The Ends of the Earth

Dickinson to Amidon, North Dakota Friday, July 30,2021

My good buddy Frank sent a link to a great webcomic called xkcd (worth checking out if you’ve never seen it) when he saw where I was headed next. It’s a map of the many US towns named after more famous places.

Yup, it’s true, today’s ride took me through New England, North Dakota. Brian, who you remember got me started on this highpoint thing and has also been through here, had scoffed at it thusly: “We drove by a town called “New England” that had a sign proclaiming it Class Whatever State Football Champions in some long ago year. There were half a dozen houses, a couple of closed businesses, and there, at the end of the one main street, was the high school – looked about big enough for four rooms on each of two floors.”

So I was prepared to laugh at this incongruously-named little town I reached after battling 26 miles of uphill headwind with poor shoulders and moderate traffic, but was surprised by feeling a burst of homesickness.

All I could think of was the line “sweet New England” from the Paul Simon tune, Duncan https://youtu.be/u3_UddjEGMA

The town was a little less bleak than Brian said, and the high school was being renovated

There was a great quickstop, with a meal that really revived me, and the clerk let me have two root beers for the price of one, and got me a big cup of ice. The road out of town had a lot of construction, but one of the flagmen, Caleb, saw my predicament and gave me a Powerade and a cold bottle of water. A true Trail Angel!

The tiny town of Amidon, closest to the highpoint tomorrow, it looked like it had nothing but there was a campsite with an underground bar, Mo’s Bunker, where I had fun talking to the bartender Jodi, and two bikers, Ralph and Maynard, who told me what to expect at the upcoming Sturgis rally. All they had was fried food, not so healthy but so satisfying. I pitched my tent under the sunset, the smoke from wildfires in Canada made it once again a red rubber ball.

Sweet New England, indeed.

Distance 53 miles, 4,640 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,541 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Glen Ullin to Dickinson, North Dakota Thursday, July 29, 2021

This will be my final day on the Adventure Cycling Lewis and Clark Trail, and it gave me a sweet sendoff. Bittersweet, I guess, since I will not be following their routes again for some time. I woke up early, saw I had a favorable wind and temperature, and indulged myself by getting a couple of more hours of sleep. Made myself a sumptuous breakfast at this charming inn, chatted with the elderly couple (the husband is celebrating his 92nd birthday today) and set off into a lovely day. The landscape was muted but grand in that “big sky” kind of way. Like all of the great plains states, North Dakota tilts almost imperceptibly upward as you go west, so today I climbed a fair amount but never felt any significant hills.

My first rest stop was in the tiny town of Hebron, and I was initially concerned that everything was closed, but tucked around the corner was a repair shop/general store that had everything I wanted. It even had a little bonus, the Google Street View car was parked there, I had never seen one before. The checkout person was happy, apparently Hebron had not had a Google update since 2011.

I just checked Google Maps and the Street View has not updated yet, I wonder if he captured my bicycle parked outside the repair shop.

I had to download my free audiobook before the end of the month, so I chose The Journey of Crazy Horse, which turned out to be just the thing for this landscape. Narrated by the author Joseph Marshall, a Lakota native, his soothing tones told the story of this great man honestly, flaws and all, I could almost picture him riding through these amber waves of grain.

My lunch stop was in Richardton, and again I despaired of finding anything open, but a passerby directed me to Suzy’s Stash, which looked like a sewing shop. Sure enough, stashed in the back was a great little lunch counter. Their TaterTots stew was a welcome change from the usual convenience store fare.

My final stop at Dickinson did not look good at first, I had to deal with 2 miles of very rough construction, pulling off the road every five minutes to let the backlog of cars go by, and the town seemed to offer nothing but the usual dreary fast food joints. I heard some music playing, however, and followed it to a little street fair they have there every Thursday, with lots of food trucks.

I made the happy choice of Dog Gone Good, run by a lovely family from Clovis, California, who had moved here in hopes of finding better job prospects, associated with the oil boom. That boom had busted, but the daughter is trained in human services and is quite optimistic about finding another job. Her husband could make a great burger and fries, still not the healthiest meal but much fresher and tastier than I could’ve gotten at the usual joints. The music and conversation were a real bonus.

