My watch alarm rang out in the large community room in which myself and the MS riders were sleeping. I tried to be quiet as I packed things up, but soon everyone was rustling. I was ready to go at 7:30, and said goodbye to the crew, but knowing I would see them out on the road.
The objective was Medora. I had been told it was a touristy town, but that Theodore Roosevelt National Park was well worth a visit. If I could get there in a day I would have a layover day to check out the park.
Not three miles out of Hebron, I crossed the Morton/Stark County Line.
I only did 5 or 8 Miles more until the wind picked up. It was early today, which meant it would really be cranking by midday.
More history written by the victors...
Stopped for a break in Taylor, and saw the crew again, but pushed on wanting to make good time before afternoon.
I was feeling good all the way to Dickinson. Quite a few big hills coming into town. Town itself was nothing special. Felt like the same one-sided strip town like all the small ones I've seen, but with the ugly shell of a middle-sized industrial town; gas stations and auto mechanics and all sorts of other sprawl. Saw my first Trump sign of the trip. Below it was another sign that read "civilized lives matter." Seeing that gave me the same feeling I get when I pull a tupperware out of the fridge that's been forgotten and find it to be as fuzzy as a wool scarf inside. Just plain gross...
Headed out of Dickinson around noon, but the wind was getting worse. A strong nor'wester of 23 miles per hour, gusting up to 25 or more. I was riding in first gear almost the whole way, on flats and downhill, it didn't matter. Did another 20, but the last six into Belfield were truly brutal. I was totally fried.
Pulled up to a truck stop where I sat and tried to eat something, but instead just hung my head for a couple minutes. Eventually got up to look for water and ended up talking to a leathered-faced bum who spurted indecipherables broken only by the occasional "ya knowda mean...." decided I had had enough and rode into the town of Belfield off of the highway.
He was right about one thing however. I asked what was going on in Belfield, and he sulked, "nuthin."
I was feeling so beat up, I thought if I stayed in some AC for a while and got something to eat I might be able to make it to Medora. Found the only restaurant in town, JJ's chinese, and had a $5 Bowl of wonton soup, alone in the undecorated storefront. Found a covered Park, but with no restrooms or water, and grass as dry as a bone, I was feeling desperate. Finally gave in and lay down on a picnic table and passed out for an hour.
Woke up, realize there was no way I could go the next 17 to Medora, and started looking for camp. Set up a tent behind the swimming pool, and filled up my Dromedary from a spigot behind the pool house.
Belfield did have a laundromat, which I took advantage of, but I didn't have enough for a dry cycle so I brought the clothes back to my camp and hung them in the last rays off the sun.
Cooked up a small bowl of pasta and cheese and was feeling beat, but out of the silent gloom of the evening came the sound of bells. Starting at 9 anf going for more than 15 minutes, this belfield church had the most beautiful church bell arrangenent. Multiple songs of several modes. It brightened my day a little.
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