Blog entries for biketard

Home stretch; 2069 miles down

biketard — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 20:48:54 GMT

INTERESTING MINNESOTA... Crossed from Fargo, North Dakota into Moorhead, Minnesota which is home to a plethora of gigantic tourist attractions. Big Ole is a 28-foot Viking statue in Alexandria that's welcomed visitors since 1965. There is a 13-foot prairie chicken in Rothsay, Minnesota. Fergus Falls, Minn. has a large, ground-hugging otter statue, there's an enormous Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox in Bemidji, Minn. and Frazee, Minn. has a 22-foot-tall turkey. This is turkey number two for Frazee. Their first bird was accidentally destroyed in 1998 when maintenance crews slipped with their blowtorch while prepping the bird for the Turkey Days festival. Darwin is home to the World's Largest Twine Ball.

Created by Francis Johnson, the ball is 12-feet in diameter and 17,400 pounds and housed in a gazebo in a city lot across from a park. There's even a "Twine Ball Days" festival, held the second Saturday in August. Aside from a fabulous series of well groomed paved bicycle trails, Minnesota also has the unique Dassel Area Historical Museum. The museum, housed in the old Universal Laboratories building, features the rare history of raw ergot which was used by pharmaceutical companies to save countless military and civilian lives. Ergot is a natural fungus that infects small grains like rye and grasses. The ergot is a dark-colored kernel on the head of a grain stalk. In the 1940s and 1950s women in Dassel were hired to hand pick the fungus from the grains. Pharmaceutical company Eli Lilly eventually started using the alkaloids extracted from ergot to control hemorrhaging and blood pressure. However, ergot also caused hallucinogenic effects and was an ingredient in LSD. Historians now believe ergot was a factor in the 1862 Salem Witch Trials. The trials were set off by the strange behavior of a group of young girls. Their violent shaking, hallucinating and obscene babbling were construed as the result of witchcraft. Today, one theory is they were suffering from ergotism since the cold, wet conditions favored growing of ergot in the Massachusetts Colony. Eating ergot-contaminated foods can lead to a convulsive disorder characterized by hallucinations, delusions, muscle spasms and a bunch of other symptoms. At the time, rye was a staple grain of Salem.

IMPRESSIVE BISMARCK... Bismarck, North Dakota is impressive. Great Indian and dinosaur history, fabulous Heritage Museum (free admission), wonderful parks, and the state has a $1.2 billion budget surplus. "We've been nicked in a couple places with the economy but we're not experiencing what the rest of the country is going through," said Gary Ness a local businessman and volunteer at the Heritage Museum. Ness credited the state's surplus to the oil boom in the west. There had been some cutbacks; including the Bobcat Corporation, maker of small backhoes and construction equipment. "They had to furlough some employees, but they're coming back," he said noting North Dakota has about 100% employment. SACAJAWEA... Although I've been mighty impressed with Lewis and Clark, there's a lot to be said for Indian guide Sacajawea. She was about 16-years-old when Lewis and Clark arrived at her village in 1804. Sacajawea and her husband, French trader Toussaint Charbonneau, traveled with the Lewis and Clark expedition. She was most helpful because she recognized landmarks and acted as a translator. One of the current issues surrounding Sacajawea is the spelling of her name. People in North Dakota spell it Sakakawea. The name is a derivation of the Hidatsa Tsakakawias which means "bird woman." Sacagawea is the official spelling by the United States Geographical Board and the pronunciation means "boat launcher." Sacajawea is the spelling used in the Lewis & Clark journals and is the pronunciation adopted by many western states. OLD DINER... Driscoll, North Dakota is a small community about 32 miles east of Bismarck The sign at the edge of town reads: 'Home to Hall of Famer Era Bell Thompson.' The sign itself is big, compared to Driscoll. There's a railroad crossing, a cafe, and Norm's Grocery & Meat Processing, which also serves as the town post office. Norm and his wife Jean have run the store since 1958. "Used to sell a lot," said Norm pushing a rather fatty side of beef across a ceiling track closer to a jigsaw. "Now people come in for a gallon of milk, their mail and that's about it." Norm makes his money from his meat cutting business. The butcher shop is in the back of the grocery, behind two long aisles of sparsely stocked shelves. Items are neatly arranged in sections. Cereal, bread, canned goods and the like; a separate area for cleaning products and gloves. The utilities and medicine section featured bottles of yellow Listerine, next to a plastic bottle of shampoo and several brands of mosquito repellant; Off and Cutter. At the end of the row was a single white and pink can of Hair Net. There were 23 DVD's on the end-cap including Nacho Libre, Crash, Casino Royale, and Superman. Boxes of Anacin and Aleve fronted a pegboard that held a pack of dark shoelaces, a plastic rain hood. Feminine products, like a Goody hairnet and Cannonette panty hose, one size fits all, made of miracle stretch material, look like original store stock from the 1950s. A well worn hardwood floor runs through the store. The post office is located in the front. The door to the mailroom was open, as was the safe. "You missed our big celebration," said Jean who had a hacksaw and was trimming Norm's side of beef. "We have a huge July 4th celebration. Got more than 200 people this year," she said rolling her eyes at the crowd and the day of chaos in little Driscoll. Next door to the grocery was the Driscoll Cafe; equally as dated and precious. It was as if time had come to a stop. Glass canisters of homemade cookies lined the back counter. Pushed up against the stainless steel canister lids were cinnamon rolls, covered with vanilla icing and plastic wrap. I asked the waitress who was in her mid-50s about the sign at the entrance to the town with their hall of famer.