Altogether, a joyous day, but I look at the next few days with some trepidation. I’ll be heading due south from the North Dakota highpoint to the Black Hills, on uncertain roads and some unavoidable dirt; because of the Sturgis motorcycle rally I have reserved a whole week of lodging in advance, having been warned that rooms are almost impossible to find that week. The forecast is for seasonable temperatures in the 80s to low 90s, but I see that the prevailing winds this time of year are out of the south, and I have no room for error, these reservations are nonrefundable. There will be one 75 mile day, there was nothing in between. Fingers crossed.

Distance 53 miles, 4,587 total. Time 9 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,192 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Bismarck to Glen Ullin, North Dakota Wednesday, July 28, 2021

OK, let’s see if we can get this party restarted. I’ve licked my wounds long enough. Got out by 6:30, threaded the streets of Bismarck, and crossed the Missouri for the last time; now I am really entering the West.

Blessedly, things were easier today. It was still 58 miles, still almost 2000 feet of climbing, but the temperature just barely reached 90°, and the wind, though strong, was a crosswind, which served to keep me cooler, rather than slow me down. There were also facilities along the way, so I didn’t need to worry so much about food and water. Phone calls from friends, as always, were an elixir.

The Adventure Cycling route offered a shortcut, which saved 60 miles but required 13 miles along Interstate 94. The narrative promised “broad shoulders” but these have since been marred by a particularly noxious type of intermittent rumble strip that ate up all but 18 inches on each side. This is partially evident at far right in the photo, what you don’t see is the thin strip of rideable pavement on the other side, away from the traffic, that itself was often half covered with weeds.

I took the photo to demonstrate the occasional buttes that you would see along the way.

Irksome, but not insurmountable. I arrived at my stop for the night in the mid afternoon, had a great omelette/burrito at the Wet Spot, and was surprised that a couple I’d been chatting with had left the bartender seven dollars towards the cost of my meal. By the time I found out, they had left, and I had no way of thanking them. What a kind gesture.

Equally sweet was the bed and breakfast, the Rock Roof Inn, run by kindly elderly couple. Although they were both quite infirm, the Inn had all of the necessary amenities, and I had full run of their kitchen to serve myself a grand breakfast. It was also full of homey touches that were so appreciated after scores of sterile motel rooms. One example: a cuckoo clock!

Things are looking better already.

Distance 58 miles, 4,534 total. Time 9 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,976 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Bismarck, North Dakota Monday-Tuesday, July 26-27, 2021

Yesterday marked exactly 100 days on this ride. Presidents are often evaluated on how they did in their first hundred days, and I did some evaluating too.

4461 miles, so averaging 44.6 miles per day, even including all of the zero days and other diversions. Some challenging moments, but nothing catastrophic. I still feel perfectly healthy, I’ve lost over 30 pounds, and my BP was so low when last checked, 100/68, that I cut my BP med (olmesartan) in half. After some early problems with broken spokes and saddle tension bolts, the bike has performed flawlessly. I’ve broken a couple of mirrors, and had to replace my tires, that’s it. Other riders I have encountered have had far worse problems with their bikes, I’m really quite delighted with mine, and hope to be able to describe it in detail in a future post.

But this hot weather has really knocked the stuffing out of me. The climate scientists are calling it a “heat dome” and it’s particularly bad in the Pacific Northwest. Ironic, because by eschewing fossil fuel I’m trying to do my infinitesimal bit to mitigate the very problem that may defeat me.

Well I had these two days to nurse my (psychological) wounds and run some errands. The guy who replaced my screen protector at Verizon cheered me up with his self-deprecating humor. He had returned to his native North Dakota after being away for a while. When I asked him if he was glad to be back, his sheepish smile said it all. He was amused to be reminded of the state slogan, Be Legendary.

I visited the two bike stores in town, and they always lift my spirits. They didn’t have all the supplies I needed, but they were a great source of encouragement and local knowledge. At one of them was an amazing coincidence, I met another retired doctor from Vermont, Paul Jarris, who was biking cross country in the other direction! I mean, what are the chances? It’s like two arrows hitting each other in mid-flight. We chatted so animatedly we decided to get together for dinner. Even though it was hard to hear each other in that noisy brewery, sharing our experiences, both on the road and in Vermont, was an elixir for me.

Bismarck is my fourth state capital, and I’ve made a fetish of visiting the capitol building. This one was charming in its goofily incongruous way. I mean, where’s the dome?

I guess it’s the tallest office building in the state, which reminded me that North Dakota has the second tallest structure in the world, a TV mast outside of Fargo. It has to be so tall because the land there is so flat, there’s no hill to put it on.

