Finally roused myself at a quarter to 9. Looks like it's going to be a slow morning. Had my granola and then walked with my laundry back to downtown Gackle. A wash was $1.25 at the laundromat (a room with five washers and dryers in the back of the barber's).
Walked back to the honey hub and hung my clothed up to dry in the hot mid-morning sun. Lounged around for much of the day and finished my book in the shade of the tree.
I started this one a while back but was never that into it. But since then I have explored more Eastern thought as well as more beat generation poetry and literature, so it was time for a revisit. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it, and how incredibly appropriate it was for the trip. All of Kerouac's stories about hitchhiking and bumming around Mexico and sleeping in dried-up river beds and along railroad tracks, tramping around the mountains of California and Washington, all the while following the Dharma were incredible, and so similar to the adventure I am currently on, even though it was more than 50 years ago. Some things about life on the road never change.
I left a note on the inside cover, and left it at the honey hub for the next passerby.
Next I gave Breezey a good tune-up and cleaning. It was about time for a new lube job. In the mid-afternoon I soaked quinoa in the sun, and made a big pot of it with garbanzo beans and zucchini and cheese.
I was in the middle of cooking when another cyclist pulled up. He was from Tennessee, and I could tell by his accent. He had come all the way from Kindred that day, which is certainly more than a hundred miles. He had biked from Tennessee down to New Orleans and then up the east coast and was now working his way across the country so that he could go down the west coast and then back to Tennessee. A hell of a trip. He was hoping to be home for October. It's guys like these that make me feel like mincemeat.
I waited until 6:30 before getting on the road. By then the sun would be gentler and the winds would have died down. It was only 40 miles I was aiming to go, but there was a chance I could be riding after dark, so I rigged up a light on the front of Breezey.
That should do. I brought some emergency water as well in case there was nowhere to fill up.
At last, I left a message in the guestbook and enjoyed the memorabilia of this rare cyclist hostel in Gackle, North Dakota.
The ride was perfect. Felt a little strange to be going this late in the day, but man was it worth it. Hardly any wind and gorgeous light. Loving these rolling Prairie Hills. It seems that around every corner is another vista that could be on a postcard at a drugstore with the words "Beautiful North Dakota" below it.
Without the winds it was immensely quiet. Even the sound of my tires rolling over the pavement was like a roar in all the silence.
With every passing minute it became more beautiful. The sun began to set behind an incoming bank of clouds, and the moon turned a grapefruit color with the last rays of the sun.
On the hill to the right on the last stretch to Napoleon, I saw three silhouettes staggered on hillcrest's of their own illuminated by the blood red sun set behind them. Immediately they reminded me of a painting of the crucifixes outside Jerusalem. But these were not crosses, they were only abandoned hay balers. It passed too quickly for me to capture.
Rolled into Napoleon just before dark, and set up camp in the city park. I wasn't so sold on North Dakota yesterday, but today change my mind. This state is beautiful.
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