"Oh, Era Bell was a colored woman from here who went on to become the editor of Ebony magazine or something," she said. Thompson was an author, who was asked to write an article for Negro Digest, the forerunner of Ebony magazine. Over the years Thompson became managing editor of Ebony and in 1964 was given the title of International editor. In 1976, North Dakota Governor Arthur Link presented Thompson with the Roughrider Award for her outstanding contribution of time and talent benefiting the state and nation.

Donation from helpful trucker

biketard — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 21:43:30 GMT

MEET DEAN...

Forced to jump on the Interstate today to head east from Bismarck, N.D. to Medina to Jamestown and Valley City. Bikes are allowed on the Interstate in North Dakota since most of the roads are gravel and many are currently covered because of flooding.

Pulling into a rest stop off I-94 outside Steele, N.D. and a trucker named Dean stepped into my path.

He was taking a pull off his straw sunk deep into a 40 ounce cup of soda. "Listen here girlie May," is how he addressed me.

"I really admire your biking and all; matter of fact I was in the 1980 Olympics bicycling with Eric Heiden."

I raised my eyebrows; I was familiar with Heiden but had a difficult time picturing Dean as athletic.

Let's just say he really let himself go in the last 29 years. I think the correct medical term is, flabbier than shit.

Anyway, he said he had something for me in his rig. He started to mosey toward an 18 wheeler at the side of the rest stop.

Dean was originally from Florida. "I like riding the recumbent bikes now," he said holding his back indicting he wasn't as limber as he used to be.

Climbing up into his cab, Dean came down with a light. "It's a red flashing light for the back of you bike; you'll need this if you're riding on the Interstate."

I didn't quite catch a good glimpse of the light as Dean took it to the side of his cab to put in new batteries.

Although conversation was drowned out by traffic I managed to catch that Dean was hauling wind towers from Bismarck to Fargo. He said the flashing light was used on the towers.

After about 10 minutes Dean came out with my new blinking tail light.

You know those signs on semi's that say WIDE LOAD; suffice it to say the generous blinking light would catch your attention and the folks on the space shuttle.

"We'll just wrap it around one of your bungee cords here and you'll be all set."

I believe the battery replacement operation took so long because there was an arsenal needed for the unit.

"You feel the switch on the back here? Push once and it stays solid, twice and it flashes fast, but you want the third setting because you get the most bat-tree life," said Dean who struck a bearded resemblance to Cooter combined with a genuine Forest Gump personality.

After we got it all in place, I looked over my rig. The rear hung a little low, like when your three aunts all rode in the back of your car.

Dean returned to conversation about himself and his recumbent bike.

"And if you get tired, well you're already sitting down you can just take a nap." And he proceeded to demonstrate his sleeping position, closed eyes and all.

He held the pose for quite a while and I grew concerned he had narcolepsy.

I thought even my sweet new flashing light, isn't going to stop a trucker who spontaneously sleeps at the wheel.

Dean then popped up and laughed. "I was just playin a joke on ya there," he grinned.

"I used to make money racing guys across town on my bike," said Dean pretending to pull up on his handlebars and jump a curb.

Then unannounced, Dean started to pull up his pant leg. "I tell ya, this is what I still carry around with me to this day."

Looking past his wool sock and work boot I stared hard trying to find a scar.

Dean showed me the back of his calf, like a woman trying to see if the seam in her pantyhose is straight.

I wondered what other people at the rest stop thought we were doing.

"Haven't lifted a weight in years, but still got um," said Dean proudly about his brick of a calf muscle.

I feigned a slight, dramatic swoon and mustered a rather convincing hubba hubba.

In love.... with Lewis & Clark

biketard — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 14:32:23 GMT

Bismarck, ND July 21, 2009

I have a t-shirt that reads: My boyfriend said I should be more affectionate.... so I got another boyfriend.

Well I met a guy. Actually two.

I think I'm in love with Lewis and Clark.

Stayed late Tuesday morning in Washburn, North Dakota so I could tour the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center.

Within the first five minutes Meriwether Lewis and William Clark rocked my world.

The pair were adventurers and in 1804, under orders from President Thomas Jefferson, set out to explore the Northwest.

The expedition, known as Corps of Discovery, lugged a keelboat to the head waters of the Missouri River.

As romantic and Huck Finn as this sounds, it was grueling work. The Corps tried to average 20 miles a day but at times the water was turbulent and other times they literally had to get in the water and drag the boat with ropes.

Think of the incredible stamina. Think of the determination. Think of the calories burned.

Too bad these guys couldn't round the bend and treat themselves to a peanut buster parfait with a dilly bar chaser.

Which leads me to believe the next reality show should be people reenacting the Lewis and Clark tour. There would be endless adventure, wacky mishap and obvious weight loss.

One of the commercial sponsors could be Deet.

Simon Cowell, who is ready to jump ship on American Idol anyway, could lead two teams. One headed by Jon Gosselin and the other by his lovely, demanding, ex-wife Kate.

Lord knows they're going to be looking for something to do next season and Jon needs somewhere to go on his honeymoon.

President Obama could make a guest appearance on one of his family weekends.