There is a statue at the base of the capitol and I thought, does North Dakota have somebody famous outside of Lawrence Welk? Well, kinda

Well OK. He was in the state, not the US Supreme Court, but still.

And how can the name of the local convenience store chain not make you chuckle?

All of this, along with calls and messages from family and my weekly therapist call, succeeded in piercing the funk I was in. Not to mention chillin’ (literally) in the air-conditioned Radisson. I plotted and reserved lodging for the next few days, which calls for snagging the highpoint, White Butte, west of here and then dropping south throughout the Black Hills to Denver. That nutso motorcycle rally in Sturgis will be a challenge to avoid. Bikers of a different sort.

Hey, Lewis and Clark had to contend with much worse, and they proceeded on. So can I.

Distance 15 miles, 4,476 total. Time 3 hours with stops. Elevation gain 315 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Stateline Resort to Bismarck, North Dakota Sunday, July 25, 2021

I have a little sleep monitor on my Apple Watch, which measures my hours of total and deep sleep. Curiously, I had my deepest sleep last night, in a hot tent with a cooling breeze. Something about air-conditioned rooms interferes with restful sleeping for me.

I was determined to get going before sunrise, so I got up at three and packed hurriedly. By now it was 55°, but slated to reach 99 that afternoon. That’s a difficult range to deal with. Leaving the campground in the dark, I hit a soft spot that eluded my headlights, made me fall over and break my rearview mirror, the second time this has happened. Luckily, I had bought a spare.

The worst hills were in the early morning, and it was cool to see the sun rising like a red rubber ball, just like in the Cyrkle song. In 21 miles I had reached my original intended campground, and up a short steep hill was a little convenience store that was just opening, although it didn’t have much. Still 52 miles to go, and now the hot sun was out.

The hills were still numerous, though not quite as steep, but the worst thing was the total lack of any shade. I had lots of spare water, but it heated up in my panniers and it wasn’t very palatable. I finally found a small RV park where I could have lunch, but all they had was a picnic table in the broad sunlight. Leaving there, I had my post-prandial loginess to add to the heat and exhaustion, and I was starting to despair. Fortunately, I was able to reach my good friend Sharon on the phone, and she really bucked me up as I pedaled slowly up the hills.

With 17 miles still to go, I found a small patch of shade under a single large tree, and carefully lay my bike and myself down for a final rest. A couple of cars stopped to ask if I was OK. I was, just barely.

Readers of this blog know I have had challenges before, but this was possibly the worst. There’s just no escaping the heat. It’s weird because Vermont gets relatively little sunshine, and we are always grateful when it comes. Here, it is just a brutal unrelenting glare, and you pray for it to stop. Even if you’re an atheist.

The next two days are predicted to be over 100, there is a heat advisory, so I will be taking two rest days. I need to rethink whether continuing this trip will be possible at all. Bismarck has the last sizable airport for many hundreds of miles.

Kinda bummed tonight.

Distance 76 miles, 4,461 total. Time 10 hours with stops. Elevation gain 2,999 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Mobridge, South Dakota to Stateline Resort, North Dakota. Saturday, July 24, 2021

Again, the residual of the storms meant that I didn’t get going until after eight. That’s too late when there’s this much heat and sun. The hilliest part was in the beginning when it was relatively cool, but by the time I hit the only town, Pollock, the sun was blazing and I was in desperate need of shade and a cool drink.

Pollock initially seemed to have nothing, but on close inspection there was a bar that served food, Grumpy’s, and a visitor center. Grumpy made me one mean steak and cheese and a big chocolate cookie, along with plenty of ice water and root beer.

While dining there I meant Vina LaFave, who grew up near here and runs the visitor center next door. That center has displays about how this town was largely flooded by the formation of Lake Oahe, some of the buildings were moved to higher ground and make up the new Pollock, such as it is.

Vina warned me to watch out for rattlesnakes. They will try to avoid you, but be careful when walking through brush. She mentioned that her dog Rex used to kill rattlesnakes all the time, but when he got older his reflexes were not so good and he got badly bit. He wandered off, and the family had assumed that he had died. Four days later, looking bedraggled and very hungry, he showed up. He had gone to the riverbank and lain in the mud, which drew out the venom. Amazing that dogs have the instinct to do that.

