Northern Tier Day #39 New Salem, ND to Dickinson, ND
Northern Tier Day #39
June 28, 2019
New Salem, ND to Dickinson, ND 81 Miles
Ride Time 6:30
Tour Total 3105 Miles
Last night when I got back from The Field, I moved my tent and all of my things inside of a picnic pavilion at the city park. There was a 30% to 40% chance of rain in the early morning and I didn’t want to take any chances.
Early the next morning I began hearing rattle tat tat banging noises. The sun had just come up, and I figured it was raining. The pavilion had a tin roof and was surrounded by tin walls on three sides. Heavy rain and hail was slamming against the tin. I had to go to the bathroom so I ventured outside my tent. It was pouring down rain. Then the lightning and thunder began. I would’ve been completely soaked had I not slept under the shelter. I heard all these powerful strange noises, and I was afraid there a tornado was approaching. My tent was violently shaking in the wind, and it was difficult to go back to sleep. I didn’t climb out of my tent again until after 9am. Everything was wet including my tent and footprint. My clothes that I had hung to dry were wetter than they were last night. It was a slow soggy start, but it could have been so much worse. As I was packing I noticed a nest of western meadowlarks in the eve of the shelter. That explained the big piles of bird poop on the picnic table.
I was a hero at Tellmann’s Market this morning, having made it through the thunderstorm in a tent.
I was told that they needed the water and that storms can get a lot crazier around here. I got a chocolate muffin, a Starbucks Frappuccino, and an orange juice. The sun came out while I was eating my breakfast out on the curb. Yesterday I neglected to mention Sue the ginormous fiberglass Holstein cow sculpture on the hill outside of town, as well as the ‘NEW SALEM’ spelled out in white rocks.
The wind was insane today, and lucky for me it was blowing west. I would have hated to be fighting this. The skies were partly cloudy, and the sun was trying to poke through the gray puffy clouds. When I’m fighting the wind I get cold, but when it’s to my back I get hot. I had to pull over and remove my sweater and leg-warmers and lather up with sunscreen.
The terrain was spellbinding. I enjoyed the gentle rolling hills, interesting buttes, and land formations punctuated every once in a while by a structure or a tree. There were large gentle hills and mounds with the occasional large boulder. The wind was roaring against my back and I saw a large wind farm to the north.
I cycled five miles west of New Salem and the route led me to I-94 where I would be riding on an expressway. Fun times! I rode Interstate 80 last year in Wyoming on the TransAm and I’m an old pro. I pedaled down the on-ramp and discovered that I-94 had a very wide shoulder. The only problem was the large shoulder-wide rumble strips every 50 feet. I had heard about these, but east-bounder Jack assured me there was enough room to ride around them. I chose the 24” wide space against the grass. Because of the tailwind I was flying, and it was slightly terrifying. I passed mounds, mesa formations, ridges, and buttes. A freight train passed on the left.
The shoulder was much easier to navigate on the uphills because I was going slower, and there was more traffic on the expressway than I had expected. A semi-truck train with three trailers passed me. Multiple semi-truck trailers were common. I was definitely starting to see badland features with the buttes, grass mounds, and hills. It was beautiful here! The clouds disappeared by 11:30am.
I exited the Interstate after 12 miles, and headed south on State Highway 49. I rode straight into the wind for five miles. There was no ridable shoulder, and I had either the slant to the right of the rumble strip or out in the motorized traffic lane to the left of the white line. Soon I was back on Highway 139, aka Old State Route 10, and heading west. I got my tailwind back again.
My first stop was Glen Ullin, population 807. I stopped at Rattler Gas where I ordered an egg sandwich, a Starbucks Frappuccino, an orange juice, and powdered mini donuts. The total came to $11.11. Teresa, the friendly clerk, sat down with me while I ate my breakfast. Her husband was a beekeeper and he moved his hives from North Dakota to Texas and California in the winter. He returned from work every night with stingers in his jeans. No pesticides people! It’s bad for the bees. Theresa said that the weather this year was warmer than usual.
The wind was from the Southeast, and I would be riding Old Highway 10 all the way to Dickinson. There were two sets of freight train tracks to my right, and a small bird flew along with me for a mile. I crossed underneath and to the north of I-94. I stopped at the convenient store in Hebron for a Gatorade. Hebron is known as the brick city.
When I crossed the Stark county line, I was now in mountain time and gained an hour. It was overcast and windy. Riding south around Young Man’s Butte the wind was in my face. I saw a deer running across the road. It was the first dear I’d seen since Minnesota. Because there were no trees here, I could watch it run through the grass for over a mile.
I gained 350 feet of elevation today, as Dickinson was 2,411 feet above sea level. The wind shifted and began coming from the south. There was a large system north of Dickinson that was effecting the weather. I was riding the slant shoulder and scraped my left pedal. I’d better be careful with my game.
A long freight train passed me to the left as I was coming into Richardton, population of 529. The church steeples were almost as tall as the water tower. I stopped at the Richardson Thrifty White Pharmacy for a Gatorade. Later, I passed through Taylor, population 148. It had a bar and a post office, and I didn’t stop.
I rode by a really cool wind-driven carousel with a revolving bicycle on top with bikes and lawn tractors beneath. I stopped to take a photo and was way off to the side of the road. An asshole in a pick-up truck blared his horn at me and I shot him the finger. I hope he crashes into a telephone pole, the asshole.
I continued to see dinosaur threshers in fields to the side of the road. There were large buttes on the horizon to the west. The gravel here is sienna in color, and people‘s driveways and small gravel roads have a rusty color.
I started to encounter newly constructed houses seven miles out of Dickinson. A large radio tower was visible up ahead to the west. Billboards started appearing along I-94 to my left, indicating that I was getting close to Dickinson, population 18,000.
My grandfather on my mother’s side was born and raised in Dickinson. My first order of business was to find his parents, my great grandparents, and pay a visit. I crossed the interstate and entered the Dickinson sprawl. I passed car dealerships and farm equipment lots. I cut off the main highway and rode through sub-divisions. Before going to the Dickinson cemetery, I stopped by Ponderosa Liquors to grab a Modelo tall boy. They had an impressive taxidermied animal display.
My uncle had given me a plan of the cemetery but it took me awhile to get my bearings. I finally located my great grandparents graves, Herbert Anderson 1878-1964 and Annie G Anderson 1879-1951. Their grave markers were overgrown so I started my visit with maintenance. Afterwards I cracked open the Modelo Especial and sat there to spent some time.
My next stop was my great grandparent’s house. No one was at home so I left my card. I later heard back from the current owner, who was delighted to hear from me.
I pedaled to the Rodeway Inn where I had to wait an eternity for some Canadian motorcyclists to be checked in. Once in my room I set up my soggy tent, and aired out all my wet camping equipment. I took a shower and shaved before riding over to the laundromat. I edited photos and began this report while my clothing was spinning. Afterwards I rode over to Phat Fish Brewery for some Northern Route Scottish Ale and, ugh, yet more pizza.
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