Mekalekahi and Heidi ho would love to spend the night aboard the keelboats, then they'd have something to tell their class when private school resumes in September.

MEET ED...

I met Ed from Champagne, Illinois while bicycling the scenic route between Washburn and Bismarck, North Dakota.

We had an immediate connection as we were both riding our high school bikes. Although my bike, also dated to the year Ed was born.

Ed was on a three month tour; after a stint in the Navy reserves and school he decided to take a break.

Plus, he couldn't find a job which totally upset his parents.

This was Ed's first tour. He was dressed in a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, orange and white University of Illinois basketball shorts, and high top tennis shoes.

He looked like he was ready for a pickup game of one-on-one.

Gray Duct tape held a rear view mirror to the side of his black helmet. I'm sure the rest of the roll was somewhere in his gear which looked cumbersome, and I'm being nice.

Ed was extremely pleasant and optimistic and readily admitted he over packed. "I thought I'd be bored so I brought six books," he said quickly acknowledging he jettisoned the reading within the first week.

At 6-foot-4 and 200 pounds Ed had good reason for a five person tent and two pillows. Those were buried under his 5-pound U lock, clothes, rain gear, food and a full spare rear wheel.

"I keep breaking spokes," said Ed who didn't want to be burdened with fixing at the side of the road when he could simply slip on a spare.

We lurched and careened along, side-by-side for about 23 miles. We flew down the hills, Ed a distance behind me as he dragged his dinosaur tail of supplies.

"I really hate hills," said Ed who coasted a couple yards up the following incline and then resorted to walking.

We chatted it up. Ed talked about school, camping, showering at community pools for a dollar, and how he was going to get a king-size slurpie when he got to Bismarck.

He felt on this tour, like he was livin' the high life.

Coasting through North Dakota

biketard — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 18:00:39 GMT

July 19, 2009 KILLDEER, ND - Three states down, three more to go. I've been on the road since June 25 (started in Seattle, WA) and have collected over 1,420 miles. The distance per day is primarily determined by how far each larger city is from the next. Large city is defined as one with a grocery store, public library, and church; the last two qualifications mean access to Internet and a normally a safe place to stay. Actually Mother Nature has a lot to do with daily mileage as I'm not fond of bicycling in the rain and headwinds can make 50 miles seem like 100. July 16, 2009 CIRCLE, MT - 70 miles Jordan, Montana to Circle. Lots of up down and pretty steep hills. There are many references to the Lewis and Clark trail and Sakakawea Lake; it's Indian but I'm not sure what it means. There was some construction as crews were blacktopping a 140-yard segment. Stopped to chat with the traffic control guy. When I told him my concerns about snakes, he said the worst area was up about two miles, where the snakes would probably jump out at me. Stopped at the VFW in Circle to mingle and Charlie, 70, was the lonely guy who quickly bought me a beer and bent my ear. Charlie wore a crisp, white long sleeved shirt, cowboy boots and black hat and a voice box. He was drinking Crown Royal on the rocks. Married twice, Charlie had five boys and ran the annual rodeo in Richey, Montana about 30 miles east of Circle. Charlie wanted me to come home with him. He said it would be ok with his wife. He also wanted me to stay three days and attend his rodeo. "We'll make a big deal out of you if you stay," he said ordering me another drink. I hashed over the snake issue with Charlie. "Best thing you can do is get yourself a lariat." I told him it would take me forever to learn to lasso a rattlesnake. Charlie looked at me blankly and said in a gentle, no-nonsense, mechanical voice, "You don't rope the snake, you whap it with the lariat and then step on the head with the heel of your boot." I had to remember to close my mouth because it was hanging wide open, like a trout. "You can also string your lariat around your tent and that's supposed to keep snakes away," he said about the versatile rope. The best rope I had was attached to a tampon and I asked Charlie if putting those end-to-end would work. He had no response; just ordered us two more drinks. OFTEN ADOPTED... There have been a number of instances where people have welcomed me into their homes to shower and stay the night. Leaving Sandpoint, Idaho I ran into heavy storms about 20 miles out of town and raced to hideout in a wayside bathroom. My head was sticking out the bathroom door, monitoring the storm and gasping for a clean breath of air when Jackie and Stan pulled up. The pair were headed to Sandpoint for a day of shopping. They lived 70 miles southeast and said since I was going past their lake home, why didn't I just stop and stay the night. I normally call my brother to make him aware of my accommodations. "So let me get this straight," said my brother who wears a homemade shirt that reads: I like to go to Wal-Mart and judge people. "You agreed to stay and they were going to town for supplies. So they would be able to get fresh rope and sedatives," he said pretending to sneeze and say Ed Gein at the same time. "You forgot the duct tape," I reminded him. I had a good feeling about the couple; they were retired, genuinely nice and had a basset hound in the front seat. Bassett hounds, as we all know, are the ambassadors of peace. SIDNEY, MONTANA... Leaving Sidney this morning and hoping to cross into North Dakota before noon. Stopped at the M&M Cafe to grab a quick coffee and chat with the locals.

