Interior to White River: Chimera

It's super late, the time zone just changed to central, and I don't particularly want to do a phone update right now, but I need to. Today was... Today was a day I will remember.

The night was long, a dog barked all night until the roosters started crowing. The day started interestingly though. As I was packing up Able, a bike tourer from Witten, a few miles down the road, rode up on the second day of his week long tour to Yellowstone. Despite being from South Dakota he sounded like he belonged in the Fargo movie, and he eventually disclosed that he was from Northern Minnesota. Shortly after he left a couple from Minnesota drove up who I was chatting with the day before and gave me $20, saying they should have bought me dinner the previous night. Minnesota for the win!

Then the day turned. The road out of Interior was, pardon the road lingo, a "federal pound me in the ass road", a term coined on the 2003 tour referencing the movie Office Space and describing any road with frequent seams or cracks that make riding a bike feel like your first night in prison.

17 minutes and 4.5 miles in to the ride the road took it's toll; my bike broke. Bad. One of the welded on eyelets that hold on my rear rack broke off, rendering my bike effectively unridable.  I pulled over into a shaded farm driveway to work the problem.

This eyelet had broken off before and had been welded back on by CAT in 2007, apparently not permanently. Since I ride a steel bike, I knew I could save my tour if I could find a competent welder, and maybe only lose a day. I spent some time using a hose clamp to re-fasten the rack, hoping it would last long enough to locate said welder.

It did. I finished the work, sat dejectedly for awhile trying to get my mind right (negative emotions poison creative solutions), and was about to leave when Chuck and his grandson Preston showed up on an ATV. They owned the farm who's shade and I was borrowing. Chuck asked if I'd gotten it all fixed up and I explained my predicament. After some pointing and hmmming, Chuck said "Yup, I can weld that."

About two hours after my breakdown, my bike was welded and I was back on the road. There is a verse from a parody song I wrote to the tune of "Abilenes" that I believe is relevant:

We believe in bike-ma
You might find that it suits-ya
Do good things you'll ride in Shangri LA
When touring. Bike touring

Around mile 30 to got to Wanblee on the Pine River Reservation where we stayed in 2007. The town was much improved since then, and even had a park (we had stayed behind the store) I met lots of locals and had a good time. I had about 50 miles left to go.

Then the day turned. Again. It was hot. Windy. Very hilly. Pretty. Whatever, not so bad. Until the federal pound me in the ass road returned with a vengeance. 35 miles of giant cracks. Inches wide and deep (see pictures) every 15 to 20 feet. It was terrible, horrible, jarring. I could not find a smooth line. I could not space off. My mental game was shattered. I was deeply afraid my bike would break again. I had to break on the downhills to keep the impacts down. My wrists ached, my bike cried. I let air out of my tires but that barely helped. Hours were added to my travel time. It felt like an eternity and no relief was in site. Every hill I crested I prayed to see a change in pavement, but from my elevated vantage point I always just saw miles and miles of unrelenting pain.

I wanted to cry, and seriously considered hitchhiking for the good of my bike. I screamed in frustration, not with plucky belligerence like I do when overcoming, but with hopelessness and futility. I was  breaking and I knew it, and it was going to be those thousands of canyons that did it to me, relentlessly hammering into my psyche until the bike and I are a pile of broken parts amongst the roadside weeds.

I had plenty of time to think about this: in all my days of touring, including 13 times across Iowa and 2.5 times across the US, this was the worst road I could remember riding on.

When I got to White River it was 6pm and everything was closed but the bar and tiny store, which was fine for me because I wanted cooked food and beer. In front of the bar sat Ruben and Myrna Spotted Elk.

Then the day turned. Again again. They let me know about a park I could stay in for free with water. With that out of the way, I ordered food and sat outside with them and their grandkid and his friend, Tyson and Colby. We had great conversation and I learned a lot about what it is to be a homeless Lakota couple. They (especially the kids) learned a lot about bike touring. Their stories were riveting. I drank a few beers, fixed Colby's bike up for him, played some music, and really enjoyed their company. I will try to meet them for breakfast. It's nice to be able to repay some of the kindness that's been shown to me this trip.

Also, they assured my the federal pound me in the ass road was over. Apparently it's notorious for bikers in the area.

So much more to say... But this will have to do. Final judgment: today was a great day!