Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 70

Trip Log – Day 63 – Pine Bluff, WY to Cheyenne, WY

July 7, 2015 – Overcast, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 49

Miles to Date: 3,768

States to Date: 17

The sky dome was complete grey when I left the Pine Bluffs and it stayed that way all day. I was nervous about my route options – they all involved service roads or country roads that I know from experience might be gravel. But not in Wyoming! A nice paved route near, but never on, I-80 all the way to Cheyenne. Having good roads made it easier to counter the strong wind and occasional rain.

There were no breakfast options in Pine Bluffs, but there was a TA Truck Stop 24 miles away and a local one 16 miles on. I arrived at the first when the wind and rain were on an uptick, so I pulled off the bleak landscape and entered what could have been a scene from The Twilight Zone. The room was rich in pungent smells and colorful decorations. Five Indians sat at two separate tables speaking Punjab. I didn’t realize at first that they were the owners and staff; I the only customer. The proprietor greeted me graciously and while his son prepared spicy paan with yogurt and mango chutney for breakfast, he showed off his display of boxing clippings and medals. The gentleman’s English was enthusiastic rather than clear, so I’m not sure exactly what sport he championed and whether he won 400, 800, or 1,000 medals, but I was impressed nonetheless. The food didn’t match what I ordered, but was quite good; the five dollars he charged me had no relationship to any menu price. But we both seemed satisfied with our interchange. When I asked what brought him from Punjab to Wyoming, the man answered, “Lucky!”

I kept on to Cheyenne, which proved to be much more of a city than I expected. The exurbs have ugly, boxy houses just like any metro area and the central city has more one-way streets than anyplace I’ve been since Chicago. The Capital District is large and impressive, the downtown a bit ragged but the Union Depot beautifully restored. The painted Cowboy boots on the street corners are fun. I spent a few hours working in the Public Library, a recent building filled with cycle enthusiasts who wanted to know about my Surly and my journey. At four I met with Jim Magagna of the Wyoming Stock Grower’s Association, who had a unique perspective on tomorrow.

I backtracked to the northeast part of town where my warmshowers host, Tom, made a terrific pork chop dinner and then we hit a local pub for beer. Tom’s an early riser, so it was good by me that we were both in bed just after nine.

Trip Log – Day 62 – Scottsbluff, NE to Pine Bluff, WY

July 6, 2015 – Overcast, 65 degrees

Miles Today: 69

Miles to Date: 3,719

States to Date: 17

Today marks the first day of month three of my cycling adventure, and everything was different! I woke up ten hours after I put my head on the pillow, in the exact same position I laid down – now that is sound sleep. I wasn’t ravenous, thanks to yesterday’s hearty china buffet. And the usual clear morning sky had turned to putty.

I pedaled through downtown Scottsbluff. I wasn’t hungry enough for a full breakfast, but I did savor their Deco movie palace. I crossed the swollen and muddy North Platte River to Gering where, hungry or not, I couldn’t resist the bakeries. I ate my first Grebel, a German fried cake with cinnamon sugar and allspice at The Mixing Bowl. Then I discovered the Gering Bakery, which was packed, and so enjoyed a Long John and chocolate milk. Stopping at bakeries may become my avocation.

 

I was fully fueled for the long climb out of the valley and the cycling was easy: cool weather, no sun, even a tailwind. The gloom obscured famous Chimney Rock, but it didn’t erase the many signs of the Oregon Trail, which passed through this valley. I pondered the people who travelled so long and hard fueled by hope and determination rather than pastry. We humans are an odd lot, part herd animal, part lone wolf, social yet solitary, clinging to our past yet always questing for more. The Oregon Trail is not a mere historical artifact. It’s another piece in the human continuum for expansion; predated by seafarers and followed by our conquest of space. The will to leave all behind and strike out for the new and better is elemental: there are more immigrants/refugees/wanderers/explorers on earth today than at any time in history.

Deep, diffuse thoughts burn cycle time, and I was in Kimball just after noon. I met with John Versay, the General Manager of the Western Nebraska Observer, local newspaper since 1885, to discuss small town news and tomorrow. He recommended the Java Blend for lunch; the stone fired pizza is excellent; worth the side trip from the Oregon Trail and even closer to I-80.

