T+76: Dash Across North Dakota, Part 2

Mile 2427: MILACA, MN

The story continues….

The only place in the town of Hazelton to get any prepared food is at the Cenex gas station, so we make our way back there, order some food and are completely ignored by the men’s coffee klatch.  The same can’t be said for another long distance bicyclist who straggles in from the heat.  We smile as he goes through the drill with them: “Where you coming from?  Where are you going?  When did you start?  How many miles a day do you make?”  After their questions, we invite him to sit at our table. 

Jeff at the Honey Hub in Gackle, ND
 

This is Jeff Banascek, riding alone across the country.  He began at Anacortes, WA and is following the Northern Tier route, but will end his trip in Washington, DC.  He has never taken a long distance trip before and we are surprised that he has chosen such a big trip for his first effort.  He is on and off the phone, in conversation with his wife, who is serving as Mission Central, making reservations for him, providing guidance on the route, and tracking his every move with a special app that allows her to see where he is.  He was a longtime employee for US Cellular, who just shed hundreds of employees, including engineers like him.  So even though he has only been married a few years and has a young son of just 17 months, they have decided that his break in employment is the time for him to fulfill his lifelong dream.

We compare notes on the trip, commiserate about the monster passes in Washington, moan about the brutal heat and lack of trees, and generally enjoy each other’s company.   The only “accommodation” in Hazelton is camping the city park.   Jeff, feeling as overheated as we did when we first arrived, decides to stay there.  We decide to push on another 26 miles to Napoleon…the next place there is a motel.  However, we promise to reconnect in Gackle, where there a remarkable man named Justin has created a bicyclist’s respite.

Outside of Hazelton, we begin seeing a series of potholes, ponds, and lakes full of the most amazing variety of birds:  many different kinds of ducks, geese, terns, great blue herons, egrets, even pelicans.  There are two big lakes just outside of Napoleon.  We arrive at dusk, and the amount of life in the air as we pass between the lakes and their surrounding marshes is amazing.  There are dragonflies zipping about, frogs plopping in and out, fish rising in numerous concentric circles, swallows zooming around.  Terns are circling furiously in some sort of feeding frenzy.   It is really exciting for two weary travelers who have ridden 74 miles to that point.

The next day we rendezvous with Jeff at Gackle.  Jeff reports that he spent a miserable night at Hazelton, with a very local big rain and wind that kept him up most of the night.  We are all staying at Jason Miller’s Honey Hub: A Bicyclist’s Respite.  Even though Jason and his wife Ginny have left to return to California, they keep their basement and garage open for passing bicyclists.  It’s good thing, too, as there are no motels in town.  With the temperatures way up in the 90’s, a cool basement respite is just that.  We wash clothes and visit.  Jeff is awkward about sleeping in the same dorm bedroom as Wes and I, so sleeps on the couch. It doesn’t look too comfortable. 

We find out more about his life.  He is married to a Sesali, which is a variation of the name Sisalu, which the Indonesian government forced this ethnic Chinese family named Li (or Lee) to adopt.  They were Christians in that very Muslim country and after threats and violence, were able to seek asylum in the US.  The ended up moving to Iowa, where Sesali graduated from college and eventually met her husband through Match.com.  These two are pretty connected technologically.  Not only are they on the phone quite often, they are jointly plotting each move with various computer applications.

Jeff is following the Adventure Cycling maps less and less.  He tells of us a 100 mile bike trail in Minnesota that he is taking and that is included on his map, but not on ours.   I was more than a little bemused to find out that we had be sent 3 year old, out of date maps.  Jeff was going to bee-line to Fergus Falls, where he would have a rendezvous with wife and child.  He couldn’t see the point of going north only to go south.  In the meantime, we all still had to make it out of North Dakota. 

We were up and gone before Jeff was awake, but lost valuable cool time by stopping for breakfast at the slowest café we have seen.  One grizzled man was the entire staff.  The café was full of people: a very large men’s coffee klatch---and a table of women!  While we wait and wait to order, then to eat, we visit with the locals, who ask about the trip and are surprised to learn that a national bike path now goes through their town.  One says, “I wondered why we kept seeing so many people on bikes these days.  Useta be a right rare thing.”

About 30 miles outside of town, we stop in the shade of a rare tree to drink some water and eat an apple.  A youngish woman with blonde hair comes over to investigate.  She tells us that they are preparing her parents’ dairy farm for auction after 40 years of operation.  A corporation has purchased the land and will turn it into crop production.  She seemed quite emotional about the whole process and would have continued talking, we guess, but took her leave when none other than Jeff rides up.  He has caught up to us, despite leaving hours later, once again proving that we are the slowest bicyclists on the route.  He tells us that his wife has booked a room in the next town, and that if we want one, we better hurry because it there was only one room left.  I go to make the call….but, of course, no service.  We have to trust to our luck.

We get to the little town of Enderlin after a run of 77 miles and then have no luck.  No room at the Inn.  There is an old hotel we could try.  I call.  The owner is gone for his birthday; there are no rooms available.  When we see it later, we are relieved.  It is a wreck, with broken windows and torn curtains.   Camping is preferable.  Jeff offers us floor space in his room, but we know he has not had good rest for two nights and he has seldom gotten a room, so we demur.  We make a camp in the city park, next to the inevitable train tracks.  Jeff stops by our camp after dinner. We visit a bit, say our good byes and wonder if we will ever cross paths again.  Probably not. We put our tent on the gazebo, and it is a good thing we did because there was a big windstorm that knocked down branches and blew over garbage cans in the night. 

The next day we are faced with a choice.  It is the beginning of the Labor Day weekend.  Do we go to Fargo/Moorhead?  Or should we leave the route, and take the longer freeway ride to Wahpeton, ND, like Jeff is doing.  Wahpeton is south and much closer to the bike trail in Fergus Falls, MN.  We choose Fargo because we have some bike maintenance to do.  We ride down in the nearly flat valley of the Red River.  The air is heavy and it feels like we are riding in a lake bed, because we are.  Many of the businesses in the little towns are already closed for the holiday.  It is hard to find a place to buy food. 

We make it to Fargo, and get the new bike shorts I need.  My bike shorts are now much too big.  They are like wearing a big wet diaper and are rubbing me raw.  Wes has also finally consented to bike clips.  I told him one million times they would make it easier for him.  I think Jeff’s gentle mockery of riding without clips turned the tide. 

They also give instructions how to get to our motel in Moorhead, via linear bike path on the Red River.  When we get to the Roger Maris memorial park and begin taking the bike trail, we are both super excited.  We see a grey squirrel for the first time on this trip; we ride under oak trees and crunch their many acorns, the first hardwoods since we left!  We pass groups of young men who look Ethiopian and see women in hijab.  It feels like home! 

We miss our turn and end up going much too far on the trail, then getting lost as we try to find our way back.  By the time we get to the not-so Grand Inn, we have covered 66 miles that day.  The line of customers in the motel are all people of color, and the young Bengali behind the desk is none too efficient.  However, the room is great and cheap, and we so excited to have made it to Minnesota.  We have covered 215 miles in the past three days. We are tired and will need a day to rest.  But we have made it across the plains before September 1.

We had been so afraid of that passage across the Great Plains.  Even though we still have lots of farm land to go, we are now half-way across the nation.  We are proud of ourselves and relieved that we are done facing those miles and miles with no trees, no shade, and no water.  We try to remind ourselves that Minnesota is north of Iowa, but still, for the first time on this trip, we feel certain we can make it all the way.