Still in the Dakotas

When I got on the road on Friday out of Freeman, my friend Doran came over to pick up my bags so he could tote them to my stopping point just north of Mitchell, SD. It was a pretty easy 50 miles without the bags on the bike. Before I left I received some tips to avoid hwy 44 when heading to Mitchell. Apparenty the James River is running a little bit high. That may be an understatement. Were I crossed it looked like the Platte River (non-Nebraskans may not get that one: mile wide and an inch deep). When I got to Mitchell, I took a couple pictures of the Corn Palace (not worth going out of your way to see) and met Doran at the campground. We went out for Pizza, and I figured that'd be the last familiar face I'd see until Oregon or so.

When I left Mitchell, I didn't come across a decent place for breakfast until about 20 miles down the road where I found a gas station that would fit the bill. I really hate starting the day on an empty stomach, but I hate backtracking even more, so going back into Mitchell after I was already north of town wasn't an option. A little further down the road in Woonsocket, SD, I had a nice long chat about my crazy trip with a gas station clerk and an older gentleman while I filled my water. They seemed to agree that I was a little bit out of my mind, but that the trip sounded pretty neat. The clerk bought me a bottle of Gatorade before I headed out the door.

Somewhere down the road I was just kind of zoning out, pedaling through some familiar looking terratory, though I had never actually been there (more corn), when I realized a pickup had pulled up next to me with his window down. "You look like you're working pretty hard. You want some Gatorade?" he asked. I kind of chuckled and pulled off. As he handed me the bottle of Gatorade, he asked where I was headed. When I told him about my trip, he agreed that I probably needed that bottle of Gatorade more than he did.

That night I ended up in Redfield, SD, at a nice little campground with lots and lots of children. It was the weekend, so all of the campsites were full, but a few of the campers said it would be fine if I just threw up my tent just about anywhere. I set up camp and went to bed to the sound of lots of children running, playing, arguing, and yelling for their parents to settle the argument. I just put in some earplugs and went to bed. I did NOT want to be that crabby guy that comes out to tell the kids to keep it quiet. I get to camp out nearly every night, this is probably a special event for them.

When I left Redfield the next morning, there was a pretty strong wind, but it was mostly a cross wind as I headed north. The temperature had dropped during the night and it was very cool outside. I rode north for just over 40 miles before turning west. At that point I realized just how hard the wind was blowing. I stopped at a little cafe near Aberdeen, SD, and checked the weather on my phone, just out of curiosity. The Weather Channel's website reported that the wind was currently 24mph WNW. I was hoping to make it past Ipswich, SD, but by the time I reached that point in my day, I was spent. I threw up a tent in the city park and was ready to call it a night.

As I was setting up camp, a man pulling a tiny little "camper" pulled up and asked if it was alright to sleep there. I told him that a few locals I had asked on the street had said it shouldn't be a problem, so he parked there for the night. I'm not sure what to call his sleeping arrangements, but my Aunt Vernette has something very similar. It's basically a bed in a little trailer shaped like a raindrop. The next morning Ron offered me some coffee and we chatted about our travels for a bit. It's really a shame I'm not going further north in Washington, because he offered me a place to crash for a night if I were traveling through, and I'd really like to see more of the Washington coast.

From Ipswich I continued west on hwy 12. I got to a little gas station along the road and went in to fill with water. When I came back out, there was a fellow touring cyclist eating what appeared to be about 4 slices of white bread. I didn't see anything between the bread, but I'm sure he had something. It turns out he's from Germany. He said he was going from Vancouver to Toronto. I asked him how he liked that 24mph tailwind from the day before, and he told me that with the general downhill and the huge tailwind, he had made it from Baker, MT, to Mobridge, SD. As you read this, you should look at a map. That's incredible. I don't care if there's a tailwind, that's amazing. That's 209 miles. Even if he was mistaken with his 'B' towns and meant to say Bowman, ND, that's still 163 miles (after traveling for a while, that kind of thing can easily happen).

After being humbled by the German and his mileage, I continued on down the road. In Selby, SD, I stopped for ice cream. There was this little place on the side of the road, and I just couldn't bring myself to pass it. I was a little curious about their rhubarb shake, so I ordered one. Think rhubarb crisp without the crisp and blended into ice cream. It was awsome.

As I pedaled past Selby and on towards Mobridge, a few scattered fluffy white clouds rolled through. The whole day the sky had been completely clear, so the occasional shade of these fluffy clouds was nice. The first big break from the sun came from this big white cloud that looked like the ghost in the Ghostbusters logo. Maybe I'm spending too much time in the sun...

In Mobridge, I was very thankful to find a nice campground with laundry facilities. The night before I hadn't gotten a shower and then in the morning had to put on an unwashed set of cycling clothes, so I felt grungy.

The next morning I crossed the Missouri River into Mountain Time. I set out with every intention of biking to Lemmon, SD, no matter what the weather. Luckily, the morning was almost completely windstill, and all afternoon I had a crosswind, which can be irritating, but it's not a headwind. The sunflower fields started before Mobridge, but there were SO many more after I crossed the river and onto the Sioux reservation. The fields seemed to stretch on forever.

I stopped a few times just for the sake of stopping, and in McIntosh, I met a young man that was currently working on putting six 15" subwoofers in his truck. I don't know what to say about that. I think his truck is going to fall apart.

The next town down the road was Watauga, SD. Google maps doesn't even label it on the map, but they have an inn, a cafe, and a feed mill. I asked the woman at the cafe what the population was, and she thought for a moment (must have been counting) and answered: 12. A town of 12 people could support three businesses. She said that her record number of people served in one day was more than 80. I don't understand.

From there I pedaled the last 30 miles to Lemmon, SD; the last town before entering North Dakota. I found a bite to eat, then started looking for a place to sleep for the night. The city park looked like a decent place, but as I was about to start setting up, a woman on a bike pulled up and invited me to eat with her and her coworkers. I joined them even though I had already eaten my fill. They were engineers working at the Shadehill Reservoir. Cindy was just getting into cycling and had a few questions about gear and whatnot. As we parted ways she made a contribution to the "Feed Neal Fund".

The grass in the park was very nice and made for good camping. I was a bit surprised at the number of mosquitoes this far west, but would later learn that even out here they've been having a very wet year. It had been a long day, and I was really wishing I could get a shower, but settled on rinsing as much of myself in the bathroom sink as I could before changing into street clothes. As I prepared to climb into my tent to escape the bugs for the evening, Cindy came by with a bottle of fruit juice for me. It was probably the most healthy thing I had put in my body that day, so I was grateful.

As I was setting up camp, I got a message from my dad saying that they got rain, meaning the parents are going to come visit me! It's a bit of a drive for them, and mom is just getting back from California, so I probably won't see them until tomorrow afternoon or so. This is a very welcome surprise, as I was preparing myself for a long and lonely road from here to Oregon. It'll still be long and lonely after they leave me, but I'm to the point that I think I can maintain my sanity through it. Now we'll see how the Rocky Mountains treat my body.

Today I pedaled out the first 25 miles pretty quickly, but saw some ominous clouds ahead. I'm currently stopped in Hettinger, ND, where the storm has passed and I should really get back on the bike. I think I'm only covering about 40 more miles today to Bowman, ND. Baker, MT, is probably out of range, especially with this unexpected stop in Hettinger.

On a side note, I think that I will be hitting 5,000 miles about the same time I cross into Yellowstone National Park. The half-way mark is coming up!