There were two tables full of ranchers hashing over the latest warm weather and wheat prices. Common themes were seed or farm impliment hats, whiskers, flannel shirts and suspenders. \

The fellas were dressed much the same. "Which way are you headed," asked one man with a well chewed toothpick in his mouth. I told them east, back to Wisconsin and the conference of unsolicited directions began. Both tables went head-to-head with their version of what was best, safest, most scenic. There was as much consensus as a teenage drug deal. JUST SHARING... There are many behind-the-scenes things that accompany this trip. Stopping RV's in the mountains when I've run out of water, acquiring the world's worst tan lines with the definition as sharp as a saddle shoe by my sock and my face looking like I'm wearing a permanent pair of pilot’s goggles. It’s very Amelia Earhart. Or how I balance my exercise with cookies and frosting. When bicycling through the plains the other day temps reached 92 degrees. In mile 82 the saddle and seams in my padded biking pants were tearing away at my tender lady parts. There was nothing for miles in the way of trees, barns, rest stops, or even a sign post and though I'm a shy violet I made the official decision to change shorts at the side of the road. After a quick surveillance for snakes I perched my bike and in very clumsy fashion, swapped shorts. I'm sure it would have been a sight for any passing motorist, seeing me there in the all-together. NEWSPAPERS... My favorite newspaper so far has been the Circle Banner which carried the slogan Today's news - next Thursday.

133 mile day

biketard — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 14:06:15 GMT

Jordan, MT - July 15, 2009

Tough day at the office. Pedaled 133 miles from Lewistown to Jordan.

Weather was sunny, mid-70s and with the day off Tuesday, I had extra energy.

I kicked up some antelope in a field, but other than that the ride was extremely desolate.

I started waving to passing motorists and farmers, just to have some personal interaction as sometimes I wouldn't see a car for 20 minutes.

Once, I waved to a train in the distance. He blew the whistle. I think I had an orgasm.

Although I started strong the last 20 miles was a struggle and I made it to town, riding on fumes. I was so tired I fantasized about falling onto a stretcher.

Exhaustion trumped hunger and threatened a shower. Doctors say, and I think the correct medical term is, I was ready to hurl.

Lewistown, MT - July 14, 2009

Day off Tuesday in Lewistown, Montana. Much needed rest from vicious headwinds that have totally robbed me of my Supergirl status.

My legs are dead and Mother Nature brewed up a big storm with driving rain and 28 mile per hour winds. Sandi and Dale Chamberlain adopted me giving me a safe, luxurious place to stay.

Lewistown is full of cowboy and outlaw history which included visits from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,

and Wild Bill Cody.

Toured the Judith Theatre on Main Street. Lisa Wright and her husband bought the theatre a couple years ago.

"It was just such an amazing building with original materials," said Wright who returned the 1914 structure to its original state.

When the theatre first opened it featured live vaudeville shows; Red Skelton and Slim Pickens signed their names on a back wall by the dressing room.

During renovation Wright found an autographed photo of Elvis and within the past few years when John Travolta stopped on a promotional tour, he signed an old Saturday Night Fever poster.

Wright also found, what she thought was an old heating duct. However, it turned out to be a shooting chamber for Wild Bill Cody's gun show when he performed at the Judith Theatre.

CENTER OF MONTANA...

Lewistown is the direct center of Montana and folks in town are proud of it.

Although one local said the center point is the bathroom sink in her house, the Yogo Inn off Main Street has an official marker by their swimming pool.

At the entrance of the hotel is a collection of items found while digging at the center point including an old compass, a commemorative silver coin from the World Fair, a 14 inch rock with the state of Montana etched in the side and an X to mark the center.

There was also a written testament, from surveyor E.E., framed and hanging above the cabinet of collectibles.

"This humble marker locates the center of Montana. With it I bury my compass and shall never survey again."

E.E. described himself as an avid amateur history buff-draftsman and surveyor. E.E. was aware, some people may doubt his coordinates.

"I bury all with the hope when they look for Montana's center they will dig out this point because by thunder this is where it is."

Signed E.E. 2-29-1912.

CREEK IN THE FLOOR...

The Montana Tavern at 202 Main St. in Lewistown is unique as there is a hole in the floor where you can see the spring creek running underneath the building. The rectangular hole is about 4-feet by 3-feet.

Sometimes you can see fish; once someone saw a beaver.

"The rebar grid is new," said the bartender about the bars across the hole. "We put it in about a year ago when somebody took a canoe down the creek and broke into the tavern after hours; climbed up through the hole and stole some beers and smokes."

TIDBITS ...

A small tavern, Cabin Creek Bar in Geyser, MT dated to 1913. Black and white photos showed cowboys standing on a wood plank sidewalk in front of the establishment. Inside, the bathrooms were still quaintly named POINTER and SITTER.

Sandi and Paul took me up into the mountains while on my day off in Lewistown. We visited a log cabin named The Last Resort. We were so high up and back in the woods, when we got out of the vehicle it smelled like Christmas.

Some famous people from Montana include Evel Knievel, David Lynch, Brent Musburger, Gary Cooper, Brooke Shields, Andie McDowell, Archie Bunker actor Carroll O'Conner went to the University of Montana, former NBC Nightly News anchor Tom Brokaw has a ranch in Montana and enjoys fly-fishing, Ted Turner has a nice corner property of 113,613 acres.. "He's our premier Mr. High Pockets," said Andy Sponseller from Ten Spoon winery.

