Boy, South Dakota can be rough. Since leaving Roscoe, I have had all sorts of weather, from cold enough to require a scarf and gloves to hot enough to require no shirt. Most of the time, however, has been filled with headwinds and uphills. Every time I try to push 100 miles in a day, I’m only able to do about 60, no matter how hard I push.

From Roscoe, I made it just past the town of Mobridge and camped at a campground just across the Missouri River. Since it is just out of camping season, there was no one there to make me pay. Unfortunately, that also meant the bathrooms were locked and the water fountains and spigots were shut off. I was pretty much out of water. Luckily, the RV station, with the drain and water pump, was still active, so I was able to find potable water there. I didn’t find this source, though, until about an hour after I burned my finger on my pot when I was cooking some rice. So I had no cool water to put on the burn, and while I usually carry Aloe, I sent that in a package to my aunt in Denver from Blue Cloud Abbey. I was trying to lighten my load so I could carry more food, send some things I figured I wouldn’t need for the next month or so, like sunscreen and Aloe. Bad move. The burn isn’t too bad, but it hurt later, and it’s a little blistered now, three days later.

That night I also had a little critter friend to deal with. Just as I was about to retire to my hammock, I saw a raccoon creeping around in the dark. He was coming my way. I figured earlier that I would have an encounter like this, so I had found a big rock that I could use to scare one away. He wasn’t close enough yet, and I didn’t really want him to, so I just gathered a handful of gravel and threw it his way. He scurried off to some bushes about 200 yards away. Well, I knew that wasn’t the last I would see of him. I waited around for a few mintues, and sure enough, he started scurrying my way again. I wanted to wait until he got close enough for me to throw the big rock at him, scare him real good, but he stopped about 100 yards away. He stood there, watching me for about a minute. I decided to take action, so I started creeping toward him, handful of gravel at the ready. I got to within about 50 yards before he took off again. I threw the rocks anyway. I waited a few more minutes, but I was really tired and wanted to go to sleep, not wait around for a damn coon to keep coming back around. So I set up a trap. I had put my tarp over the bike to keep moisture off, since I was right by a big river. With the panniers on the side and my water bag and food bag on top of the rear rack, I had a slope to the tarp draping over the back. On top of one of the panniers I set my large rock, setting it up such that it was only barely secure. Any movement of the tarp in any direction would send the large rock crashing down on to the bench of the picnic table. I figured that would come down with enough of a bang to really scare the critter off for good, if it didn’t land on him and do more damage. Well, I never heard anything through the night, but when I woke up, the rock was on the ground and there were coon prints in the dirt around the picnic table. None of my food had been disturbed. Sweet.

The next morning I got a decent start, but I took a detour four miles off the highway to visit Sitting Bull’s grave. It was a really nice spot, up on some rolling hills, hundreds of feet above the Missouri River, looking down on the river, Mobridge across, and plains as far as the eye could see. Not another soul ever came while I was there, so I enjoyed a peaceful breakfast. Getting back on the highway, I had the desire to put in 100 miles. I had the drive to really push myself. I didn’t plan, however, for some wicked headwind and one of the longest hills so far. Actually, the entire day was uphill. Every time I got to the top of a hill, well, usually I found I wasn’t actually at the top. The road would level off for a few dozen yards then continue on up. Either that, or there would be a tiny downhill or flat followed by more uphill. Even the tiny downhills and flats were not a break, however, as the wind ensured that I would be pedalling hard the whole way.

