Greetings from New Ulm, Minnesota

Hi, All,

Six more days on the road have taken us 500 miles, from Rapid City, South Dakota,on the edge of the Black Hills, to New Ulm, Minnesota, rich in German heritage. The days were challenging due to the long miles and high winds, which finally turned against us forty miles west of Pierre, SD (pronounced "Peer"), the state capital, and then remained strong and contrary all the way to Minnesota. We also had to contend with rain for the first time since Avon, Montana, when a cloudy day turned to showers in DeSmet, SD. The rain stopped in the evening and held off overnight, but then just as we were packing up our campsites the next morning, a drenching downpour began, and the day remained rainy through the first half of the day. Overall, though, our good luck with the weather has held: the days have been generally cool and cloudy, making riding comfortable; so while the wind slowed our pace, at least we weren't being scalded under a hot sun as we crossed the high plains. The warmest temperature we faced was in the low-90s through the Badlands, which given the low humidity felt perfectly comfortable, especially given the tailwind that sped us along that day.

Riding through the Badlands is one of the highlights of the Big Ride. The scenery is stunning, and while the day was partially cloudy, there was enough blue sky to liven the colors of all the striated rock. The landscape is desolate but beautiful, and we were able to take our time while riding through it thanks to the day's ideal conditions. We were facing a 102-mile ride from Rapid City to Kadoka, but we set off in cool morning air, the temperature in the low-60s, and as the sun rose, so did a strong westerly wind. Several riders called it the easiest century ride they'd ever experienced. Setting off at 6:30 a.m., I managed to ride the 75 miles to the entrance to national park by noon, and then, with less than 30 remaining, spent several hours lingering at several viewpoints, visiting a sod house from pioneer days, taking pictures of prairie dogs at a roadside stop (where the prairie dogs are as tame as New York City squirrels), and stopping also at the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, commemorating South Dakota's contribution in the Cold War against the Soviets. Tours were available of both an underground missile silo as well as an underground launch control center, but it would have taken several hours and an extra ten extra miles of riding.


Riding into the Badlands


Nearing the park entrance ...


View from Cedar Pass




Prairie dog photo op


Sunset - Kadoka, SD

The landscape east of Rapid City, besides the outcrops in the Badlands, was mostly uncultivated plains, and through much of it that first day, while the land at times was rolling, sections of it were pancake flat. The next day, between Kadoka and Pierre, was much hillier, and nearly as long - 97 miles. The morning was beautiful, the temperature again in the low-60s; the wind was light for the first 40 miles; and the plains were far greener than they'd been in '06 because of this year's late spring and unusually high rainfall. The riding became difficult, however, as the day wore on. Everyone felt fatigued by the second straight day of nearly 100 miles, and climbing the hills became laborious especially once the wind picked up. It was a desolate stretch: 60 miles with no services - not even a gas station - between Midland (pop. 145) and Pierre (pop. 57,501), and over the last 40 miles we rode straight into a headwind. The temperature never rose above the mid-80s; it was cloudy, and the air was thick with humidity. We arrived in Pierre exhausted, and much later than we were used to; we'd also lost an hour by crossing into Central Time. The city of Pierre was besieged; the Missouri River had risen over its banks, causing the shoreline - including the riverside park where we were meant to camp - to be under several feet of water. A wall of sandbags lined the downtown streets, and we ended our day by riding to higher ground and staying at the high school a few blocks from the capitol building.


Gabe riding east of Kadoka






Flooding in Pierre, SD

The next two days were mercifully shorter: 77 miles from Pierre to Miller, SD, and another 77 from Miller to DeSmet, a childhood home of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Both were also cloudy and cool, the temperature staying in the 70s while to our immediate south, in Nebraska, it was 30 degrees hotter. The landscape also once again flattened; we rode past vast wheat fields and stretches of grassland for grazing cattle, with grain elevators and water towers visible for miles. The problem was the strong winds, blowing consistently out of the southeast and strengthening in the afternoons, impeding our progress. (Whereas from Rapid City to Kadoka I'd averaged 15 mph, on the days east of Kadoka, my average dipped to 12 mph.)