By the time lunch was finished the wind had fully shifted into a strong hot headwind, and it was a replay of that awful day in Iowa where I only went 20 miles. This time I had 34 miles to go, and large hills lay ahead.

There was a little dazzle to this bleak situation, however, crossing for the first time into a new state by bicycle. North Dakota is one of only four states where I have never been, and it was a thrill to enter it this way, just as it was thrilling to first enter Spain by foot on the Camino.

If you zoom in on the sign you’ll see the state motto “Be Legendary”. Later when I would ask natives about it, they would just roll their eyes.

What’s more remarkable in that photo is the plume of black smoke rising just above the highway. Cars were whizzing by and seemingly paying it no mind. But I looked at it with trepidation, knowing that the fire risk was high in this drought and heat, and that a grass or brushfire whipped up by the wind can travel quite quickly. And the wind was blowing right at me. I stood there for about 10 minutes, eyeing it warily, before I decided that calling 911 would be foolish, and that it did not appear to be too serious. I proceeded on, as Meriwether and William would say.

After five more miles of battling the headwind, I despaired of reaching my campsite before dark. I happened to see a sign for the Stateline Resort, which had not appeared on any of my Google campsite searches, and I called the number. Yes, they had tent camping, yes, they had hot showers, the owner would be right over. There were still 21 miles to go to my intended campground, but I thought it best to stop here and deal with those miles before sunrise tomorrow. It would be a tailwind by then.

The owner was on his way to a wedding, so I was touched that he came over to help me. I asked him about that smoke, he thought some farmer was cleaning out his diesel tanks or something, did not seem too concerned. This would be my first night camping in the heat, there were a few trees but I had to pick my tent site carefully to make sure it would stay in the shade as the sun moved through the sky. There were a bunch of RVs, but I was the only tent there. The resort was on the lake, but the shoreline didn’t look too appetizing, and there was no one swimming.

Well, it wasn’t too bad. I prepared the only food item I had required cooking, a hot apple cobbler I have been carrying with me since the beginning of the trip. I had to ration my food to last me for breakfast and 75 more miles. My tent has an option to be as breezy as possible, it didn’t cool down to under 90 until the sun went down, but by then you could lay in the tent and not be too uncomfortable.

So North Dakota. I’ve only been in the state for five miles, don’t have a feel for it yet. So far, more rolling grassland, I do spot some dry buttes in the distance. The couple of people I’ve met have been very friendly, and the traffic seems courteous passing. I’ve always been fascinated by the state, which seemed to me to be about the bleakest and emptiest place in the country. The birthplace of Lawrence Welk, was all I knew. One of my residents had gone to medical school there, felt that having to go there was a kind of penance. Legendary? We’ll see.

Distance 50 miles, 4,385 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,922 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Gettysburg to Mobridge, South Dakota Friday, July 23, 2021

I had wanted to leave before sunrise this morning, but it was raining so I didn’t actually leave until 7:30. The rain had stopped and cleared the haze somewhat, and I got a better picture of Lake Oahe.

Despite the heat and the challenges I’ve mentioned, I have been leading a charmed life these last few days, with fairly constant southeast winds pushing me along, unusual because the prevailing winds are from the west. Today was supposed to be my comeuppance, but for most of the day, the wind was still out of the southeast and still behind me. That was appreciated, because it was quite hot at 98°, although again, not as bad as predicted . As Garrison Keillor often says, it could be worse.

There was not much more to say about today, away from the lake the landscape was monotonous, rolling fields of corn and hay, nothing worthy of a picture. As I’ve mentioned before, there is a certain majesty to the sweep of the plains, of this heartland of America, where Lewis and Clark went before me more than 200 years ago, and where so much strife with the First Nations occurred. The town of Mobridge, my destination for tonight, is reputed to be one of the possible sites where Sitting Bull was buried. How odd, how sad that they don’t know for sure.

There were violent thunderstorms overnight, quite dramatic, I was glad not to be camping. But now the front has come through, and the wind has shifted. In a few days the temperatures will be in the high 100s.

I write this early on Saturday morning, quite perplexed. The next town, actually the biggest city since Madison, is Bismarck ND, 124 miles and 6,000 vertical feet of climbing away. Essentially no facilities in between, just primitive campsites without water, with one exception: at the 72 mile mark, there is a somewhat improved campground “there’s a shower, it’s not clean but it works” and a small restaurant with a convenience store just up the hill. Temperatures today will peak out in the low 90s, but it will stay that hot well into the evening, not very conducive to camping. However, the nearest motel is 22 miles away, involving a 44 mile detour in total. Tomorrow will be hotter, but I will have a tailwind again.

