find dinner among the sparse CS canned goods, he relented and cooked us hamburgers and fries. It is fun to be able to eat whatever one wants (within reason) when riding a bike. They say that a person of my weight riding with “moderate to vigorous effort” burns between 550 to 620 calories per hour. Figure that I am on the bike about 5 hours a day . . . I could eat 3,100 calories without gaining weight. That’s a lot of food. Generally I lose weight on these rides.

It's sunny but beautifully breezy now. We have washed out our riding clothes and taken sponge baths in the restrooms here, so are now ready for coffee and cookies and then bed. Rick has talked to his girlfriend on the phone and his mood seems to have lightened.



This is the only photo of note that I took today: Rick calling Pat after setting up his tent in Surrey's city park

Tomorrow we ride to Rugby, ND, the geographic center of North America.  

Day 29--Fireworks & Sipping Whiskey

Sunday 5 July 
Surrey to Rugby, ND

What’s that Rick said? “Let’s ride to Surrey where it will be quiet”? Well, last night the group of teens near our city park campsite shot off probably $2,000 worth of fireworks—worthy of a whole city’s display. Didn’t end until after midnight. The sound effects in the tent were weird—some sounded like a spark had ignited the tent. Because we three were at the edge of the field where they were shooting off the fireworks, we were nervous—and awake—until the last KABOOM!

We got off about 7 am. and rode 38 miles before we found a store and place to stop. The edges of Hwy 2 are often prairie potholes and are filled with lotus and cattails, yellow-headed and red-winged blackbirds, shorebirds, ducks, grebes, coots, killdeer, curlews, snipe, etc., all with young at this time of year. There were breeding ducks of all types everywhere. I predict a particularly good year for coots. I saw black terns, avocets, yellow warbler, American redstart, eastern bluebird, and orchard oriole—without binoculars or effort.

Our route has flattened considerably, and that is a relief, but we are still battling headwinds, though not as brutal as two days ago. Today we were often without a shoulder on this four-lane, 70-mph road, but it’s early and it’s Sunday, so we pedaled three miles before we saw a car, and it westbound. All the eastbound traffic moved considerately and safely to the outside lane.

Bill's bike before a hay bale before a canola field

Prairie pothole with a black tern over it and a canola field behind; the inset shot is the best close-up I could get of the tern, which was heckling me

Canola

Towner sounded so cowboy west; we rode through it but now I cannot bring it to mind

Actually do not know where I took this pic; may not have been on this day

When we got to Rugby we took some pix of each other posing at the exact geographical center of North America and then set up our camp in a nearby park. Our campground was nice and shady and had clean bathrooms and showers, and a washer/dryer, to say nothing about being located behind a roadside liquor store and near a little shopping mall where we bought dinner provisions.

We set up camp and went grocery shopping. Bill and I were happy to make dinner of a mishmash of coleslaw, hotdogs, sardines and cheese & crackers. But Rick hadn’t had his broccoli fix for the day so decided to supplement this fare with pasta with clam sauce plus broccoli. The broccoli was okay — Rick’s daily nod to “healthy” dining — but the poor guy didn't have a clue re the clam sauce & pasta. He over-cooked thin spaghetti and threw in a can of smoked OYSTERS and a quarter cup of OLIVE OIL! This unpalatable fare didn’t go over well . . .

My BOB flags peeking out from behind a large cottonwood tree--the blue one is the OK flag

Bill getting caught up on his journal; my tent in the shade of the cottonwoods

[While I was showering, Rick and Bill each bought a bottle of “sipping whiskey” at the liquor store. Both got sloppily drunk, Rick inviting me into his tent and asking to feel my legs after I’d showered; Bill saying inappropriate things to two young girls who are camped nearby. I like a cold beer or a glass of wine as much as anyone, but unfortunately, alcohol is ruining my fun on this trip. The guys, and particularly Kevin, equate beer with masculinity (a bullseye for beer ads) and drink until drunk. If I don’t drink with the pack, I am considered to be disapproving, and in fact, I guess I am. I’ll have to admit it. When I’m sober and they are drunk, their drunken talk and behavior seems juvenile. If I drank each day and evening with them, I would be unable to cover the next day’s miles. Somehow drinking and long-distance cycling seem incompatible to me.]

