Covid Cross Day #31 Dickinson, ND to Wilbaux, MT
Covid Cross Day #31
July 4, 2020
Dickinson, ND to Wilbaux, MT 73 Miles
Start 6:46 AM Finish 4:02 PM
Ride Time 7:28
Ascent 1785 Feet
Descent 1576 Feet
Tour Total 2656 Miles
This year’s bike tour is also a fundraiser for the Montana COVID-19 Fund, supporting Montana Native American communities. Please give what you can, a penny a mile ($40) or $10 a state ($160).
https://www.mtcf.org/Giving/Give-Now?fn=Montana+COVID-19+Fund
There was lightning on the horizon last night as I slipped into my tent. I slept on a cement slab up against a picnic table underneath a pavilion at Patterson Lake Recreation Area. The lake was nearby to the south and there was an adjacent volleyball court and barbecue grills.
I don’t know what time the rain started pelting the side of my tent. Because I had set up on concrete there was no way to stake my tent in place. The fly and the tent were being blown inward, and my body was the limit. Rainwater was blowing in under the tent but trapped on top of the ground cloth. The floor of my tent got wet, but my Thermarest was literally a floatation raft so I stayed dry. For warmth I alternated between my sleeping bag and the liner. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep and it was especially challenging to slumber through the wind.
I had secured all of my gear in my panniers which were clipped to my bike, which was locked to a picnic table. I had left my shoes in front of the tent door, which was a mistake. Come morning they were soaking wet, and I had to start the day with wet feet for the second day in a row. At 6 AM, as soon as wind stopped, noisy birds invaded the pavilion. I wasn’t clear if I had snuck into the park. It was time to get up and go. The pack-up was slow. My ground cloth and tent were soaking wet.
I enjoyed my beautiful early morning view of Petersen Lake and the distant clouds low on the horizon. There were large puddles out on the road. The wind made it chilly and I was wearing my sweater. For the first time ever I was traveling in the direction that the ACA paper map had been written. I've always started my tours in the east and most ACA routes start from the west, except for the Lewis & Clark route. I was used to working my way from the bottom to the top, and now had to readjust. I was now tracing my progress from the top right. The next section continued below, again from right to left. Unlike the Northern Tier maps, the Lewis and Clark paper maps provided elevations. My mean elevation today would be 2500 feet.
It was July 4 and I spotted numerous spent fireworks shells out on the road. I had done this section last year and knew that today I would be in for a treat. A windsock out on the road confirmed what I already knew, the wind was out of the south. The forecast called for mild air currents, but Dark Sky got it completely wrong last night, so who knew. I enjoyed a sweet aroma from the wildflowers alongside the shoulder. It was a crisp morning with a strong sun blazing at my back.
I got a text from Myk telling me that he and his son were riding the GAP from Maryland to Pittsburgh. I’ve done the C&O and would like to do the whole thing. I was looking forward to Myk’s full report. I had been seeing oil jacks out in the fields the last few days, and passed a large new system, roadside, with numerous reservoir tanks. There was no traffic out on old Highway 10. Road workers had recently re-oiled the surface. New double yellow lines had been painted down the center, but the white lines didn't yet exist. I passed the turn-off to South Heart, populations 301. It was a mile off-route and I didn’t make the trek.
The route slanted northwest and then west alongside I-94, which I would be riding on later in the day. While riding adjacent to I-94. I could see a blue water tower in Belfield from six miles away. A sign warned 'Fresh Oil Loose Gravel Next 11 Miles'. It being a holiday, there was no active construction. The road seemed perfect. A wind-sock along the highway was fully inflated and showed that the wind was coming from the south west. I remembered the Belfield reservoir tower from last year. The large blue tank was at the top of a hill that was visible from miles away. It was a long slow approach offering plenty of contemplation.
I was hungry, so when I got to Belfield I went to the Trappers Kettle. I was now close to the Painted Canyon, and the restaurant was filled with tourists. The interior featured rustic wood paneling with large dead animal trophies throughout. A wooden canoe sat next to my table. I ordered the bacon omelet with toast, coffee, and orange juice. Back out on the road the sun was strong and there were very few clouds in the sky. It was going to be a hot day. I enjoyed the newly oiled road for most of the morning. There were new yellow center markings. All of a sudden a bright reflective white line appeared. I now had a designated shoulder.
Far in the distance I could see a road overpass over I-94. I realized this was where I was headed, and where I would ride onto the interstate. I was used to having Old US Highway 10 completely to myself, and was soon going to have to share my experience with loud, fast moving cars, and trucks. I spotted two eastbound touring cyclists in the distance. Kevin and Monique were doing the Northern Tier from Anacortes to Bar Harbor. I had followed their blog on Crazy Guy before my tour began. https://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=1mr&doc_id=22943&v=89 They had run into Chris and Sidd, and also Christian whom they said was already in Duluth. I was reminded that Chris and Sidd got awaken by sprinklers in the Wilbaux City Park, a totally rookie move.