Time capsules in Carousel for Missoula

biketard — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 04:51:19 GMT

Missoula, MO - July 8, 2009 Plains, Montana to Missoula, 77 miles Wednesday and staying at the Rattlesnake Hostel. It's a bicycle specific hostel about two miles outside downtown Missoula. Private room, clean bath, kitchen access and owners on site. $20 a night. I'll rest my legs for a true day off, my first in 11 days Missoula is a mini Madison. College town with University of Montana and lots of bicycles. Missoula is also home to the Adventure Cycling Association; headquarters for avid cyclists. Bicyclists stop to have their photograph taken and posted on the wall along side thousands of other bikers from across the country. Missoula Carousel... The carousel in Missoula is amazing. Hand-carved by community volunteers who took their cue from leader Chuck Kaparich. A local cabinet-maker Kaparich told the City Council, "If you give it a home, and promise no one will ever take it apart, I will build a Carousel for Missoula." Volunteers, who didn't know the first thing about carving lined up. Kaparich held Monday night carving sessions in his garage. Looking at the motley crew they seemed ill equipped in talent and skill set, yet they somehow managed a fabulous 38-horse carousel for Missoula. The ponies are made out basswood; each taking about 800 hours to complete. The pony consists of seven pieces head, neck, body, and four legs; eight pieces if you don't have real horsehair for the tail. The bodies of the ponies are hollow. "They were used as time capsules," said carousel executive director Theresa Cox. "In the old days kids waiting for the ride to begin would tuck their tickets down the crack by the pole," she said. When the horses were under repair and the bodies split open, tickets would fall out like confetti and the horse's travel history could be determined. There were once over 6,000 hand-carved carousels in the United States and now there are just 160. Cox has been with the Missoula Carousel for 17 years. She said there has been only one time when the carousel was closed because of construction next door. "I looked up and four adults were standing and admiring the carousel and begging me to ride." Cox told them the ride was not operating and they said they traveled 100 miles specifically for the carousel. "I ended up letting them ride and here the foursome were Linda Ronstadt's backup singers." Cox was treated to a private thank you as the group sang an old spiritual acapella. LOOKING FOR TED KACZYNSKI... Bicycled 84 miles Friday, July 10 from Missoula to Lincoln, birthplace of Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski. At a gas station outside Greenough, about 40 miles from Lincoln. a woman name Ann struck up a conversation about my bike and the tour. I’m brave. Everybody says so. Ann talked about her bike tour in Europe and how she and her friend Paul were on their way to Lincoln to fulfill his fantasy to do research on Kaczynski. We exchange business cards and within four hours we crossed paths in town. "We found a ton of information," said Paul with genuine enthusiasm and amazement at his success. In a small booth at the Ponderosa Restaurant in Lincoln, Ann and Paul spoke in hushed tones and shared their rich discoveries. The pair were like Maxwell Smart and Agent 99. In reality, Paul was an attorney from California and Ann an LPGA golf pro from Missoula. "We stopped at a yard sale and I asked them where their Unabomber t-shirts were. The girl said she didn't have any more but she could run in and print some if we wanted," said Paul who found extreme delight in his sleuthing.

"A lot of the stories that came out about Kaczynski said he was celibate but locals said he had a girlfriend and she had a whole barrel of his stuff," he whispered "that she ended up selling on eBay."

Within just a few hours of pulling into Lincoln Paul and Agent 99 visited the post office, local thrift store, public library, historic Lincoln Hotel (which was presumably haunted) and the famous yard sale. The pair were giddy with success. "We thought people would shun us when we started asking questions and here everybody wanted to talk about," said Paul like Kaczynski was the Michael Jackson of Lincoln. TIDBITS... The attendants running the Carousel for Missoula wore company shirts with interesting messages on the back. "People will read a shirt more then they'll read a sign on the wall," said Cox. One message read: Children left unattended will be given espresso and a free puppy! Ovando is a small town about 56 miles east of Missoula. Their town sign reads: Jewel of the Blackfoot Valley. POP: about 50 ELEV:4,100 DOGS: Over 100 Just before the Continental Divide is an historic marker for RECORD COLD SPOT. The sign reads: The coldest official temperature ever recorded in the continental United States occurred at a mining came near here. January 20, 1954 when the temperature dropped to 70 degrees below zero.

Milwaukee connection in Great Falls, MO

biketard — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 04:48:01 GMT

RAILROAD TIES… There is a fantastic tower gracing the skyline of Great Falls, Montana. The Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul Depot is a huge 135-foot tower that marks the skyline in Great Falls, Montana. The Railway was constructed between 1907 and 1909, the last transcontinental railroad to cross Montana. Its service to Great Falls during the homestead boom supported the city's establishment as a major urban center for central Montana. When the Milwaukee Road completed this passenger depot in January of 1915, railway officials hailed it as the finest of its kind between Spokane and Chicago. The terminal is the only building in Great Falls made of "flash" brick, which is burned and unevenly fired. The 135-foot tower became a Great Falls landmark, acting as a giant marker of the depot's location. The corporate logos 100 feet up on each side of the tower were the first of this type, designed to be used on any railway station in the United States. They are composed so small, high-grade tiles pointed with tinted mortar to create a seamless effect. Each sign measures 17 feet by 10 feet. The grand railroad depot compares favorably with the Milwaukee Road's passenger depots in Miles City (1909), Butte (1916-17) and Missoula (1910).

2 states down - 4 more to go

biketard — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 22:20:35 GMT

IDAHO TO MONTANA...

From Newport, WA to Sandpoint, Idaho; birthplace of former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin.