Flooding west of Huron, SD

In DeSmet I spent the afternoon in the town library hiding out from the rain and learning about Laura Ingalls Wilder: I read an on-line biography, the first chapter of "Little House on the Prairie," and also the first pages of "The First Four Years," a posthumously published book about her time in DeSmet. (On a more high-brow note, I also have been reading George Eliot's "Adam Bede," but that afternoon I was feeling decidedly sleepy.) Then the next morning came the first heavy rain: I had packed up my tent and nearly had everything safely stowed in my duffle bag when I went to the restroom to put on contact lenses. While staring into the mirror, I heard a sudden crack of thunder, and seconds later the deluge began. We had risen particularly early that morning - 4:30, while it was still dark - before a 5:30 breakfast in a downtown general store (Ward's) provided by the DeSmet Chamber of Commerce. By 6:00 a.m. it was still raining and just getting light when we rode off in the gloom. The rain stopped after 40 miles, by the time we reached Brookings; and the wind again stiffened as the day wore on. We passed a lot of dairy farms, and as we crossed into Minnesota, there were wind farms in an area called Buffalo Ridge. Five years ago the wind turbines were located only on the Minnesota side of the border. It was good to see that South Dakota has caught on. Unfortunately the winds recently became too severe: a tornado struck the area on July 1, and as we rode through the area, we saw evidence of the damage: a flattened barn, a caved-in silo roof, broken telephone poles, downed power lines, and several of the wind turbines had been stripped on their propellers. The damage was even more severe in the town of Tyler, Minnesota, where we stayed: many trees had fallen, tops snapped off at mid-trunk; fiberglas structures such as carports completely mangled, and many houses and buildings torn open.


Tornado damage in Tyler, MN





Our final day of this stretch, from Tyler to New Ulm, was longer - 87 miles - and yet slightly easier. It was overcast all day, and very, very humid: between the rising heat and humidity, the coming days will be uncomfortable. But the wind, while still strong, became less of an obstacle and even helped us at times, becoming southwesterly. We started early and made good time, riding thrugh the town of Walnut Grove, MN, yet another town that Laura Ingalls Wilder made famous. (We've been riding almost exclusively on U.S. 14 since Pierre, SD, by the way, and it's been designated the Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Highway.) Towns were small and mostly farming communities; surrounding areas featured lots of red barns and cornfields. We breezed along until the final dozen miles, east of the town of Sleepy Eye, when a brief rain caused the wind to shift into a stiff headwind.





Corn field east of Sleepy Eye, MN

Luckily our visit to New Ulm this weekend coincides with one of their major festivals celebrating the town's Germanic heritage, dating back to 1854. We are staying in a dorm on the campus of Martin Luther College (preparing men and women for careers in Lutheran religious service), right across from the 102-foot Hermann Heights Monument (erected in the 1890s, and similar to one in Germany, depicting Hermann the Cherusci, whose army liberated Germany from Roman rule in 9 A.D. and whom Martin Luther made an emblem of German nationalism.) The town is hosting its annual Bavarian Blast at the county fairgrounds, and a group of about a dozen of us went to partake in it last night, listening and dancing to the largely polka music, soaking up the cultural elements, especially the people in traditional clothing and the costumed Narren (a word in German meaning "group of fools") who led the dancing and increased the revelry under the main tent, while under the second, less raucous tent there were less fearsome-looking gnomes. And for me the real highlight was Gabe's behavior at the festival: Gabe decided to come along, although at first he was wary since the beer was off-limits. He asked me, "Do you think there'll be anyone my age?" The answer proved to be yes: there were many young people. Most were children, but there were also some very pretty teenage girls, three of whom were honorary princesses of the festival. Gabe found the atmosphere energizing: he danced a lot; he sang, joining the polka band leader in a rousing version of "That's Amore"; and he also chatted up and danced with one of the princesses, named Morgan, who agreed to a date with him for this afternoon.


