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.