Following the Lake Pend Orielle for 30 miles I pull into Clark Fork and stop at Sweet Bicycles & Marbles. It's a gift shop specializing in bicycles and marbles.

Katie and her husband James had a relationship based on love and things that roll.

"I was 7-years-old when I got my first bike," said James who looked like a cross between Alfred E. Neuman and newly determined Minnesota Senator Al Franken.

His front teeth stuck out so far he could gnaw an ear of corn through a picket fence.

"A couple from Illinois were visiting my parents and they were amazed my sister and I didn't own bicycles. We came home from school one day and they had bought us two used bikes for $10," said James remembering his red Road Master one-speed with balloon tires and coaster breaks.

That was more than 75 bikes ago.

James now has a collection of bikes. He once paid $50 for an 1895 Pierce Arrow at a yard sale; wooden fenders, shaft drive, no chain.

"Fully operational and clean, that bike would go for $1,000 today," said James clasping his hands behind his head; his belly falling out the bottom of his t-shirt like a hairy watermelon.

If it sounds gross, it was.

About 20 miles down the road, I stopped in Noxon. A sigh of a town with a bakery run by Mennonites.

Four cars were parked out front and another pulled in with me.

The shop was folksy; every customer crowded in front of the big glass case studying fresh cuts of meat, an array of homemade breads and individually wrapped cookies the size of a coffee can lid.

A small white sign propped on top of the counter read; slice of homemade toast and jelly $1. It was a perfect order.

As I waited in line to pay the large woman in front of me asked some generic bicycling questions. "Are you by yourself," she said with concern.

I told her I was and she droned about how sad it was I had no friends.

I walked outside but failed to lose the woman, who reminded me of Shelly Winters and would have looked like a muffin top on a bike. "Those tires look too small; you'll never make it on those tires,” she moaned.

The woman was like the Eeyore of the rest stop. I liked her not at all.

"Hope you’re going up to Libby. It won’t be a trip unless you see Libby and then swing around to Glacier National Park. Are you going to Glacier," she asked acting as if I had an engine.

I caught the eye of her husband; he looked ruined.

I felt I should get a medal, just for shear effort today.

TIDBITS...

Farmers in Washington seemed to be desperately watering their fields. Allen, 60, wearing a pink, GAP, button-down long-sleeve shirt inherited his grandfather's farm. He had 400 head of cattle but was critical of the area. "If God had meant us to grow crops in Washington, he would have put the rocks more than 60 feet apart."

Various local newspapers from across Washington, Idaho, and Montana include the Seattle Press, Bonner County Daily Bee, Clark Fork Valley Press, Lake County Leader and the Missoulian.

Local grocery stores from Washington, Idaho and Montana include; Safeway, Red Apple, Mitchell's Harvest Foods, McGowans, the Butchers Nook and Clark Fork Country Market.

Some crazy road signs I've encountered lately include:

- WATCH FOR BIGHORN SHEEP NEXT 12 MILES

- RANGE AREA WATCH OUT FOR LIVESTOCK

While in the Cascade Mountains there were two series of large, footprints crossing the road. It looked like Bigfoot stepped in a bucket of yellow highway road paint and walked across the highway. It took him five steps.

Out of Washington into Idaho

biketard — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 17:34:43 GMT

Pateros, WA - Making my way from Winthrop to the Coulee Dam.

Hitting the road around 5 a.m. in order to beat the heat and the headwinds; temperatures this week are expected to be in the 90s..

Took a break at the Rest Awhile cafe along Highway 153, just outside Pateros. Homemade desserts featured peach scones and strawberry rhubarb pie. Jackie swore to using oil in her pie crusts. "The dough is easier to work with and the pie crust is flakier," she said pushing her glasses atop her forehead.

Jackie,48, held the girth of a good baker. A floral apron hung from the back of her neck and thin, white bra straps creeped out the end of her sleeveless, white shirt.

"Been baking since I was 17," she said. "Learned how from a woman in Oklahoma who was meaner than a two-headed snake."

Up the road the senior center in Bridgeport took me in for the afternoon. The old ladies found me some laundry soap. My paniers smelled like something was suffering in there.

My plan to bike in two shifts is less than desirable. My feet ache by the time I roll into Grand Coulee at 8 p.m. After 97 miles I need to stretch but if I touch my toes I think I'll fart.

Father Bob Himes lets me stay at St. Henry Church in Grand Coulee.

At 10 p.m. I pedal down the street to see the laser light show. It's nightly entertainment where the city opens the dam and the water serves as the backdrop for a 30 minute light show.

DAY OFF...

Temps are supposed to reach 98 today. It's July 3 and I get a late start but make it a short 42 mile day to Davenport where Fr. Pat Mac Mahon at Immaculate Conception takes me in.

"You can just go in the church hall, the door's open," said Fr. Mac who is very Irish.

"One question though," he said before closing the door. "Why in the world the bike and West Bend?" I tell him I'm calling it vacation.

He waves me off in mock disgust, as if just looking at me makes him tired.

COINCIDENCE...

Many people ask how I can be on the road alone. It's hard to explain, that I'm not.

Today, after leaving Grand Coulee I stopped for breakfast at a little town cafe and sat with Joe and his dad O.J. "I got the name long before he did," said the 83-year-old referencing O.J. Simpson. The pair adopted me and gave me sound mapping advice.

After they left my waitress Bonnie asked for some details about my tour and then bought my breakfast, saying she was inspired by my effort.

