Pilates Schmilates

Saturday, 28 June: Today there was a strong wind blowing from the NNW. When I was headed due east, I got a little boost from it while it tried to blow me off the road. When the road headed to the north at all, my silver lining was lost. When the road turned more to the north, it was super lame. It was a full body workout trying to stay out of the gravel. I got a good core workout, and tired pretty quickly. Because the wind was both strong and gusty, I got blown off numerous times. I really didn't like that, because there was a ledge at the edge of the concrete, and then gravel. Every time it happened, I thought I was going to fall when exiting or entering the concrete, or on the gravel. But I managed to stay up.

I got to a small town and inquired about camping in the park. The woman at the minimart said it was ok, and then told me about the town she was from, which is about a day's ride from here (wind dependant, of course) which has a lovely park where I can camp. Nice!

A couple of guys from the northwest showed up to camp, so I had some company for the evening. We discussed the towns we had been to, the food we eat, the people we've met, and sweaty bum rash. Good times.

They made really good time in the tailwind yesterday, so I am still kicking myself just a little for taking the day off...

Being Girly

Friday, 27 June: The sun was out and the wind was blowing hard from west to east. I kicked myself for already deciding to take the day off, but I have to stop regretting every decision I make. If I had rode, I might have made 800 miles with that wind, but I also might have gotten more sore and cranky and wished I had stayed in town.

I dropped off my bike at the bike shop-- no cute bike discount here, they are way busy and can't even check it out while I wait-- for a check-up, since I am not a mechanic, and have put 1500 loaded miles on it since I left, some of it on very rough road. I'll feel better knowing it's been looked at.

I went to the library, which is huge and open for many many hours, and picked up a bus schedule, then went down to the mall. Yes. I went to the mall, on purpose. I found a cute bathing suit at JCPenney, which was on sale, of course. That store never disappoints me. No luck finding pants that I like more than the ones I have, so I picked up a belt. Now I can retire that makeshift rope belt I was using to hold my pants up. I also got a few other things I needed, then caught the last bus at 4:19. Sigh. At least they have a bus system at all... I went to a Chinese buffet/sushi/mongolian grill restaurant, and-- holy diver!-- there's tofu! Sweet sweet tofu! It's been eight weeks since I've partaken of its guilt-free proteiny goodness. I loaded up on tofu and veggies, and told myself it was most definitely not a wasted day. It was pretty tough walking two or three miles back to the hotel with a giant chinese food baby, but I got through it with the help of another good hour long phone call.

I think I've had enough city time now to last until I get to Chicago.

Yup. I'm a cheating cheater who cheats.

Thursday, 26 June: When I left today, it was sunny, the shoulder was huge, and Glenda the Good Wind was at my back. Before too long, the dark, ominous clouds gathered and the storms set in. This wasn't like before, where there were a few distinct storms in the distance. This was darkness, as far as the eye could see, in every direction. I rode for as long as I could, since I had the wind and the electrical activity didn't seem too frequent or close. Eventually, though, it was rainy enough that visibility was poor, and the shoulder was small at that point. I didn't want to get run over, so I pulled off and huddled to wait it out. Then the hail started, and the wind was so strong... Yeeouch. Another good samaritan offered me shelter in his truck. Shortly, the worst seemed to have passed, so I got back to riding, only to discover that the wind had changed direction. I was now soaked, cold, hungry, fighting a headwind, and miles from any sort of shelter. And it was still raining. Blurg.

The wind eventually lessened, but my heart was not in the ride today. All I could think about was hot food and shelter. When a kind man in a pickup, Rick, offered me a ride, I said "Yes, please" and hopped in. I rode about 15 or 20 miles with him, to the town of Tioga, where he was headed for work stuff, and where the hotel was full. The hotel guy told me where to camp, and Rick, who was nice enough to wait while I checked at the hotel, drove me over there. It was kinda lame, and still wet, and I had gotten my mind set on a hotel. Cuz cranky wet girls need hotels! Rick dropped me at a restaurant to get some warm food and wait for him to head home to Minot when he finished work. I'm way more of a cheater then the Germans, but I'm only cutting out one and a half or two days of riding, and then I can get a hotel and Chinese food and shop for a new bathing suit because the old one is falling off... I think I might be having city withdrawal. I did not expect that. Also, I'm still sore, and need another rest day. Justify, justify, justify... I'm still travelling and meeting people... That was the point, right?