The last twenty miles of my trip was along old US 30, America’s central artery; Interstate 80 was a half-mile to my right, the main line of the Union Pacific 500 feet on my left. Long fright trains went by in each direction every half an hour or so, hauling cars, food, lumber, oil. My road was empty, not a soul lived within miles, and yet all this traffic kept whizzing by.

 

I got to Pine Bluffs, WY after four and had to stop at the huge Our Lady of Peace Shrine outside of town. I checked into the Gater Motel and enjoyed a quiet night.

Trip Log – Day 61 –Hemingford, NE to Scottsbluff, NE

July 5, 2015 –Clear, 95 degrees then T-storms

Miles Today: 62

Miles to Date: 3,650

States to Date: 16

I woke early and refreshed despite a night of loud fireworks followed by even louder thunderstorms. I headed west on Nebraska Route 71 while the moon was still showing its face.

I passed my first large fields of wheat, which are quite beautiful in the shimmering morning light.

 

I kept up a good pace until the road turned south. Fortunately, the wind shifted to a more favorable direction, but unfortunately the “Road Work Next 10 Miles’ sign spelled trouble. I’ve traveled some road construction areas that were newly paved, just not striped. But today I hit ten miles of fresh milled surface. For over an hour, every part of my Surly and me jiggled and jangled. When I finally hit smooth pavement I stopped to check bolts. My bike was sturdy as ever, though it took a while for my head screws to settle.

The rest of the ride into Scottsbluff was easy – the final ten miles a gentle down slope. I got into town to attend at last part of the Sunday service of The Abbey, and then had a long conversation about tomorrow with Father A.J. Severns.

 

 

By three the sky was growing dark, so I headed to a China Buffet to sit out the storm. The fiercest storm of my entire journey proved benign in my dry booth surrounded by egg rolls, fried rice, mushrooms with oyster sauce, pork with onions, and, of course, sponge cake rolls with vanilla ice cream. By six, the storm wasn’t quite over, but I let the wind push me eight blocks to my motel and checked in before the predicted hail fell. So far, I have been lucky in ducking nature’s wrath.

Trip Log – Day 60 –Chadron, NE to Hemingford, NE

July 4, 2015 –Clear, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 43

Miles to Date: 3,588

States to Date: 16

The gods of cycling never let life be easy too long. Today I had 36 miles into the wind and was more exhausted doing that than twice the mileage yesterday. I took a late start and then spun fifteen miles of long but pretty climb up the Pine Ridge. That leveled off into High Plains, though the topography kept climbing and the wind held strong. The only other person working was a sole farmer baling his hay.  The John Deere attachment is like a giant chicken – it collects the hay and then out pops a giant hay egg.

  

South winds bring moisture, and sure enough by three thunderheads formed. I turned west for the last seven miles, which proved easy riding in the cooling shadow of the massive cloud. I arrived at Hemingford at four, just as the first drops began to fall. Everything was clear by five. Unfortunately my warmshowers host had to work so we didn’t get as much time together as I hoped. Still I was glad for the cozy attic room with a nice fan.

Trip Log – Day 59 – Custer, SD to Chadron, NE

July 3, 2015 –Clear, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 85

Miles to Date: 3,545

States to Date: 16

If I keep having days like today for a year, I’m going to have to create new superlatives. The touring today was phenomenal!

I woke before my alarm, fully refreshed, ate my six Kaloches and a pint of cottage cheese, drank a cup of cabin coffee, and was on the road before seven a.m. All day on U.S. 385, I road number I know well because U.S. 385 goes through Levelland, Texas, where I lived in 1978 – only 800 miles away! The morning was cool, the breeze light, the road empty, the shoulder perfect, the slope downhill.

The roadside was gorgeous until I got to Pringles, which has a cool bicycle sculpture amidst all kind of junkyards. Just when I was thinking that man has no respect for nature, I came to a huge section of blighted trees, and realized that sometimes nature has no respect for nature as well. The bug infestations in the Dakotas are severe this year.

 

I got to Wind Song National Park before nine. Never heard of the place before, but it’s majestic. Teddy Roosevelt made it our seventh National Park – who knew? Wind Song’s main feature is an immense cave – 212 miles long. I skipped that, as I am not into caves, and spent most of my time adoring the Prairie Dog towns and keeping a keen eye out for Bison. They roam free in the park – I had to cross a cattle guard getting in and out – and are notoriously unfriendly to cyclists. I didn’t want a race with a bison, and thankfully avoided it.