Big Riders heading for the Bavarian Blast


The Jolly Huntsmen (polka band)


Dancing with Gertie the Goose


Some of the Narren ("group of fools")


The Narren of New Ulm

Overall Gabe had a great week: he's been riding better, behaving better, and enjoying himself more. He's also becoming noticeably stronger. On the road we've been riding together more; at other times he's been passing me; and several days this week he beat me to the finish. He also handled the wind and the rain without complaint, enjoying the challenges and his ability to meet them. The improvement I've seen in him over the past two weeks - his physical and mental transformation - has been remarkable, and for me it's one of the major story lines of this ride.

Meanwhile on a personal note, 1,860 miles into this latest bike trip, I've now reached the 50,000-mile mark for total miles in my bicycle travels. The New Ulm Bavarian Blast was a great way to celebrate.


Gabe in dance contest with Big Rider Kat Narvaez


Gabe with his new friend, festival princess Morgan


Gabe, Morgan, and one of the Narren


Gabe joining in on "That's Amore"

Greetings from Rapid City, SD

Hi, All,

We're enjoying our latest off-day after a five-day, 450-mile ride from Billings, Montana. The weather has continued to be excellent, with temperatures consistently cooler than when I rode this same ride in '06. The winds have also been generally favorable, and when they have turned against us, they haven't been strong enough to seriously deter our progress. Wind will be the biggest factor on the next leg of our journey, as we cross South Dakota, but so far so good. And meanwhile the forecast is calling for daily highs in the high-80s, a world of difference from the last time I was in Rapid City, when the temperature hit 116, and the next day the group rode 100 miles through the Badlands with the temperature reaching 111 degrees.

In regard to Gabe, he's doing much better. There's been a marked improvement this week in his attitude toward the ride and toward CharLlton, our ride director. I was particularly impressed with his accomplishment on the day that we rode between Sheridan and Gillette, Wyoming. It was a hilly ride and 112 miles, the longest day mileage-wise of the whole trip. The group woke at first light - 4:30 a.m. Tents had to be broken town, all gear stowed in the truck, and breakfast eaten in order to leave at 5:30. Gabe managed this, rising and readying himself without complaint; and he made it to Gillette eleven hours later ahead of many other riders and with a smile on his face. He's seemingly enjoying the ride more, radiates pride in his accomplishments, and speaks confidently of the challenges ahead. As with all of us, Gabe is dealing with various aches and discomforts, but he's coping well and has been earnest and forthright in asking Charlton and fellow riders for advice.

The past five days have been really enjoyable. The miles we've covered have been extreme because we're traveling through remote areas: between Sheridan and Gillette, for instance, in the course of 112 miles, we passed through only one town - Clearmont, Wyoming, population 115. But at the same time, we've been soaking in the Western scenery and having fun in the towns where we've stayed, getting a sense of the local culture and some strong doses of Americana. In Billings, Montana, Gabe and I attended a minor league baseball game - the Billings Mustangs versus the Missoula Osprey. Gabe bought a Mustangs cap and also was doused on the hot afternoon by the water-gun wielding Mustangs mascot. The game was shortened when a violent storm blew in, ending the game in the eighth inning due to the strong wind gusts, rain, and lightning. Gabe and I ducked into a Perkins restaurant across the street from the stadium, and by the time we'd finished dinner, the storm had passed and the sun was shining.


The Billings Mustang ...


... squirting Gabe

The next day, July 4, we had a very short easy ride - 55 miles from Billings to Hardin, MT, on the border of the Crow Indian Reservation. A tailwind sped us along, and all the riders were in by noon. Then many of us spent the afternoon at the Fourth of July rodeo at the Big Horn County Fairgrounds. It was the first rodeo I'd ever attended, and I found it fascinating to wander around, people- and animal watching, and seeing the action up close, especially the men's bronco riding and women's barrel riding competitions. Two aspects of the rodeo particularly heartened me. I loved the sense of community and especially the comfortable coexistence between the local whites and Native Americans. Everyone enjoyed the Indian relay race; locals had specifically told us not to miss it, saying it was the most exciting event of the day. All of the participants of the three-lap race were Native Americans. There were five teams in color-coded clothing, and each team had one rider who raced his horse bareback around the outside track and then twice, after each lap, had to switch horses, jumping off one horse and onto another.


