Insert clever title here

Wednesday, 18 June: I left Havre and their whole road construction mess behind and rode about 20 miles to Chinook. I picked it based on distance, and because it looked big enough on the map to have a park. When I got there, I realized it was a bit bigger town than I generally like to camp in, but it seemed like a nice enough place, and it was after nine already, so I wasn't going to keep going. I got some gas station food and asked if there was a park I could camp in. The woman pointed me up the street. It's a nice park, but somehow I got the impression that camping here might not actually be allowed. It's definitely not encouraged. There are no signs posted either way, though, so I set up in an unobtrusive spot. It was dusk when I began setting up, so I figured if anyone noticed, they likely won't do anything about it. There were some teenagers in the park when I got here, and I was afraid they would be hanging around making noise until late, but they cleared out shortly. I'm guessing they get kicked out at dark. It's now 10:30, and is pretty quiet and peaceful.

You know that thing people say about how poor people eat bad food because they can't afford the healthy stuff? I got a nice look at the minimart version of this messed up pricing disparity: 12 ounces of V8 (three servings of vegetables!)- $1.69. 6 ounces of lowfat yogurt- $1.09. A frozen bean and cheese burrito that I microwave there- 69¢. A starchy, lardy diet- priceless.

Thursday, 19 June. I was awakened at 5:45 by swim team practice, as the park and pool are right next to each other. This was the highschool team, the serious kids, so the coach was in full holler mode. I wasn't quite ready to get up yet, but it was good to get going early, because I wanted to go 70 miles today, to be in Malta (a larger town, relatively speaking) where I could have reception on my day off. While I was taking my tent down, in between swim team practice and swimming lessons, the coach chatted me up. He had toured with a band for fifteen years before he settled down and had NINE kids (that must be how he hones his yelling skills), became the swim coach, and ran this business on the side: thediamondguy.com. Quite a character.

And it seems like camping was allowed in the park.

It was pretty hot today, but a lot of the ride was downhill, and I had a friendly tailbreeze for much of the way, so I made pretty good time. The mosquitoes were not so friendly. I just can't wait to get to Minnesota...

Someone had warned me to avoid the town of Harlem, which is right by the Fort Belnap Indian Reservation. In fact he had warned me to just keep riding right through all of the reservations without stopping. It's possible he just didn't like Injuns, but I was inclined to believe him because he said the same thing about Browning, which was definitely seedy. Anywho, the Germans were planning to camp there tonight, and didn't think much of the warning I had received. They thought it sounded like someone who had never been there, didn't know what he was talking about, and was just repeating gossip. I decided to stop there and have a snack on my way by, and check it out for myself. The Germans were totally right. It was a nice, quiet, clean, well maintained town. A few miles past that I stopped in Fort Belnap because they had a rest stop and a store, and I needed some Powerade. It's good, because it's got electrolytes. The orange flavor is my favorite. The blue and green are pretty good, too, but the red and purple are too sweet for my taste. I haven't tried the pink yet, but based on my extensive knowledge of artificial color/flavor combinations, I'm guessing it will be right down there with the red and purple. But I digress. The rest stop, which has a shower (!), shares a building with the welfare office, but there were kids there playing basketball, so it kind of seemed like a community center, a bit. I absolutely love the idea of a rest stop for visitors in a place where locals congregate. Everyone was super friendly, and I had some good chats while drinking my Powerade.

Shortly before the town of Dodson, I came across some Canadians credit card touring on road bikes. They were fixing their second flat of the day, and on their last spare tube that didn't have holes. I told them about my awesome thorn resistant tubes, which have been puncture free for 34 days and counting.

When I got to Dodson, Highway 2 turned into a FREAKING DIRT ROAD. I thought "It can't go on for that long. I'll just tough it out." After a mile or two I was like "How much longer?" After three miles I was like "Maybe I should have gotten a ride..." It was so rough-- the worst dirt road I've ridden yet. It was especially lame after falling on gravel yesterday. It felt like it went on for a hundred miles, but it was actually about six. SIX miles of dirt road on the HIGHWAY. Ow, my spine. When I hit the pavement again, it felt like the smoothest road I had ever ridden. A few miles later the Canadians passed me. They had stopped for food in Dodson, and been smart enough to ask how long the dirt went on, and gotten a ride. That was good, because there was no way they would have made it with their skinny road bike tires.

I got to Malta uneventfully, chose from one of my many camping options, had a shower, got some food, and talked on the phone. My thighs are a bit hurting from riding 178 miles in the last three days, so tomorrow is going to be really nice.