As I was sitting in the restaurant, the song "Bicycle" by Queen came on the completely awesome radio station. 101.1, if you are ever near Tioga. Not sure what the range is. For those of you who don't know, the song goes "I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike..." I felt another twinge of guilt about accepting the ride, but why do I feel guilt? I'm the only person this decision affects. And I am accountable to no one.

On the ride to Minot, I realize that I seriously missed nothing. The ride was hilly, with poor shoulders and bumpy pavement. There were hardly any towns. I've had plenty of that on this ride, and will get plenty more. Although, according to the Harvard boys, things will be flatter east of Minot.

Rick took me home to meet his wife Sue, who I really liked, and three of their grandkids that she was babysitting. Then he drove me to the cheap motel I had picked, but it must have been too late, because no one was in the office. He then drove me to a nearby cheap motel, where there were people, and I got a room. I had already paid for a single, and the woman handed me a key for a second floor room, and I said I really needed a first floor room, because of my bike, so she stuck me in another room. It's a double. I want to jump back and forth between the beds...

This is one of the worst cheap motels I've stayed in yet. The shower curtain has the nastiest case of mildew I've ever seen outside of a college student's house. There is electrical tape wrapped around the faucet. The chairs are stained, and the washcloth tore when I wrung it out. But it's all good, I have flip-flops and a deadbolt, and the bedding smells okay, and that's all I need. I may even stay an extra day. I was having thoughts earlier of wanting to buy some smaller clothes in town and what-not, but now I feel like just laying around and doing nothing. My muscles are sore, and my skin seems to be having a rashy reaction to being wet all day. I liberally applied Gold Bond powder and relaxed in bed with the Daily Show. Aah.

I miss Culbertson...

Tuesday, 24 June: Rest day. I picked up a package that my "uthah muthah" sent to me general delivery. It actually works! Then I chatted for about an hour with a lonely old man. He talked my ear off. He started out with the standard grumpy old man rants: the world is getting worse, it's so dangerous out there, so much crime, politicians are all screwing the taxpayers... I can't say I disagree with that last one, but I think the other perceptions may be a product of too much tv news. He asked what kind of work I did before I left. When I said I had done bacterial genetics research, he said "oh, you're one of those smart women!" Not smart people. Smart WOMEN. I chuckled and said I guessed I was. He told me about 42 stories about his life. It was fun chatting at first, but after a while started to feel like a public service. I stuck it out for a while longer, since I'm camping in the park for free, I might as well do some community service, right? But then it was all too much, and I attempted to make a graceful exit. That's actually pretty difficult to do when you are in the Saturday club. Where do I have to be? After two or three more stories I escaped.

The weather started out cloudy, then turned to rain, then a thunderstorm with hail, then got sunny. I spent the stormy part of the day at the library, computing and reading Newsweek. It's rare to take a day off in a small town that not only has a library-- with computers-- but to also have it be a day that the library is open. Lucky me! Most of the small town libraries I see are only open two days a week (this one was a whopping three!) for a few hours at a time. They are definitely not well funded. I was there for maybe two or three hours, and three other people used the computer, someone else looked at magazines, and one woman brought her child in for a book. I wonder if more people would come in if it were open for more hours, or if that would just be wasted wages and electricity? I suppose if you used the library regularly, you would just plan around their schedule. I love libraries, and grew up an avid user, so it makes me sad to think that so many people cannot just walk into a huge building full of books anytime. This was pretty much the size of a living room full of books. I noticed an inter-library loan sign. I should have asked how the selection is. Next time...