I’m considering staying here another day, leaving at midnight and trying to do the whole 124 miles to Bismarck in a single day. Probably better to just deal with the headwind and hills today, have one uncomfortable night camping, and go to Bismarck tomorrow.

I know, I know, stop writing and start pedaling. I have packed quite a bit of food, and 5.5 liters of water. Reportedly little to no cell signal at the campground, so will be incommunicado. Wish me luck.

Distance 68 miles, 4,335 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,326 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Pierre to Gettysburg, South Dakota Thursday, July 22, 2021

At the end of my “zero day” in Pierre, I got a personalized tour of the city in Tami’s Corvette! (a gift from her mother)

She drove me by the state capitol

…and a number of life-sized statues of the former governors of South Dakota

There are 25 of these, called the “Trail of Governors”, peppered around the streets of Pierre in lifelike poses, really quite arresting.

Reasonably caught up with my sleep deprivation, I was able to get on the road before 7:30 the next day, to beat the heat. Tami had left at 5 to take a spin on her racing bike, we met and said goodbye 2 miles into my ride. 10 miles in, I passed a remarkable site, although it looks quite unremarkable in this photo.

I zoomed in and labeled what we were actually seeing.

That boring earthen bank is actually the Oahe Dam, with Lake Oahe behind it. The word kind of rhymes with “Hawaii”, interesting because it is almost spelled like Oahu, Hawaii’s most populous island. Anyway Lake Oahe is quite a thing, the fourth largest reservoir in the country, it stretches 231 miles between the two state capitals, Pierre and Bismarck. Its coastline is said to be longer than California’s.

By the time I hit my motel, it was 99° and I was definitely flagging. Luckily it was only 2:30, I was able to get an early steak dinner (great) and a hazy picture of the lake, with one of the few bridges that crosses it.

The next few days are slated to be in the low 100°s, so I will try to get to bed early and leave before sunrise each day. Tomorrow will be the first test of this.

Distance 58 miles, 4,267 total. Time 7 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,329 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Lower Brule to Pierre, South Dakota Tuesday-Wednesday , July 20-21, 2021

The opening line to the movie 21, about an MIT professor who trained his students to count cards in Las Vegas. In my case, that chicken dinner was no winner, and I could only choke down a few bites. So it wound up being Cheetos and root beer that sustained me over those five big hills today, I left by 6:30 in the morning, but I should’ve left earlier. I encountered a small pack of dogs wandering free in the reservation at the top of one hill, they were mildly threatening but no major problem. I hear this is not uncommon. I sure I hope I don’t have to use that pepper spray.

About 10 miles in I encountered a disheartening sign “road closed.” Rats. The only other option was to turn back and backtrack 25 miles, over to huge hills and that pack of dogs. I decided to press on and try my luck. After 3 miles of gravel, I encountered a construction worker who told me I could press on if I wanted to, but that they were digging a pipeline up ahead. Sure enough, in another half mile was one of the most dauntingly steep down-and-ups I have ever encountered.

So steep I didn’t dare ride down the soft dirt, I dismounted and inched down clutching both brake levers. A guy in that white pickup rolled by and said “it won’t be fun going up the other side!” He was right. I could push the 100-pound bike ahead only a foot or two, then clamp on the brakes and take a step up, and repeat the process, almost like using a walker. Charming. Took me almost a half hour to cross, and I was pretty grubby at the end. Luckily though, pavement started soon after. I didn’t think to ask what pipeline that was, since they’ve abandoned the Keystone Project.

The rest of the day was a drama-free, and only moderately grueling. It turns out that root-beer-and-Cheetos, while a nutritional disaster, does give you the energy to kick you over those hills, without resorting to caffeine. I did get sweeping vistas of the Missouri, and realized the landscape had changed, I was on the edge of the Badlands.

Not a scrap of shade anywhere, had to eat my snacks with the bike propped against a sign and sitting on the grass. There were crickets everywhere, bouncing off me constantly, one determined little fellow hung on for 20 miles despite my hitting 38 mph and being buffeted by crosswinds, I wanted to call him Jimminy.