Within five miles of leaving the diner, an RV past me and the passenger waived. They slowed to a stop and here it was Deb and Terry from Diablo. "Want some water? We've been keeping an eye out for you," said Terry.

Just think of the timing of that meeting; the last I saw them was two days and more than 170 miles ago and now here we were both headed east on Highway 2 in Washington.

July 4, Saturday

Davenport, WA - After 44 miles Friday from Grand Coulee to Davenport and a welcome stay at Immaculate Conception church, I leave at 5:30 a.m. to make it 85 miles to Newport and possibly 115 mi. to Sandpoint, Idaho.

The first 60 miles were good. Nice shoulder on the road and plenty of generous directions as I skirt the city and find my way north on Highway 2.

Just outside Spokane, about 20 miles near Elk the traffic picks up to risky levels. The shoulder of the road is still good however the 4th of July nuts are out.

Three teens are loading cases of beer into the front seat of their car. A man in his 40s is bragging to his kids how 'no other dad let's their kid ride his Harley.'

It's a scary display of reality TV and humanity.

A motorcycle shop near Diamond Lake is a good distraction. I'm in the mood for a break... and an engine.

Jake and Hun run the shop. He's busy getting in her way; she's focused on searching the web for real estate.

"You're welcome to stay the night," said Jake handing me a glass of ice water. It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon and he's already celebrating the fourth; his hand is wrapped around a small can coozie that looks like a Jimmy Buffet shirt.

A man resembling Jerry Garcia walks through the door pushing it open with his stomach. He admires the can coozie and says he has a blowup mattress at his place next door if I want to stay.

Inviting, in a Sanford & Son sort of way, but I down my water and opt to push along.

Before I go, Craig who is covered in sawdust but seems the most normal of the bunch, offers me homemade lemonade. He fills up a water bottle and brings me an icy mug chaser with a perfectly round slice of lemon floating on top.

I reach Newport and am in desperate need of some motel therapy.

The Newport City Inn just had a cancellation and owner Nina Garroute gives me a 10% discount for paying cash.

A room for $46 on the fourth of July is truly lucky.

LETTERS ON THE ROAD..

Some interesting notes of encouragement I've received while on tour.

Hi Judy, Just read your update & just wanted to cheer you on! Didn’t know about this trip – sure sounds like a wonderful adventure already! Here’s rooting for you & always in awe…..Sue Bausch

"Hi. I so look forward to your stories. I just saw the movie People Across the Lake where they chopped up all these people and threw them in the water. Be safe." Jayne M.

"Judes, Be sure to stay well hydrated. Gatorade is good, you need the electrolytes. Another thing, no bartering with the kids over the price of Kool-Aid. Just give them their nickel, honey." Julie L

Climbing Cascade Mountains

biketard — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 00:50:14 GMT

Tuesday, June 28, 09

SEDRO-WOOLLEY, WA - Heading into North Cascades National Park.

My biggest concern, aside from the 5,000-foot climb, is bears.

Locals say they would LOVE to see a bear but they admit my biggest predator will be mosquitoes.

I'm still bear wary.

I manage 66 miles from Sedro-Woolley to the Diablo campsite. It's 6:30 p.m. Monday night and the temps have dropped dramatically from the 80s into the 40s.

Terry and Deb from Arizona let me camp next to their RV. They have a golden retriever named Meadow. She wears a red bandana, cowbell and pilot goggles and sits with a sense of ownership in the back of Terry's yellow and purple 1957 VW dune buggy.

I take Meadow under my wing. We play tug of war with a stick. Deb loves that I'm giving Meadow loads of attention

My coy strategy worked; my true intention is Meadow will be my bear warning device.

I'm crushed when they take her inside for the night.

My dreams are of bears. Every acorn or pinecone that bounces off my tent sounds like a crafty bear. I fear I'm stuck in a Farside cartoon and the bears were actually Terry, Deb and Meadow in disguise.

I make a dozen trips to the trash bin across the campground, throwing away grape stems and water bottles; anything with a hint of bear temptation.

I sleep with my cell phone, AKA the bear emergency phone. It's a bad plan, there's no reception at the campsite. More doom, I've left my pepper spray on my bike.

I wake up Wednesday with a pounding headache; it's a combination of dehydration and fending off dreams of bear attacks.

Guess I’d better pull up my big girl panties and head out to tackle the 65 miles to Winthrop. Rainy Pass is a climb to 4,585 feet and Washington Pass is 5,477.

OVER THE TOP...

It took more than three hours but I managed the punishing climb over the Cascade Mountains. The uphill was grueling; with average speeds about four miles an hour.

Met a nice man bicycling over Rainier and Washington Pass. Tyler, 25, had a couple days before beginning his career as a firefighter and thought he'd take a bike ride. "I wanna see a bear," he said with dopey enthusiasm.

Cresting Washington Pass it's 15 miles of downhill.

I don't have to pedal for seven miles. My top-end speed is 41 miles an hour. My eyes water from the rapid descent.

I drift into Winthrop and treat myself to a Coke and packet of peanut M&M's. I savor each one, pretending their tranquilizers.

Challenging climb over Washington Pass

biketard — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 00:07:34 GMT

Tuesday, June 28, 09

SEDRO-WOOLLEY, WA - Heading into the North Cascades National Park.

First day is supposed to be relatively easy bicycling with a climb of about 1,800 feet into Diablo.