In the evening, I had a swim at the pool. A shower, a swim, and another shower, all for only $1. I could almost stay in this town for another day. But I don't want anyone to think I'm just some homeless person, living in their park. Although I guess I kind of am.

Wednesday, 25 June: I left the lovely town of Culbertson, MT, and headed for North Dakota. This is the fifth state I've biked in (although Oregon just barely counts), and the third time zone. The wind was once again my friend. It's as mercurial as a junior high BFF. The hills weren't as bad as they were west of Culbertson. Why are they the steepest when the wind is against me? This is definitely not an issue of perception-- they were really bad for about 15 or 20 miles. All in all the riding was pretty easy, but I guess one rest day wasn't enough, because I was still sore today, so I didn't push myself too far.

On the way to ND I passed two Harvard boys going the opposite direction, Seattle bound. We chatted for a few, and they gave me one of their Adventure Cycling maps that they were done with. Now I'm super extra glad I didn't waste any money on these things. They would be great if you wanted to follow a very specific, turn-by-turn route that someone had laid out for you, but if you want to deviate, you will need another map.

At the ND border I met a guy travelling east alone. He was struggling to take a photo of himself by the "Entering North Dakota" sign, but wasn't able to set up his camera on the tiny little tripod because the grass was too long. I showed up at just the right time and gave him a hand.

Shortly after crossing the border, there was a marked increase in mosquitoes. By Williston, they were downright vicious. I didn't really go into town, I just went to one of the many RV parks on the highway. What a mosquito-infested hellhole. It's possible I would have a higher opinion of this place if the "groceries" they advertised on their freeway signage had been something more than a jug of milk, six assorted cans of Dinty Moore stew, and a well stocked cooler of soda. So long, dreams of eating a sandwich for dinner and yogurt for breakfast. If their sign hadn't said that they sold groceries here, I would have stopped at one of the many stores I passed on my way here. Oh, yeah, and my tent is pitched on pretty much solid rock. The stakes are nearly useless, and there are no big rocks around to help hold things in place. And after my shower, two different mosquitoes bit me in the bathroom before I could get my clothes on. Once I was fully clothed, I hurried to my tent and shut myself in for the night. Even if there were anywhere to go, I would be unwilling to leave my tent until well after dark. It's lame, because much of my dinner-type food requires cooking, but there's no way I'm going out there without smothering myself in deet first, and I don't want to do that before climbing into my sleeping bag. And I think there is a band practicing next door... This is not an endorsement of this campground. But I found some food I could eat in my tent, and then got to the typing.

I love the way my phone says it has four bars, and then I try to connect and it suddenly realizes it only has maybe two, or possibly none. Thank you, AT&T, for making your phone as sketchy as your lousy service. For awhile tonight I couldn't get online, but now it seems I can. Hmm. Who knows...

Sub-optimal

Sunday, 22 June: Today was not Saturday. It was some kind of Monday or something.

I haven't fought wind like this since Moses Lake. After only four miles of struggle, which took 40 minutes, I stopped to snack and check the weather predictions. There was a strong wind advisory in effect until 6pm, but there was something on the weather site that implied the wind might lessen in an hour or so. I made a phone call (they seem to take about an hour now, so be warned if I call you and ask if you have time to chat) and waited. The wind didn't look like it was changing, but when I started riding again, it seemed to be slightly easier. It could have just been the effects of cookies and conversation. I fought the good fight for another 11 miles, then stopped, exhausted and famished, for food at a little cafe. The place was dead. I ordered and went to the bathroom, and when I came back out, it was like a different restaurant. There was an entire little league team in there eating the homemade ice cream, and two other groups had shown up for a meal. Crazy. I could have given up for the day and camped in that town, but I was determined to be in Wolf Point tonight, and was feeling obstinate.

I soldiered on for another five miles, and then the food coma kicked in. I knew I had eaten too much, but how could I resist homemade ice cream from a seventy year old recipe? There was nowhere to stop except the side of the road, as usual, so I pulled over and tried to nap for a few minutes on the shoulder. This, of course, alarmed the passers-by so much I had to get up and ride again. I should make a big sign that says "I'm OK."