I’d better be careful, though, this is a public blog. Disney is very protective of their trademarks, on Cape Cod there was a sweet little mom and pop pizza shop called Geppetto’s, until they heard from the Disney lawyers.

Finally the last hill was behind me, and I could cruise downhill into the 96° heat of Pierre, the state capital. They pronounce it “Pier” here. Spent a couple of hours shuttling between the post office and the FedEx stand, collecting my new tires, mirrors, pedals, the warranty replacement of my raincoat with the broken zipper, only the new camp pillow was delayed. Mailed in the frying pan and some other stuff back home, it was nice not to have my panniers so stuffed. The mile and a half to my warm showers hosts had a few more hills, but their home is perched on a bluff with a sweeping view.

Scott and Tami have recently retired from public service with the state government, and are both doing freelance work. They have been enthusiastic warm showers hosts, the only ones for miles, they’ve already had 11 guests this year. One was still here, Nathan, just graduated from Princeton with a masters in economics, he is biking across the country to meet his girlfriend and start his career in Philadelphia. My recent tailwinds were his headwinds, and he was taking a rest day.

I wound up following his example. We had a lovely dinner at the local popular steakhouse, but had to wait over an hour for a table and didn’t get back till well after dark. Installing my new equipment led to discovering new mechanical problems, and that I had misplaced my next Adventure Cycling map. Dealing with all this in the cool of the evening meant I didn’t get to sleep until 3AM, and I woke up still sleep-deprived, with Nathan departed, the coolest part of the day gone, and still a lot to do. It’s really Scott and Tami’s fault. If their house wasn’t so gorgeous, their hospitality so genuine and complete, and their company so enchanting no one would stay two days.

Distance 66 miles, 4,209 total. Time 10 hours with stops. Elevation gain 2,986 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria

Chamberlain to Lower Brule, South Dakota Monday, July 19, 2021

I thought it was Churchill, but it was actually Arnold Toynbee who said “history is just one damn thing after another”. I love that quote, just as I love history. Today I crossed my second Missouri River dam, the Big Bend Dam, which impounds Lake Sharpe without so much as waiting for Lake Francis Case to end. You’d think it’d have a little respect. There’s a doozy coming up at Pierre, stay tuned.

Fittingly, Big Bend Dam was completely unremarkable, not even worth photographing. All it meant was another big climb out of the Missouri Valley. I only did 36 miles today, to the last motel before Pierre, the Golden Buffalo casino. These casinos are getting depressing, they are all the same, with a smattering of customers operating the slots without emotion, slowly blowing money they don’t appear to be able to afford to lose. Every so often someone will win something, but it all appears to vanish a few moments later. Like the lottery, a poverty tax. Only this time it’s going to the First Nations, so I guess there’s some solace in that, that the former fleecees are now the fleecers.

The day started with a humorous coda to the stuck water bottle incident, I came back from the bathroom and my friends had all left, but there was this note.

The day was short, but involved one damn hill after another, in the ever-increasing heat. That’s why I needed the motel, the only campground had “no water”, was over one more huge hill, and it was not supposed to go below 80 tonight, unpleasant for camping.

I’ll have to go over that hill and five others tomorrow on the way to Pierre, again with no services, 60 miles this time. High of 96°. I need to get an early start, but the restaurant here does not open until 10 AM. There is no other food in town. After a roast beef dinner, I ordered the least-greasy meal available in a doggy bag, a chicken roll with french fries to keep in the fridge overnight, I will try to microwave it in the morning and choke it down before leaving at sunrise. From the vending machines, I bought three bottles of water, two root beers, and two bags of Cheetos for the least-stomach churning calories I could find. We’ll see how that flies.

There was some serendipity, I guess. I opened my cooking/food pannier for the first time in days, to see if I could make room for all this liquid. I had brought a frying pan and a little six-egg holder. Two and a half weeks ago, at that campground right before Charles Mound, I bought some farm fresh eggs, which reportedly can last a month if not washed or refrigerated. I had eaten three of them that first day. Now I discovered the egg case was leaking yolk, and was just beginning to smell rotten. Only a couple of things inside were contaminated, and I was able to clean things out without too much difficulty. If I’d waited one more day in this heat, it could have been a very different story.

The egg case was triple-wrapped in plastic and discarded in a bin outside, and I will ship the frying pan back home tomorrow. I’d only cooked eggs that one time anyway, in three months.

Distance 36 miles, 4,143 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,535 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria