High Plains Shifter

Day 5
States: 11
Miles: 3497

I woke up early on Saturday, which was good.  I wanted to make some time.  The skies were clear and sunny, and things looked promising.  There was a McDonalds across the street from my hotel in Miles City, Montana, and a sausage and egg McMuffin sounded like just the right way to start the day.  Despite the early hour, the place was filled with locals, all of whom appeared to buy their clothing from the same designer -  Paul Bunyan.  Plaid shirt, wide leather belt, and Wranglers (four inches too small) are apparently the only thing available in this town.  Oh, and a baseball cap, displaying the seed company of choice.  I felt terribly out of place in my t-shirt and leather vest.  At least my Levi's (two inches too small) came close.  I tried to remain inconspicuous.  That would turn out to be impossible. 

I have gotten into the habit of grabbing my GPS and shoving it in my pocket when I leave the bike.  It is way too easy for curious bystanders to pop it off of its mount and make off with it.  I refer to the stern English woman who gives me directions as Beatrice, and her favorite word, evidently, is "recalculating."  Sometimes Beatrice has a way of making a scene at the worst possible times.  Due to the wind and bike noise, and the fact that I have my iPhone plugged into the aux jack on the "entertainment center," I max out Beatrice's volume so that I can hear her when I'm riding.  Although I try to remember to turn her off when I shut down the bike, there are times that I forget.  This morning was one of those times.  As I was waiting in line to order my Egg McMuffin, Beatrice announced to the entire McDonalds that she had lost satellite reception.  Suddenly I got a bird's eye view of every conceivable seed company in the world.  I grabbed her and tried to turn her off, but succeeded only in bringing up the volume and brightness adjustment screen.  "Lost satellite reception," she yelled again.  Now the employees behind the counter were giving me the evil eye.  Finally, with great relief I got her turned off.  I ordered my breakfast, slunk away, and sat down to eat and  run through my iPhone messages and emails.  Soon I decided that I needed to plan out the day's route.  For reasons I still can't figure out, Beatrice had refused to acknowledge Bismarck, N. D. and I was trying alternate cities.  Finally I settled on a reasonable destination.  To my horror Beatrice starting yelling to everyone again, "Turn left on I-94, turn left on I-94."  The heads  turned again.  None of the locals were amused with the greasy looking criminal and his stern English companion.  I balled up the rest of my breakfast, tossed it in the trash, and got the heck out of there.  I could feel every disapproving eye on me.  I'd had enough of Montana and they probably had had enough of me.

I set off toward my destination, somewhere not called Bismarck.  It was a beautiful morning and there were very few vehicles on the road.  I was making great time, and soon knocked off my ninth state, North Dakota.  Beatrice and I had made up.  About half way between Bismarck and Fargo I decided to stop and get some gas.  When I pulled into the station, there were at least 30 motorcycles, primarily Harleys, of course, parked all around, some of them fueling up, some just sitting around yakking.  I found and open pump, filled up and scraped the bugs off the windshield.  As I did that, there must have been 50 more bikers roll by the station, some of them stopping, some not.  Since there was a line at all of the pumps I pulled Herm over to the convenience store to get a drink.  I ended up next to a group of couples chatting, and as I got off, I asked them what I gotten into.  It appeared to be a poker run.  One guy, on a gleaming white Gold Wing confirmed that they were, in fact, on a poker run, rattling off some name that I didn't catch.  We were out in the middle of nowhere, and I just couldn't figure out where that many bikes had come from.  Maybe sensing the question by my expression, he proudly proclaimed that they were on a 120 mile ride.  I guess I was supposed to be impressed.  I had just done over 300 before lunch.  I didn't bother responding.  I did, however, take the opportunity to use the restroom.  Several other poker runners were lined up at the urinals.  As I took my spot and began relieving myself I suddenly was greeted with, you guessed it, "Lost satellite reception."  The guy next to me looked over at me and said, "Was that you?"  I sheepishly replied that indeed it was me.  Now you ladies have to understand something.  We guys are very different from you in the restroom.  Where you use it as a social occasion, we are not quite so inclined.  Talking in the restroom is not exactly considered a manly thing.  Nevertheless, he was undeterred.  He said, "I can never get that thing to work for me."  The ice broken, I responded with "She hasn't let me down yet."  HIs response:  "Maybe I should follow you." I smiled to myself picturing that.  Fortunately he climbed on his bike and took off, following someone else.

I had never been to North Dakota before.  In the west it had some interesting geographical formations, which soon gave way to endless farm fields.  I punched up Beatrice (literally - I was still unhappy with her behavior), seeing if it might be possible to get down toward Iowa through South Dakota in a more interesting manner.  She responded by suggesting a two-lane road that seemed to be a shortcut, and much more fun than the Interstate.  I turned in that direction and was greeted with a site that was completely unfamiliar to me - a farmer jamboree.  There must have been 100 pickup trucks pulled over to each side of the two-lane, and soon I came upon the farm implement dealer.  There was a large crowd gathered around a bunch of harvester blades (I'm guessing that's what they call them), looking them over.  It was the farmer version of a bike show.  I was fascinated with this, and stopped to take a picture. 

The 2012 Farm Implements Are In!

I started back up again, and was enjoying the two-lane road, which turned out to be quite picturesque.  It was dotted with small lakes and farm fields.  Then there were more small lakes, and they appeared to be displacing the farm fields.  It suddenly occurred to me that there were lakes where there were not supposed to be lakes.  Like over the road.  It was then that I recalled the problems that this area had been experiencing with flooding.  There were portions of the highway that had been dammed up with pumps trying to keep the water out.  The road was passable, but it was muddy in spots and down to single lanes in some spots.  The damage to the crops appears to be considerable.  I concluded that the farmers I had seen earlier were planning how to spend their insurance payouts.  One of the more amusing results of the flooding was a herd of cattle, some of whom decided that a dip in the lake was in order.  I had no idea cows like swimming. 

 

Rolling down the highway was quite an experience as I often was unable to distinguish water on the highway from the shimmer that one gets from a distance.  

In some cases, lakes surrounded the road, and the shimmer made it look like the highway just disappeared.  It did get my attention for sure.  Eventually I managed to get to the Interstate. 

I passed through South Dakota, and got into Iowa soon thereafter.  Three states in one day!  I was hoping to add a fourth, Nebraska.  Omaha was in my sites, and it was only 100 miles away, but as I rolled into Sioux City Iowa, the evidence of the flooding was surprising.  Entire roads adjacent to Interstate 29 were under many feet of water.  In some cases the only thing visible is the road signs and the tops of trees.  I had no idea that the destruction was still present.  It was too dark to take pictures.  I had been advised that I-29 might be closed due to the flooding, and decided that discretion was the better part of sinking.  Nebraska will have to wait until tomorrow. 

Unusual things seen on the road today: 

• A bank thermometer displaying a reading of -68 degrees
• A dude driving a tractor down the road - while talking on a cell phone
• Cows relaxing in an impromptu lake