Monique was originally from Iowa and Kevin was from Maryland. They currently lived in Helena Montana, and told me to look them up when I did the Great Divide. They were located near MacDonald Pass. Kevin mentioned that he was having saddlesore issues. I told them about the nice section of Old US Highway 10 on hard-backed dirt and gravel east of Dickinson. I asked if I could stay on the old highway and avoid the Interstate. They said that highway 10 dead-ended. So at 135-1/2 Avenue I cut north and got on I-94.
I didn’t really like riding on the Interstate. It was legal out here in west and it was part of the ACA route. The shoulders were wide and the grades were easy. The speed limit was 75 MPH which meant 85. All of a sudden the earth opened up exposing rock, sand, and dirt. Horizontal bands of color spread from one formation to another. I entered Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I briefly exited the Interstate to visit the scenic viewing area. I had to cross a cattle grate, which was terrifying on a bicycle. At the viewing area, I was singled out by a Parks employee for walking my bike on the sidewalk. My ear-pods were stuck in my head and I was jamming to the Duane Train. I just nodded and thanked her. I had been here last year.
Back out on the Interstate I spotted nearby clusters of small earthen mounds. I noticed prairie dogs, and then realized they were everywhere. It was amazing how quickly the landscape had changed. The badlands seemed to spring out of nowhere. I witnessed bands of earth tones, red buttes, and interesting eroded forms with narrow streams cutting through. Sage brush grew everywhere.
I turned into the tourist town of Medora, which was located along the Little Missouri River Valley and cut into the badlands. I stopped on the main strip and got myself a strawberry smoothie with whipped cream. I sat out on the old western wooden planked sidewalk under the portico. Many tourists were wearing masks. I rode out of town on a bike trail. I crossed over the Little Missouri River which was still and shallow. A freight train approached from the west.
I got back on I-94 for one stop, and then entered the National Grassland. Soon I was back on old Highway 10, paralleling the railroad tracks, and slowly climbing up out of Little Missouri River Valley and away from the Badlands. I was headed back up to the prairie. The road was quiet. There was no motorized traffic, only a few wispy clouds on the horizon and pesky deer flies.
I ran into eastbound touring cyclist Aimee, from Connecticut. She was doing a modified Northern Tier from Anacortes to Connecticut. She was the first solo female cyclist I had encountered doing a cross-country tour since Eileeny Beenie. Aimee said that her tour had been fine. She was heavily loaded with camping gear and was even carrying a chair. Aimee told me there were no services in the next town of Sentinel Butte. Her Instagram handle was @Aimee.white.188
In the distance I could see Camel Hump Butte, elevation 3273 feet. I rode by the tall pointy butte with the giant cross on top that I commented on last year. My sentiments remained the same. It would be better without the cross. I climbed up over another ridge and passed another blue water tower. Far in the distance I could see the town of Beach, population 1019.
At long last I reached Beach, which would be my last stop in North Dakota. I was eyeing the truck stop out by the interstate. It was hot and I needed an ice cold beverage. At Flying Jay’s truck stop I got an extra large Coke on ice, and a replacement USB to mini plug. After my ice cold drink, I got back on I-94 with only one mile to the Montana border.
I did my nude photo shoot which was a coast-to-coast ritual. I gave a lengthy explanation in last year's report. Montana had an 80 mile an hour speed limit and I noticed a sign saying that it was illegal to transport invasive species. I saw another sign explaining the white cross markers. There was an inspection area for all watercraft. After a few miles I rode into Wilbaux, population 589, and headed to Beaver Valley Haven RV & Cabins, the same campground where I stayed last year. I selected site number ten, and set out all of my wet gear under the sun to dry. I showered, shaved, and laundered my clothing. The water smelled like sulphur. I set up my tent while starting the device recharging cycle.
I rode into town to the Beaver Creek Brewery and the Gem theatre. I ordered the lasagna special and a pint of the Beaver Creek Amber. I broke out my laptop and got to work. My first order of business was my blog and social media. Then came the real work. I had nine renderings for a public art commission due on Monday. Ugh! Presentation boards using Photoshop and Illustrator after a day of cycling. This was the third iteration I had been asked to draw, and I had a staggering amount of files to keep track of. It was a lot of work.
I remembered from last year that the brewery had an early last call. It was an 8:30 PM and I was midway through my work. I checked my weather app and saw that the conditions had changed, and a storm was imminent. I raced back to the campground to retrieve my dry laundry from the line. As I pulled into the campground the proprietor ran out to tell me the coming storm would be bad. She offered me cabin #5 behind the bathroom. Returning to the same places and developing relationships had its benefits.
I struck my tent and camping gear as fast as I could. I moved everything into the (ghetto) cabin. Everyone was shooting off fireworks. I then rode back into town. I was still hungry and stopped at Vaqueros Restaurant Casino & Cantina where I ordered shrimp tacos, chips and salsa, a few pints of Amber, and a margarita. I finally finished my work, including today's post. I was now in Montana!
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