Back to the fight. I watched several storms move around me as I rode. That was neat, for me. I've never been able to watch a weather system come in from miles away. I kept hoping I would reach that town in the distance before a storm reached me, but raindrops started falling while the town was still in the distance. I got off my metal bike and hunkered down in my raincoat a few feet away to wait it out. A car pulled up and some people told me to get in until the storm passed. They didn't care that I was already soaked. A few minutes later, the rain was done and they kindly offered me a ride to my next destination, but I couldn't see any way that my bike would fit in the car. I said "Thanks, but now that the storm has passed, and the wind is supposed to die down, this last 20 miles shouldn't be too bad." That was dumb. I should have used bungees and electrical tape to attach my bike to their car...

The wind died off almost completely after the storm passed. It was 6:15. I was impressed with the weather predictions. I rode without struggle for seven miles, thinking "This last twenty will be a snap!" Then the wind was like "psyche!" and it was back to fighting for every inch of progress. Yuck. I made it to the Rancho RV Park about a mile before Wolf Point just after their power had been knocked out by one of the storms I was watching. About two seconds after I started to set up, a girl came by and told me to stop by for a beer and some warm birthday cake when I was done setting up. Nice! She was part of a group of four kids with the US Geological Survey who were on a summer project that involved camping and counting tree species along rivers (I think I got that right. I was pretty tired by that point.) One of them was having a birthday, so they had experimented with the dutch oven and made a cake. Yum! Three of them were from Fort Collins, CO, and the other was from Wisconsin. They all had degrees in things related to ecology and environmental sciences, so I felt a bit like I was among my own kind. It was a great way to end a sub-optimal day.

During my ride today I was thinking about how I've been trying to adjust my schedule to get up earlier and take advantage of the cooler mornings to ride, but it hasn't been working. I just realized how dumb this is. I'm riding east. I hate riding toward the sun. It gets warm pretty quickly, so you have to be up extremely early for it to really make a difference, and I usually end up stopping a lot and napping until the sun is no longer in my eyes. I figure if I sleep in with impunity, my progress in the afternoon will be much better, and then it will be easier to ride into the cooler evening and set up camp later. And there's an added bonus: I got to stay up late enough for some star-gazing tonight. It was still a little too bright for the really good stuff, but I got to identify the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia, which is pretty much the extent of my constellation knowledge.

Monday, 23 June: The wind was variable today, in strength and direction. It was either a cross breeze or a headwind the whole way, never the tailwind I was hoping for. You can't always get what you want... At least it wasn't as strong as yesterday.

Several random strangers in northern Montana, most of them older people, have warned against stopping in various reservation towns. With the exception of that armpit Browning, their warnings have been for naught. I have a hard time telling the difference between the res towns and the other towns that are around the same size. As far as I can see, the population in these towns is a bit darker, and there are a few slightly trendier clothes. Maybe the trendy styles are too "big city" and scary for the old folks? Or maybe it's just racism, plain and simple. I will try to suss out an innocuous sounding follow-up question to ask after people warn me about a place that will help me ascertain what they have against said place. I'll keep you posted.

The hills got pretty large and frequent on the second half of my ride today. I spent the last 15 miles or so the same way I did yesterday: staring at the odometer and telling myself "only (blank) miles left to go. ANYone can ride a bike (blank) miles." Once again, I was feeling stubborn about reaching my destination. I rolled into town around dusk, and set up camp before dark. Whew. I am ready for a rest.

Two Lane Blacktop

Friday, 20 June: Rest day. I ate a whole lot of fruit and yogurt, since I'm near a grocery store. I talked on the phone and used the internets a whole bunch. I almost feel caught up to society again. I only just learned today that Hillary offically dropped out of the race. It was pretty much a done deal before I left, but she's a scrapper...