A father, mother, and their two daughters pulled into camp after dinner. The dad’s on a recumbent but the other three are on upright bikes. One girl, Erin, is 12 and her sister, Kelly Ann, is 14 or 15. Both are carrying large stuffed toys on their rear racks. These double for pillows they told me. They biked the Cascades last year to their home in Spokane; this year they left from Spokane and will bicycle to family in Maryland. What a test of family love and cohesiveness.

We are at a nice campsite in the shade of some very big, old cottonwoods.

Tomorrow we pedal to Devil’s Lake.

Day 30--Big Wind; Big Lake

Wednesday, July 6, 2009
Rugby to Devil’s Lake, ND

It is 4:50 and I am sitting in the lodge of Ackerman Acres on Devil’s Lake in North Dakota. We actually arrived in the town of Devil's Lake (5 miles west of here) about 12:30 pm. Ate lunch at a fast food place, and then went to the C of C/Information Center to find out where we could pitch our tents and grab a shower.

Everyone thought the park that had an ice hockey arena would be good. We could use the arena (one of 6 in town--does this tell you something?) for shower and bathrooms. But, when we got over there and checked it out, we found no shade and ball games going on until 10 pm. or later. The only place they wanted us to pitch our tents was out in the open, about 20 feet from the inescapable RR tracks and about 300 from the bathrooms.

So . . . Bill called Ackerman’s Acres which number was on the brochure the C of C had given us. The owners of A Acres told us to come along, though they did not usually take "bikers." Ackerman's Acres turned out to be pre-fab cabins, an in-process gravel "beach" on the lake, and no shade. I think the owners were expecting motorcyclists, but they were friendly and told us where to put up our tents and explained that we could use the lodge, which is brand new and contains a kitchen, shower, laundry, coffee machine, candy and snack machine, and big-screen TV as well as sofas and chairs etc.

Ackerman's Acres sits on Devil's Lake, or “Minnewaukan,” as its called by Native Americans. It's a body of salt water extending northwest/southeast for about 70 miles. It has no visible outlet, but Wikipedia tells me that "water probably finds its way through subterranean passages to the basins of the Sheyenne, James, and Red River Valleys." Since its inception during the glacial period, the lake has been either rising or falling. When we were there, water levels were at an all time high, nearly tripling the size of the lake. Numerous roads, trees and pastures are now beneath the surface. To counter this drowning of their resort property, the owners of Ackerman Acres were installing a raised gravel beach.

Exterior of Ackerman Acres clubhouse; the interior was much cosier

Ackerman Acres gravel beach and small dock on Devil's Lake

The unappealing raised gravel beach, which was being bulldozed into place while we were there; the owners told us this was necessary to protect against flooding because the devilish lake is rising each year

The only place with shade where we could set up our tents was under a lone tree up on a hill behind the cabins, so we have set up our tents in the sun, and, like B’rer Fox, “lay low” in the lodge until sundown.

Bill checking something out before erecting his tent

The tree behind the cabin where we pitched our tents; only allowed shade for one, so we all pitched in the sun, I remembering Rick's anger when Diane pitched her tent one time under the only shade tree

The couple who own Ackerman’s Acres have given us free rein, “free” being the operative word. They don’t want to charge us, but at Rick’s insistence, we will leave $10 each anyway, though what $30 will mean to their budgets as opposed to what it means to ours is laughable.

We’ve showered and are doing our laundry. Tonight it was my choice of what to have for dinner, and presently it—roast chicken, broccoli (Rick’s pick), coleslaw, baked beans, etc. bought five miles back at the Devil’s Lake grocery deli—is in the fridge and will soon be in us. Then we can lounge in here where it is cool, watch big screen TV, listen to the juke box, munch popcorn, and relax. 

Rick relaxing in the lodge out of the heat and sun before dinner

Our ride today was 68 miles into headwinds most of the time. The route was fairly undemanding, however, so the ride wasn’t too taxing, except that we're all a bit chafed and saddle sore from our day in the rain.

[Don't know what I said, didn't say, did or didn't do, but Rick is back to being surly with me. Don't know what it is about my  personality that provokes, and that worries me because I am always blindsided. Maybe it is my abruptness. Maybe it is Rick's hangover. These "cabins" and this man-made area seem pretty unappealing to me, but this evening Rick arranged to speak to the owner about buying a property here for his "retirement getaway." To each his own, I guess.]