 

 

Arrived in Hot Spring’s too early for lunch but found a BBQ place that was willing to dish me up, which was good as I had no sure services for the next fifty miles.

US 385 follows the Falls Creek out of Hot Springs, which terminates in a calendar worthy cascade of rocks and rapids. And then, quick as that, the Black Hills are over and the Prairie regains the upper hand. A mile beyond the falls, the scene behind was mountains, ahead only plain.

  

Lucky me, there was a cafe in Oerlich, and so I took a break in the hottest part of the day. The place was empty when I walked in. “Where is everybody?” I asked. “Haying,” the waitress responded. A few other guys trickled in, but she was right. On my way out of town I saw several combines churning hay. Someone even rowed the grass along the highway, which makes good sense. Might as well put that grass along the road to use.

Southwest South Dakota is one giant federal playground where beer is easy and gambling machines are rampant. What isn’t National Park is National Forest, and what isn’t National Forest is National Grassland. The roads are terrific; the number of RV’s too high to count. So it was easy to spot the Nebraska border, where the four lane divided highway turned into two-lane blacktop and the State Line Casino marked the divide.

No worry, a narrower 385 is still plenty for the scant traffic, and the Nebraska landscape is even more fantastic than South Dakota’s. If cycling the Dakota’s is like riding on the crest of the earth, Nebraska is skimming across an immense marble batter. The green grass and yellow goldenrod swirl in and around each other in dizzying swales. The road disappears to a thread. The afternoon turned blistering hot, the horizon melted into a blurry haze. I spun the last twenty miles to Chadron in a dreamscape.

Fortunately, I stayed alert. For although I avoided stray Bison at Wind Song, I came upon a large white animal roaming the side of the road ahead of me: a small horse, a large dog, an albino burro? I slowed to a crawl; thankful the wind wasn’t sending my scent its way. Eventually it crossed the road and disappeared behind a cattle guard. I approached, keeping my eye in its direction. When I came along the guard, the mammoth canine turned and came at me. I pedaled like crazy; thankful a pickup was coming over the rise between the huge creature and me. I kept my max speed for a half-mile or more before finally looking back. All clear.

 I arrived in Chadron at a nice motel, got cool and clean, walked over to Safeway and bought fried chicken and muffins, which I ate outdoors. Took a walk through the quiet prairie town. People were setting off all kinds of firecrackers. I particularly liked this gracious old house with a cool greenhouse/garage. When I got back to my motel, the innkeeper was holding court in his gazebo with beers all around. Back to my room, I fell asleep amidst the sounds of rockets red glare smack in the middle of this remarkable country. Happy Birthday USA!

Trip Log – Day 58 –Rapid City, SD to Custer, SD

July 2, 2015 –Big clouds, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 43

Miles to Date: 3,460

States to Date: 15

I woke early, enjoyed an awesome smoothie with greens and berries, and pedaled up along Skyline Drive in Rapid City with my hosts Sherry and Fred. They took me about five miles to the where local roads give out to U.S. 16, and I proceeded on toward Mount Rushmore. Today’s ride was short on distance but long on climb: over 5,000 vertical feet. The going was slow, the scenery spectacular. I stopped for breakfast in Keystone, a Mexican place that had a breakfast buffet with great huevos rancheros, pancakes, and fresh fruit. Fully fueled, I pedaled up to Mount Rushmore.

 

I had learned in Rapid City that the facilities at Mount Rushmore were much changed since I was last there, in 1982. The words ‘parking structure’ gave me worry. But I found the National Monument much better organized, capable of handling crowds, and offering more ways to appreciate the four Presidents than previously. Of course, I was predisposed to like the changes when the parking lady waved my bicycle in without the $11 parking fee.

Thirty-three years ago, we came upon the sculptures through winding rustic paths. Now there is a grand, axial concourse with a series of portals that create a procession: from parking to information, along a parade of state flags, to an overlook plaza that sits on top of the museum and in front of the amphitheater. The architecture is simple but monumental. It accommodates a huge summer crowd without competing with the sculptures. They’ve also added a nice winding path that allows people who can handle 250 steps to get very close to the base. I was happy to see so many people take that trail, sad to hear so much hoofing along the way. Americans sure are fat.