Some other Canadians, doing self-contained touring, rolled in and set up camp this afternoon. They are going the opposite direction as I am, so I got a little info about the road ahead, and passed on some tidbits about the road behind. We spent a lot of time checking out each others' gear and exchanging tips for life on the road. They are the first touring cyclists I've camped by on this trip, and seem like the most hard core old school campers I've met so far. They're really friendly and nice to sit and chat with. They say eh a lot, eh? It makes me pine for a nice Kids in the Hall rerun. And a lifetime supply of Kraft dinner! They had also met a bunch of the people who have passed me, or that I've heard about, so that's fun. It's a wacky little bicycle touring community up here on Highway 2. They also met the Germans on their way into town, who are apparently staying at a nearby motel. Those guys got a ride past the construction in Dodson... And the rest of the way into Malta! That's about twenty miles! I should just be hitchhiking, instead of pedalling hard like a sucker.

While we were hanging out, sharing grapes and cookies and slapping mosquitoes, a couple stopped by with their grandkids. Apparently they had met the Canadians at the store, and wanted to introduce their grandkids to the people riding their bicycles across the country. They got a bonus biker. We all had a nice visit.

I stayed at the city park in Malta. Most smaller towns let you stay for free, but this is a really big park with quite a few campers, so they charge three dollars per night. I gladly paid it, because in the bathroom there is a laundry sink! That is uncommon. There is only cold water, but it is so much easier to rinse out my clothes in a nice big sink. There are no showers, but I got one over at the gas station for two dollars. It was a flip-flop kind of place, but the time was unlimited and they provided the towel. This park combines the camping area with the playground and picnic areas. Everything is just kind of interspersed, and you can set up your tent wherever. Another case of mixing the tourists with the locals. It's a large area, and the various playground equipment is spread all over. That's a great idea, because then the kids have to run around more to play.

Saturday, 21 June: Today felt like the movie "Two Lane Blacktop." It's a languid, anticlimactic road trip movie in which the main characters, none of whom have names, are racing across the country for high stakes, but no one seems to be in any hurry to get anywhere. They wander around doing whatever they please, and have random conversations that go nowhere and leave everything unsaid. I can't say why it was so completely engrossing to me, but there you have it.

Today was hot, and the wind had changed direction, so it no longer helped me. The hills were hillier than they have been and the pavement bumpy, yet I still stuck to my goal of going seventy miles to Glasgow. There was, however, absolutely no sense of urgency or desire. There is so much daylight, I knew I would make it eventually, and that stopping early wasn't an option. I got on the road fairly early, by my standards, but the Canadians were already gone by the time I even emerged from my tent. What discipline. I pedalled slowly. I took lots of breaks. I napped. I had spacy, lazy chats with fellow weary travellers at a rest stop. This tough old French Canadian said "those bathroms remind me of prison, because everything is stainless steel." I refrained from asking if he had been in prison. It seemed rude... He seemed nice enough, but I was a little relieved when he left and some other people showed up.

When I got to Glasgow, no one seemed to know which of the city parks I could camp at. The Canadians had told me where to go, but I forgot. That was spacy. I *knew* there were five different parks. I got sent on a wild goose chase, then stopped to consult my Garmin. Some nice people driving by stopped and asked if I needed help. They then led me to the park where the bikers always stay. It was very sweet of them, but there's no bathroom in this park! I wandered around the park and talked to some other people to confirm this. They suggested I just use the bathroom in the hospital across the street. Excellent plan. I okay it with the woman at the desk in the hospital, and she points out that this park is the safest for camping, since the police patrol it all the time because it is by the hospital. Also excellent. Apparently I'm not afraid to say exactly where I am sleeping tonight when I know I'll have police patrols.

While I was setting up my tent, I met someone who had just moved here from Portland a couple of weeks ago, but was originally from a town in Minnesota that is about twenty miles from the town where I was born. I refrain from singing "It's A Small World." Maybe it just stays in my mind better when it happens, but it seems like I am meeting a ton of people from Minnesota and Washington.

Random thought: if any of my loyal readers are interested in hosting any cyclists I befriend along the way who are headed toward your town, let me know, and I will give them your contact info after prescreening. As long as you trust my prescreening skills...

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.