My biggest fear, aside from the challenge of the climb is bears.

Locals say they'd LOVE to see a bear. "Your biggest predator will be mosquitoes," said Bob Freeman from the Seattle bike shop.

But I'm still bear wary.

How come every totem pole has a bear face? Every wooden chair and wall decoration at the small town shops is of a bear.

There are bear warning posters and bear t-shirts.

I manage 66 miles and pull into Diablo by 6:30 p.m. Monday night. The temps have dropped dramatically into the 40s.

Terry and Deb from Arizona let me camp next to their site. They have a dog, a golden retriever named Meadow. She wears a red bandanna, pilot goggles and a cow bell.

I pet her and play tug of war with a stick. Deb loves that I'm giving Meadow all this attention but my true intention is she'll protect me from bears.

I'm crushed when they take her inside their camper for the night.

My dreams are of bears. Every acorn or pine cone that drops and bounces off my tent sounds like a bear.

I make a dozen trips to the trash bin across the campground, throwing away grape stems and water bottles, napkins... anything with a hint of bear temptation.

I scold myself when I find crumbs from previous trips in my tent.

I sleep with my cell phone, dubbed the bear emergency phone. It's a bad plan, we get 'no reception' at the campsite and more doom, I've left my pepper spray in a pack on my bike.

I wake up Wednesday with a pounding headache from fending off all my dreams of bear attack and probably dehydration.

Guess I' d better pull up my big girl panties and head out to tackle the 65 miles to Winthrop. Rainy Pass is a climb to 4,585 feet and Washington Pass is 5,477.

OVER THE TOP...

It took more than three hours but I managed the punishing climb. The uphill was grueling; average speed was about four miles an hour.

After cresting Washington Pass it's 15 miles of downhill.

I don't have to pedal at all for seven miles. My top end speed is 41 miles an hour. It's so fast my eyes water from the speed of the descent.

I drift into Winthrop and treat myself to a Coke and packet of peanut M&M's. I savor each one, pretending their tranquilizers.

Shifting gears: marathon to bike tour

biketard — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 14:57:16 GMT

Marathon June 28, 09

KENMORE, WA - The marathon Saturday was hard; everybody said so.

The winner was from Kenya, Peter Omae. He finished in 2 hours 18 minutes and 17 seconds; basically he was done with the run before I even reached the halfway point.

It's such a reality check - superhuman vs. slow, white, 40-something.

The female winner was Michele Suszek, runner by day (2:38:37) and professional go-go dancer in Westminster, Colorado by night. Really, that was the article in the Seattle Times.

After the Rock 'n' Roll marathon I pedaled 30 miles north along the Burke-Gilman Trail trying to make my way to a smaller town so I can start my bicycle tour back to Wisconsin.

The beautiful Burke-Gilman Trail ran along Lake Washington and through the University of Washington campus.

By 4 p.m. I arrived in the comfortable community of Kenmore. A couple of fire fighters went out of their way to help find me a place to stay.

Lt. Ken Googled the Kenmore Inn Motel and handed me a printout. "I don't know that you have much choice," he said noting Kenmore's limited selection.

The top entry read, 'STAY AWAY' in capital letters accentuated by a dozen exclamation points.

I thought I'd give it a try.

Kenmore, a community of about 12,000, runs along Highway 522. There’s a Safeway grocery store, Jay’s Café and next door to the Kenmore Inn Motel was the Wagon Wheel Inn.

The owner let me look at a room. For $50 a night I'd have a bed, bathroom, kitchen and loud music from next door.

It was nice - a loosely used term.

There was a car repair garage next to the Wagon Wheel. It was literally within three steps of my front door and apparently part of the hotel business.

I explored my options next door. For $55 a night the Kenmore Inn was the Ritz; a slightly cleaner atmosphere and a general inkling no mice would run across the top of your sheets while you slept.

SUNDAY MOVING NORTH...

After a quick breakfast at Jay's Cafe I've decided to continue north to the LaConner / Mt. Vernon area.

During Saturday's marathon there were quite a few shoutouts for 'Wisconsin.'

People recognized my shirt from the Bellin Run in Green Bay. One man who introduced himself was from DePere, another woman Waupaca.

I was unaware there was a small green and yellow letter G on the back of the shirt. In mile 25 a woman passing me said 'Green Bay Packers.'

I quipped, "Wisconsin, we'll always remember you Brent." The woman turned and said "Judy, is that you?"

More than 2,000 miles from home and I'm cherry-picked out of a field of 25,000 runners by a college friend I hadn't seen in 25 years.

Crazy fate.

She's from La Conner, a small tourist town about 72 miles from Seattle. That would be my destination Sunday as I make my way to Hwy 20 and the northern tier, where I will begin my trek east to Wisconsin.

TIDBITS...

- The new wave in marathon racing is the personal mileage chip has been replaced with a disposable tag.

- The medal awarded for completing the Seattle marathon is about the size of a baby’s head and weighs much the same. I'm mailing it home, it’s the last thing I need to carry over the mountains.

- I've made a grave packing error and attached the wrong bicycle rack to the back of my bike. I went to a bike store today and for $34 bought a lighter model. It really is all about the weight and I think I'm now carrying a little less than 100 pounds of gear.

Jumping from the marathon to the 2000 mi bike tour

biketard — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 14:55:57 GMT