  

By noon the sky was threatening, so I mounted my trusty Surly and headed toward Custer, with a brief check on the Crazy Horse monument, still in construction. I had a reservation at a cabin court in Custer that turned out to be two cuts above my usual fare, so I was happy to arrive early, for although my ride had not been long, it had been hard.

 I took an evening stroll through Custer, which had live music and other July 4th weekend festivities in progress. I bought a six pack of Kolaches, South Dakota’s state pastry, to heat up for breakfast in the morning. Custer is a tourist town, but like my cabin, a cut above many.

 I like the bison that command each corner. I got home in time to watch the sun set from my porch swing and was in the sack by nine. I’m such a party guy.

 

Trip Log – Day 57 –Rapid City, SD

July 1, 2015 –Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 5

Miles to Date: 3,417

States to Date: 15

I spent the day tootling around Rapid City, one of the nicest places I have been. I slept until almost nine; my warmshowers hosts were all gone by the time I awoke. I let myself out and pedaled downtown, where I found Jessica at her Canvas 2 Paint shop for a proper goodbye. I also stopped by her bike shop next door. Downtown Rapid City has actual scale sculptures of al the Presidents on each corner, a nice touch that animates the place.

  

I had a morning interview with Rob Timm, Director of the Chiesman Center for Democracy. Afterward I enjoyed lunch at the VFW, a super good deal and an opportunity to talk with veterans and active service men. After lunch I met folks on the sidewalk, including Gerard Black Elk, a fascinating Native American. I headed out the Mount Rushmore Highway, passed a few ‘Think’ signs that mark roadside fatalities and are absolutely everywhere in South Dakota. I stopped at Mostly Chocolates, where Jessica’s children work, said Adieu to them and enjoyed a couple of delicious chocolate covered Oreos. I might not be cycling much, but my appetite is still big.

I spent a few hours catching up on the Internet and then spun the short but incredibly steep ride up Woodside Drive. Rapid City has a steep ridge that divides the city, and my second warmshowers hosts live in a solar house that overlooks a gorgeous canyon. Sherry and Fred prepared delicious fajitas with homemade salsa and offered chocolate-dipped macaroons for dessert. They cycled the West Coast in 2008 and gave me many good tips for my upcoming route

Trip Log – Day 56 – Spearfish, SD to Rapid City, SD

June 30, 2015 – Overcast, Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 56

Miles to Date: 3,412

States to Date: 15

There are several ways to get from Spearfish to Rapid City, depending on how hard a person wants to cycle. I opted for challenging morning and easy afternoon, which proved a good plan. Instead of taking the roads parallel to I-90 from Spearfish to Sturgis, I climbed U.S 85 for six miles, and then took the steep descent into Deadwood. It wasn’t my favorite climb, but then there’s no such thing as a ‘favorite climb’. When I turned east on US 14A from Deadwood to Sturgis I was treated to one of the nicest rides of my journey, through a canyon of tall pines, exposed stone, a loud brook and colorful wildflowers. Even the grey day couldn’t detract from their splendor. More than worth the uphill climb.

    

I got to Sturgis by eleven. The town is bustling with construction; the 75th motorcycle rally is less than a month away and they are expecting one million visitors! I found the offices of the famous Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, which is actually an entire city department. Tammy Bohn had great insights into tomorrow, but more importantly, we became fast friends and after an hour together when I left exchanged hugs all around.

 

I enjoyed the pulled pork special at Bob’s Family Restaurant and then headed to Rapid City. This time I opted for the Sturgis Road, which mirrors I-90 but has plenty of its own character. The I-90 corridor from Sturgis to Rapid City is developing fast, and the mix of ranches, campgrounds, golf courses, housing developments and RV superstores is fascinating. After spending a week in farming communities with declining population, I spent some pedal time considering why an area focused on tourism can be expanding so fast. It takes fewer and fewer people to turn out commodities, so agricultural population is waning. Meanwhile we crave more and more exotic experiences (call me Exhibit A), so outdoors oriented places like the Black Hills are growing.

   

I arrived in Rapid City by three, with only a few scattered showers to keep me cool. I took a McDonalds Internet break (none of those in North Dakota) and got to my warmshowers host’s house shortly after six. Jessica and I sat on her back patio for hours talking and eating and drinking local beer while her three children and their friends came and went. The night sky was glorious until a flash thunderstorm finally sent us to indoors.