Internet photo of a long-billed curlew landing

There was not a single place to stop between Rugby and Devil’s Lake. We think that North Dakotans do not use the roads much in winter and thus there is no profit in putting a gas station or convenience store or café out of town. Just grasslands and yellow fields of rape seed (canola) and the wonderful prairie potholes. Today there were long-billed curlews guarding their nest sites and scolding overhead as we pedaled past.

Tomorrow we will ride to Binford, ND, and then Page, and then Fargo where Rick will leave us, and Bill and I will enjoy a rest day, whatever that is. I've forgotten. 

Day 31--Binford Cabin

Tuesday 7 July, 2009
Devil’s Lake to Binford, ND

Another day of headwinds—first 20 miles were a trial and took over three hours to ride. Then we headed south so had only crosswinds . . . and light rain.

This morning, both Bill and Rick nearly lost their tents to the strong wind. We were camped on a hill overlooking Devil’s Lake. Bill wrestled his tent into submission. Next thing I knew, Rick was yelling, “Catch my tent! Catch my tent!” I caught it or it would now be in the middle of Devil’s Lake. Later, in as gentle a way as I knew how, I suggested that we not pull our tent stakes until the fly and frame were down.

More prairie, more prairie potholes, more waterfowl with their chicks. Today a female mallard flew along beside me for a long while . . . leading me away from her nest or brood I guess. Earlier Kevin reported the same behavior—female mallard flying along beside him for a great distance. Also, today an avocet flew above me repeatedly, giving the alarm call.

I’ve been keeping track of bird roadkill for something to do. Today I saw a roadkilled red-winged blackbird, a female mallard, a black tern, a cinnamon teal, and 3 unidentified. In fact, birds make up the majority of the roadkill in the states we’ve been in so far—though one section in MT had many prairie dog roadkills. Sad to see so many little bodies. I yell at the prairie dogs when I see them poised to cross the road.

We finally leave ND-2!

Wanduska Square, a collection of one-room schoolhouses gathered in a museum display--in the middle of nowhere

Bill stops on a corner of the mowed schoolhouse property for one of his power naps

Rick got to Binford before Bill and me and set up his tent in the city park. When Bill and I got in, it was raining hard, so I persuaded Bill to split the rent on a cabin in the same park for $20—$10 a tent is what we’ve been paying to camp, so this is a deal. It’s got two bunkbeds in it and a futon, a table and three chairs, AC and heat. We need the heat at the moment. In fact, it’s been rainy and chilly all day—chilly I like when I’m on the bike. Rain not. Rain has got to my cell phone and killed the battery I think. I will not be able to get the phone fixed until day after tomorrow in Fargo. It is strange not having cell phone contact.

Bill's and my Binford cabin; Rick is upset that we are not tenting with him and had to be persuaded to go to the Binford Cafe to dinner with us; I am weary with it all

Bill slept little last night, afraid of snoring or making rude noises, I think. Each time I got up to go out to the washhouse, he would talk to me as though he’d never been asleep . . . which I guess he hadn’t. He is uncomfortable sharing a room with a female. This will be the last time we do so, despite having to shell out big bucks each when we occasionally must chose a motel.

[Oddly enough, when we join the other group after RAGBRAI, camping was over and everyone--but me--crammed themselves into one motel room each night. Bill slept nightly with a couple of females and the whole group of guys, sleeping on the floor and sharing the bathroom. Also, later on he often joined the group in drinking himself to sleep or unconsciousness in the evenings. Maybe so that he could bear sleeping six to a room? I really like Bill, he’s kind and caring, so hate to see him compromise to be buddies with the guys, particularly Kevin whom he looks up to and with whom he has a wrestling connection. But, I guess I can’t blame him. After all, Bill’s age and speed doomed him to ride with two women—me and Diane—for much of the ride, so I guess this is natural. Enuff cycle-analysis.]

We’re in the land of giant farms and GIANT farm equipment. The people where we stayed last night used to farm 9000 acres. A farmer we talked to today lives in Baltimore, Maryland(!) and farms 20,000 acres here—or farms out most of the farming chores, I guess, as he lives so far away. Comes here each spring and leaves in the fall. He says you can’t make a living with 9000 acres. Hmmmm.