Indian relay race


Bronco riding


Pole bending competition (like slalom racing, but with horses)


Pre-teen steer riding

The other wonderful aspect of the rodeo was how family-friendly and inclusive it was. Everyone was able to participate, from the littlest children: there was one race for toddlers under a year and a half. Older children, in various age groups, participated in three-legged races, races while balancing eggs on spoons, etc. Pre-teen boys risked injury riding steers (rather than bulls); pre-teen girls competed in goat-roping (instead of calf-roping), and there was a "sweethearts race" in which women rode straight for 100 years or so, then had to turn 180-degrees whiile their male partner jumped on and held on to her as they raced back to the finish. It was all a lot of fun to watch, and a really rich, colorful scene. Afterward I stayed up, while other riders had turned in, to watch the sunset (we really go to sleep early!) and then the fireworks several miles away but visible across the wheat fields.


One of the youngest riders


Mother and contestant from the toddler race ...


Sunset in Hardin, MT

Tuesday, July 5, we rode 85 miles from Hardin, MT, to Sheridan, WY. The first miles took us through the Crow Indian Reservation and past the Little Bighorn Battlefield (site of Custer's last stand) which I had visited in 2006, then following the Little Bighorn River, with views of the Bighorn Mountains in the distance. Having skipped the batlefield side-trip, I arrived at the Sheridan KOA by 1:00 p.m. and spent the afternoon soaking in the pool and conserving my energy for the long ride to Gillette. All of this section of Montana and Wyoming was predominantly grassland with rolling hills - cattle country (also lots of deer, antelope, and mosquiotes). It was much greener and wetter than it had been in '06 thanks to the late spring and abundant rain. Nearing Gillette, though, the predominant industry is coal production. We passed a large coal mine on the way into town - a large hole on the ground torn open by huge bulldozers and the ore removed in huge Tonka-like trucks. Then the next night in Newcastle, WY, the town was also dominated by energy: there was a large oil refinery, and wee lost sleep because we were camped near the railroad tracks, where long freight trains consisting entirely of coal cars passed by, horns blaring, all night long, at times in intervals of only a few minutes. The ride to Newcastle was also 85 miles and much flatter than the hilly ride from Sheridan to Gillette. En route I saw more antelope and a prairie dog town, but overall I rode fast, finishing just after noon, before the day grew too hot and the strong sidewinds started gusting.


Quiet roads between Billings and Hardin ...


Between Hardin and Sheridan ...


Outside of Sheridan WY ...


And between Sheridan and Gillette.

My fast ride to Newcastle also gave me some extra energy for yesterday's ride, which in terms of scenery was the most spectacular and, because I opted to ride some extra miles, was also the hardest. We began the day climbing across the state line to South Dakota and into the Black Hills National Forest. The road then grew steeper, more winding and narrow as we began traversing the Black Hills. The colors were dazzling - bright green grassland, dark-trunked firs, and the large, bulbous rock formations beneath a cloudless blue sky. Our lunch stop was in the town of Custer, which is gaudily commercialized, including a Flintstones-themed amusement park and campground and many, many curio shops; but then we rode through Custer State Park, which was comparatively pristine. Some riders saw bighorn sheep, and Rich, our mechanic, saw a bison; I wasn't quite as lucky, but there again were lots of deer and antelope. It was such a perfect day for riding that I asked permission from Charlton to go off-route to see more of the Black Hills.


Black Hills


Antelope

The area is so beautiful that I didn't want to merely repeat the route I'd traveled in '06; so instead of exiting the park, heading east, I cut north on Iron Mountain Road and headed for Mt. Rushmore. A fellow rider, Bernie Lapera of Carbondale, PA, had the same idea; we met up along the way and rode the rest of the day together. It was a strenuous trip, with miles and miles of climbing - a scenic byway, off-limits to commercial traffic as well as trailers and RVs because of the road's narrowness and the low clearance of its three tunnels - holes blasted through the granite. Along the way we could see Mt. Rushmore in the distance, our first view coming when we were ten miles away. We reached the summit of Iron Mountain by climbing a long series of switchbacks, then descended before having to climb the two-mile, ten-percent grade to reach the monument. The scenery and the beauty of the day made, as Bernie said, "every pedal stroke worth it.". Bernie declared it the greatest day he'd ever spent on a bicycle, despite the tough final 24 miles on a four-lane highway to reach Rapid City, and I concurred that it was a wonderful ride. In all I rode 103 miles, adding 22 to the main route. It was a big challenge that left me exhausted by the end, but I have today to rest up and recover before the 100-mile ride through the Badlands tomorrow.