That night I found myself ending the day in a town called McIntosh, a tiny community along highway 12 on the Standing Rock Reservation. Everyone in town seemed friendly. I stopped at the diner/bar to get some dinner and hopefully find a place to stay. The local drunk started talking to me right away. Said he was getting crazy because of the full moon. He was a real joker and completely full of shit. ‘What do you mean my credit’s no good?!’ That was his phrase of choice it seemed. He would say it to all the locals when they came in, causing him to laugh hard. The waitress/bartender was trying to set me up with one of the local pastors, but he was at the high school, attending the coronation for homecoming, which was a bonfire, burning four big bales of hay. I’ve never seen that before. Well, before the coronation was over, a local by the name of Sonny said I could stay at his place. It was just him and his little brother. He seemed friendly enough, so I took him up on it. The place was a real bachelor pad, messy, lacking much in solid furniture. He and his brother both smoke cigarettes inside as well, so the place really smelled. I didn’t care, though. It was a place to sleep inside. I was amazed to find out how cheap it is to live in this little town. The house I was staying in, Sonny was renting to own. The price he will pay when all is said and done: $6500. That’s for a small, two-story, four bedroom, one bathroom house on a small lot with an extra lot behind it, just past a little alleyway. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, the place needed some work, but for only 6500 bucks, that seems like a steal to me. Hell, I could afford that if just tried a little. Not sure if I want to live in McIntosh, South Dakota, though. I didn’t sleep too well, woke up tired. As I was packing up and leaving this house, Sonny was already at work, his younger brother was getting ready to go to high school, I realized that these people didn’t know my name. There was never any introduction. I only knew Sonny’s name from other people addressing him. In fact, no one in the town knew my name. I found that interesting.

I left town feeling exhausted. Still, I rode on. I wasn’t trying for glory, not shooting for 100 miles. I would just make it where I made it. I was too tired then to push for high miles and the headwinds were steady over 10 miles per hour. Despite the winds, I kept a decent pace and made it to a town called Lemmon by two. There I was able to get on the internet and get some work done and check out what North Dakota had to offer in the near future. I had a good conversation with an older man at the ice cream shop where I got online. He had put up a cyclist 30 years ago and they were still in contact. I thought that was pretty incredible. He said I could stay at his place for the night, if I wanted. I was tempted, but I had only done about 40 miles and wanted to push on another 25 to Hettinger, North Dakota. He left and went home, but told me which house was his. As I left town, I was very tempted to turn back to the east and find his house, have a place to stay with a friendly old man, maybe some laundry. In the end, I decided to keep going. The winds had died down and the air had cooled, and I figured I could do the 25 miles in good time. I was right.

I spent last night at a city park, right on a lake. It was cool and a bit windy, but in my hammock I stayed nice and comfy. No coons, either. This morning I took my sweet time getting ready. I felt okay, but I just didn’t feel like rushing to get on the road, even though the wind had changed direction and would be at my back. It really paid off. I washed some clothes in the bathroom sink and charged some electronics. As I was waiting for my garments to dry and my devices to charge, a woman came to clean the bathrooms. I was a bit worried she would see that I hadn’t paid the six bucks for camping. When I went to the bathroom to unplug my electronics, she asked where I had come from and where I was going. Then we exchanged a few comments about the wind. That was it. I went back to my spot to stretch and continue packing. Just as I was about to pack up the last item and head out, she came over on her motor scooter and asked if I was leaving. She asked if I wanted her to make me a sandwich. I said I wouldn’t mind. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ And she was, and with not just a sandwich. She had two bags, one with three Gatorades and a can of Pepsi, the other with a sandwich, half a dozen snack items, and ten dollars. She rolled up on her moped, handed me the bags, wished me luck and safety, and rode off. No more conversation. I couldn’t believe it. I ate all the food, packed up the gatorade, left the pepsi for someone else to have, and headed out.

The winds have been in my favor for most of the day so far today. What a blessing. Also the terrain has been a bit more advantageous, mostly flats, some rolling hills. Currently I write from Bowman, North Dakota. It really is amazing what a difference the wind makes. On those days with tough headwinds, even when I was pushing my hardest, trying to do high miles, I was really only able to do about 15 miles in two hours. That’s pretty slow. The forty miles here to Bowman from Hettinger took me only two and a half hours! Of course the flat terrain helps, as does the fact that there is absolutely nothing to look at out here. You can see for twenty miles in each direction, and it’s nothing but dry grass and dirt. The sun is still really hot today, and I’m wishing I hadn’t sent my suntan lotion to Denver. My nose is getting burned. I suppose I could buy some more, but to be honest, I probably won’t. I only have a few more days to Great Falls. From here, it’s less than 500 miles, and I’m going to put in another 46 miles now, make it to Baker, Montana, if all goes well.