Trip Log – Day 55 –Buffalo, SD to Spearfish, SD

June 29, 2015 – Sunny, 95 degrees

Miles Today: 84

Miles to Date: 3,365

States to Date: 15

Buffalo, SD was hopping at 6 a.m. with guys wanting to play in dirt. When I came down early for breakfast at the Tipperary Motel, two Mexican-American laborers were having breakfast before heading out to dig the foundation for a carport and three paleontologists from Toronto were packing a pick-up with supplies to drive ten miles outside of town and scrape at fossils all day. On the way out of town I passed the five dirt bikers I met at lunch yesterday, rousing from their night of sleep in the park and preparing to ride their bikes in mud again all day. I strive to stay vertical on pavement, but maybe I’m missing something.

Still, I was happy to avoid dirt in the longest unsupported ride of my trip – seventy miles without a soul through a gorgeous Western landscape under still, sweltering skies. Folks in Buffalo told me there was a gas station twenty miles out. When I came to Reding I found a collection of three-dozen abandoned vehicles, two mobile home shells, and a small building with the words ‘Pop and snacks’ painted on the side. I propped my bike in the structure’s shade and entered. No one. Just the remnants of a Post Office and a well-stocked refrigerator with water, pop, and tea. I drank a tea and left a buck and my card on the counter.

  

Then I pedaled for fifty miles; spinning, singing, and enjoying the amazing countryside; free-grazing herds of cattle and sheep, narrow creeks, and broad plains. Not a cloud in the sky except for the bed toupee poofs above distant buttes. At one point I stopped to absorb the silence. Beyond a distant butte I heard a chorus of cattle, their bellows like ancestral vibrations.

The shoulder was rough, so I kept to the road as much as possible, which meant a lot of ‘defensive friendliness’ in the form of waving to everyone in both directions. It’s easier to hear oncoming vehicles, especially after they pass, than the ones approaching from behind. Ever so slowly, the buttes were replaced by the outline of distant mountains.

 

I rolled into Belle Fourche before two, which was good time. I pedaled along Main Street looking for a cafe, but instead found the Green Bean Coffeehouse, which made a pleasant stop for a few hours. I left about five to cycle the fifteen miles to Spearfish.

Belle Fourche is the demarcation between barren plains and the Black Hills. Suddenly there was topography, trees, and many more signs of life. Spearfish is a cool ranching turned college and tourist town. My warmshowers host, Chad, lives in a century old house that has had dozens of additions large and small. I had the entire basement, complete with real pine paneling and a stone fireplace, to myself. We walked down the hill to a bar where that served great microbrew drafts; my first beer in week. I slept like a log in my cool basement with the windows open and gentle breeze all night.

Trip Log – Day 54 – Bowman, ND to Buffalo, SD

June 28, 2015 – Sunny, 95 degrees

Miles Today: 46

Miles to Date: 3,281

States to Date: 15

Bowman has more going for it on Sunday morning than Saturday night. The Sunday church crowd at Jabbers Family Restaurant was large, well–scrubbed, and looked like they’d enjoyed many ‘Meat Lover’s Skillet’ breakfasts. I certainly enjoyed mine.

  

It was 10:30 before I began my short ride to Buffalo, South Dakota. Even the wind took a rest day. Sixteen miles in I crossed the state line and the topography changed. No more farms, just grazing land and buttes without a spec of shade. Riding was easy and I was happy to find Suzette’s Crooked Creek Bar along the road in Ludlow. Suzette is the owner and bar mistress, her husband runs the grille, and she has all cyclists sign her counter, in exchange for free pop. I stayed an hour because Suzette and her place were tons of fun.

My last twenty miles were uneventful. Buffalo, population 390, is the smallest town I’ve stayed to date. City Hall (which is also Police and Fire and Water) is a metal building. But 3 Saloons was open on Sunday afternoon with good burgers, beer and Internet. I met a group of guys who were doing a four day motorcycle off-road crawl. They were wearing full cover suits and were a heck of a lot hotter than me. The Tipperary Motel, named for a bucking horse and not the place in Ireland, is very nice, though it’s the first motel that had a cattle grate at its driveway. I had to walk my bike across the threshold.