Bill's bike dwarfed by farm machinery

We ate in the Binford Cafe. Their menu in our little cabin said they served a walleye dinner, but the woman running the cafe said that walleye is too expensive right now so she was not running it on the menu. Water’s been unseasonably cold; fish are deep. The café was quaint, decorated with state license plates and interesting pix. The woman running it says that she must quit because of her health. It will be a shame if the cafe closes because it is the center of social activity for this small town of 187 people.

The Binford Cafe with Bill trying to exude enough cheer for all

Enough for now. Glad I do not have to put up the tent and sleep in the wind and rain.

Tune in tomorrow. 

Day 32--Rain & Wind

Wednesday 8 July, 2009
Binford to Page, ND

It is 6:10 pm and I am just cleaned up (sponge bath in the tiny, dark, city park ballfield restroom) after the day’s ride. I’m now in my civvies, and feeling somewhat human again.

Another tough day on the bike. Severe headwinds for the entire 58 miles, sometimes nearly stopping all forward motion. It was like climbing (which we did a little of, too) for 58 miles. I told Bill that the best part of the day's ride was getting off the bike in Page.

We left Binford around 8 am after a great breakfast at the Binford Café, and then struggled through vast farmland against the wind for 8 hours. Now we are in the Page city park. All three of us are communicating with those back home. When we are finished, we plan to pedal the couple of blocks back into town for a cold beer and something to eat.

Me before the huge farm machinery so necessary in this vast agricultural area

Bill (and below, me) "suiting up" in plastic bags for our ride back into town and the Page Cafe

Bill after breakfast at the Page Cafe

Rain is predicted for tonight as well as 80 mph winds, so the guys have set up under the picnic shelter, but I cannot sleep on concrete with my deflating air mattress. If I did, I would be unable to pedal anywhere in the morning. If the winds hit 80 mph we'll all be blown away, picnic shelter or not, so I’ll take my chances. At least I moved my tent out into the open so that a tree branch cannot fall on me, and I staked it well. It is supposed to rain on us during tomorrow’s 52 miles to Fargo, also. I hope that the rain and storms turn the wind around to our backs.

We were lucky and hit the Page Cafe on $2.00 hamburger night. The cafe is co-operatively owned and operated by the townspeople. Across the street was Ole's Place--a clue that everyone here sounds like they just stepped out of the movie Fargo.

A group who had gathered for $2 hamburger night at the Page Cafe; after dinner they held a religious meeting behind the French doors to the right

We are not even to Fargo yet, but seem to be in the movie

Really really looking forward to our rest day in Fargo.

Day 33--Rick & Bill CRASH

Thursday 9 July, 2009

Page to Fargo, ND

E-mail to RAGBRAI-bound Group:

On the way to Fargo this am, we turned onto Hwy 4 and had the first tailwind in four days. I took off like a shot. The guys stopped to rearrange something, so I soon lost sight of them and they me.

At the Hwy 81 intersection, I waited for half an hour and then decided that I must have missed them when I ducked into a CS to use the restroom. So I continued to the next town. After half an hour there, still no guys.

My cell phone is dead so there was no way to get in touch. I asked passing motorists in both directions if they’d seen two cyclists. No one had.

Finally I stopped at a metal fabrication shop off Hwy 81 and used their phone to call Rick. No answer. Called Bill, and he answered. Said they’d had an accident and were at the Meritcare Hospital ER in Fargo.

Todd, the guy at the metal shop said he’d run me in to the hospital. (I was only 9 miles from Fargo.) When I got to the ER, I learned that Rick had broken his upper left arm and that Bill had bruised his shoulder, lost a deal of skin from his elbow, messed up a finger, and banged up his bike a bit. Rick had slowed and then perhaps misjudging Bill’s speed, pulled directly in front of Bill. Bill crashed into him at 25 mph.

We are in the Hotel Scandia directly across from the Meritcare ER. Rick’s friend is coming tonight in his RV and will drive Rick home tomorrow, or Rick will fly home tomorrow. He hasn’t made up his mind. Bill and I will see that his bike gets shipped.

Hotel Scandia across from the hospital

Meritcare Hospital, Fargo, ND

We were to spend the night with some of Bill’s friends, who are physicians and who are leaving for “the lake” tomorrow. Now we will meet them for dinner.

Bill and I will be here tomorrow night also. I’m in Room 310; Rick and Bill are in Room 309; phone here is 701-232-2661.