Iron Mountain Road


Mt. Rushmore from a distance


Bernie Lapera and four presidents

Greetings from Billings, MT

Hi, All,

The 2011 Big Ride Across America continues to roll along. We're enjoying a day off in Billings after a tiring four-day trek covering 350 miles from Missoula. From the ride's start, then, we've covered 940 miles over the first two weeks, leaving five weeks and 2360 miles to go. Overall the conditions have been nearly ideal, although there have been a few hitches over the past few days - an afternoon rainstorm with strong wind gusts and some hail, some rough patches of road, and on our final afternoon a mix of unpleasant elements: a headwind; heat; a flat, barren landscape; sporadic, fast-moving traffic (speed limit 70); and an uninterrupted rumble strip trapping us in the shoulder, which was debris-filled and had a chip and seal surface. Really, though, there has been little to complain about. Temperatures have been cool, we've had mostly tailwinds thus far, and our support staff has been taking excellent care of us. The ride has been so much easier than when I did it five years ago, when daily temps were 10-20 degrees hotter and we didn't have half the amenities the Lung Association has been providing, that I feel twinges of guilt reporting the details to my fellow veterans of the Big Ride of '06.

I've also been amazed, given the far better conditions this year, that we in 2006 had as much fun as we did. Each day, feeling depleted as I ride to the finish, I wonder how I withstood it back in '06, when the same afternoon storm between Ovando and Avon lasted longer, was even more intense, and I wasn't dressed as well; or when the temperature on the ride into Billings was in the high-90s instead of the mid-80s. Am I finding the ride just as hard simply because I'm five years older? And what's going to happen over the next week and a half, between here and Pierre, South Dakota, when the ride gets even harder? In '06, on the 100-mile day through the Badlands, between Rapid City and Kadoka, the temperature reached 111 degrees. If it happens again, I worry that enduring it will be harder because we won't be as acclimated to the heat ...

Another humbling aspect of repeating the journey has been confronting my faulty memory, especially over the past day and a half, as I've traveled back over landscape that I only experienced in 2006. (Until midday on Friday, when we reached White Sulphur Springs, I'd ridden most of the route multiple times over my many summer journeys.) What I remembered about the ride between White Sulphur Springs and Harlowton, for instance, was the huge tailwind we benefitted from and a vision of windmills along a flat stretch of high plains. This time we again had the tailwind, and the windmills were still there, but they were merely a snapshot along a stretch of fifty miles; the route was actually very hilly and included several stiff climbs, none of which I remotely remembered. Likewise the route yesterday between Lavina and Billings I recalled as being dead flat and paralleling railroad tracks. That stretch was about fifteen miles out of fifty, and the other 35 miles were nearly all uphill! The fact that I have no memory of all that hard work makes me think that either (a) I'm a naturally positive person who focuses on the good or (b) five years ago I was in much better shape.

I'll interrupt my fretting to summarize the latest leg of the journey. Wednesday, June 29 - Missoula to Avon, MT, 99 miles. Like every morning thus far, we began riding at about 7:00 a.m. with the temperature about 50, i.e., nice and cool, with lots of clouds and strips of fog amid the mountains. We traveled east on Rt. 200, upstream along the Blackfeet River, and then cut south on Rt. 141 toward Avon. The forecast called for an afternoon storm, so I was better prepared than I had been when the same thing happened in '06: clouds rolled in from over the Continental Divide and within minutes the storm hit - wind, hard rain, and light, slightly stinging hail. It started when I was 18 miles from Avon, stopped at milepost 11, started again at milepost 8, and ended for good at milepost 5, when the sky then turned bright blue, bathing me in sunshine, and the temperature climbed back into the low 70s. By the time I reached the Avon Cafe, I was nearly dry and enjoyed a cup of coffee with a warm slice of caramel apple walnut pie. (Gabe, who was behind me, rode through the same storm, and he enjoyed the challenge of it; it was exciting, he reported, and as conditions worsened, he yelled at it, "Is this all you got?" "Bring it on!" etc. That used to be my attitude also, long ago ...)


Traveling east from Missoula - cloudy morning ...

... with fog

The Garnet Range

The Swan Range

Beyond is the southern edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness

Sunset in Avon

Thursday, June 30 - a much easier day from Avon to Townsend, MT, only 62 miles. In the morning we rode over the Continental Divide at MacDonald Pass (elevation 6320) and then descended 2200 feet over 12 miles to reach Helena. From there it was only another 35 or so over relatively flat terrain - high plains - to Townsend. A tailwind sped us along, and Gabe and I were both done for the day by 12:30 p.m.


View from MacDonald Pass, east toward Helena

Outdated billboard in Helena (the state capitol)

Between Helena and Townsend

Friday, July 1 - Townsend to Harlowton, MT, 99 miles. This had been my favorite day in '06, and was equally satisfying this time, with bright sun and significantly cooler temperatures. We rode east through the Big Belt Mountains, ascending in a shaded canyon, fast-moving Deep Creek rushing beside us, and then rising above the tree line into high plains. After 40 miles, at the lunch stop in White Sulphur Springs, I took a 20-minute break to soak in the hot springs. (Gabe, who again rode behind me, skipped it; his loss.) Then the 60-mile ride to Harlowton, while very hilly most of the way, was eased by the huge tailwind, just as it was in '06. My speed on flat stretches ranged between 18-22 mph, and since the road was so quiet - cars few and far apart - the loudest sound was the whishing of the tall grass.

Cresting the pass in the Big Belt Mountains (U.S. 12 east of Townsend)

View of the Big Belts from White Sulphur Springs

Saturday, July 2 - Harlowton to Billings, 92 miles. The first half of the day, between Harlowton and Lavina, was exceptionally pretty, following the valley along the Musselshell River. We sped along, again benefiting from a tailwind, and saw lots of sheep herds, rim rock, and evidence of flooding from when earlier this year the river rose above its banks. The last fifty miles, south of Lavina were less scenic and harder, as we climbed onto higher plains, the day grew hotter, and the wind shifted against us for the first time in days. I got my first flat tire, spent 20 minutes fixing it, and by the time I reached Billings was ready for a rest. This afternoon Gabe and I have tickets to a AAA-league baseball game: the Billings Mustangs against the Missoula Osprey.


Rim rock (Musselshell River valley) between Harlowton and Ryegate


Evidence of flooding (between Ryegate and Lavina)

I remembered this flat stretch between Lavina and Billings ...

... and the freight trains alongside it.

Okay, so back to my fretting. As a postscript I ought to report my concerns about Gabe, who has run afoul with our ride leader, Charlton DuRant, and has been on the verge of being sent home. This issues are mainly ones of safety: Gabe has broken several rules, beginning with being caught riding with earphones, listening to his iPod. In orientation, Charlton emphatically prohibited such use, saying that impaired hearing can lead to accidents. Gabe has also been guilty several times of riding too far out in the road, as opposed to staying close to the road's edge or within the shoulder. And finally he's been slow to rise and pack in the morning. The truck that carries the group's equipment is an important support vehicle during the day (it carries provisions for our lunch stop, for instance), so it must be fully loaded in the morning before the riders eat breakfast. One of the biggest challenges of the Big Ride is conforming to the extreme discipline such an arduous trip requires, and Gabe is going to have to make the adjustments. He's done a great job over the past two days: he's riding better and improving his attitude, treating Charlton (who is terrific) with more respect. I really hope Gabe can keep it up and make it all the way to Washington, DC. It will be tragic if he doesn't, especially since he's proved he has the physical ability and toughness to make it. The biggest challenges that remain for him are mental.


Gabe enjoying himself (Note: properly, in the shoulder ...)


Riding straight as an arrow ...


... with Kenny Maruyama (of Chicago, IL) behind him.