Tuesday was a hard day for many because of the wind. Dad and I saw the sag wagon (actually a motorhome pulling a trailer) come into Bowbells fully loaded. Today was another hard day, and again the sag wagon was busy. The wind hadn't died down overnight, so we faced it right from the start as we headed south out of Crosby.

Within the first two miles I caught up with someone from California, a former firefighter with 32 years of service for San Jose. His wife, one of many CANDISC widows, was visiting her parents in Stanton, ND. A few minutes into the conversation, he paused, and then stated, "You're Joel's son, aren't you." (Huh??) "Ya, I met him yesterday!"

We rode for a few miles before he had to slow down because of the wind. I was in desperate need of a porta-potty (ummm, large quantities of food *in* require...) so kept on pushing until I popped over a hill and saw one that had just been set along the road. Their silhouettes were very distinct, as the organizer had fastened plastic geese to their roofs. Even without the geese it was obvious from a distance what they were, as there wasn't much along the road for them to compete with. I was quite relieved to see it.

The first official rest stop was twenty miles or so into the ride, near the intersection where we'd turn east for a while and get some relief from the wind. Many of the stops had signs for up to five miles in advance of the stop, and this one was no exception. Another common signage aspect was the inaccuracy of the remaining distance. :-) As one other cyclist put it, "I left that sign saying the stop was a quarter mile down the road about a mile ago!" My odometer *wasn't* acting up on me after all.

In that stretch, we were able to look down the valley and see the elevators of Alamo (69), one of the eight schools in the athletic district my home town is in. I found out at the rest stop, manned by a Wildrose Luther League group (another nearby small town in the district, population 193), that the two schools had merged, keeping the Wildrose Roses as the mascot. The Alamo Greenwaves (complete with the song "Anchors Away") are no more. (I'm not sure of the origin of that name, but watching the fields of immature wheat get tossed around by the wind, I had an idea or two.) Back to the stop, the highlight (for me, anyway) was getting to play with a couple of eight week old kittens. :-)

The next twenty or so miles were pretty easy, with mostly a cross wind. The first signs of the Willison Basin oil field began to appear. Oil was discovered in the Tioga area back in the 50's. The town's population swelled from about 460 in 1950 to over 2000 in 1960. The population has dropped to 1278, but it's still a thriving community. This stretch of the route reflected a mature industry--oil pumps working, rusted out pumps at dry wells, no active drilling rigs in sight, little heavy oil traffic on the highway. I was particularly grateful for the latter, having been in Alexander during the oil boom in the early '80's. US85 was full of big trucks and semis, not always bike-friendly traffic! Today's ride was pretty quiet (except for the persistent wind whistling past my ears).

And along this stretch, the smell of money was in the air. :-) Hydrogen sulfide (rotten egg smell) often accompanies the oil and is vented to the atmosphere. It's referred to as the "smell of money." But yesterday while complaining to neighbors about the coal smog, *they* replied that it was the "smell of money" and they didn't mind it a bit! They are from Hazen, ND, right in the heart of North Dakota's lignite strip mines. And I also heard complaints about passing a field that had just been blessed by a manure spreader....

The route headed south, and back into the wind at McGregor, for a final fourteen mile push. There's a dam just outside of town with a nice park, and that's where the second rest stop was located. I splurged and went with a couple of chocolate bars instead of the usual healthy stuff. They went down mighty easily this late in the week!

Not far beyond the dam I saw a Hawaiian shirt ahead of me--the two brothers from Colorado biking together this time. I caught up to them and we compared notes on how things were going. I asked about Ride the Rockies, and they said that in many respects, it's a comparable ride. Yes, there is a mountain pass every day, but the grades are pretty gentle, albeit lengthy. And the wind isn't as persistent either. Add that ride to my list of things to accomplish!

The last three miles or so into Tioga were generally downhill. (I don't recall many towns along the route ever being at the *top* of the world.) Two miles out, the baggage truck/trailer passed me. The last time I'd seen the baggage truck on the road was two years ago, when Peter, Todd, and I followed it into the Medora campground. It was being towed at the time. :-) The pickup pulling the trailer for this year looked pretty new! And, it wasn't unloaded by the time I got there. A dozen of us chipped in to haul bags (since the locals seemed to be conspicuously absent :-/ ), and I did discover that my bag was no where close to being the heaviest. I'd been wondering about that each morning as joints creaked when I hoisted it onto my shoulder.

I think baggage weight was somewhat dependent upon who would be carrying the bags around. There was one father-son duo where the father would select the campsite and the strapping young lad would haul their hefty bags over, only to discover that his father was off finding a *better* campsite!

The rest of the day? Much more reading, napping, hanging out. Supper was sponsored by the volunteer firemen--a summer picnic with barbequed chicken, potato(e) salad, coleslaw, and ice cream. It was by far the best meal of the week. Music was provided too by the Sons of Norway--their band with a couple of guitars, a keyboard, etc., and two accordians. Somewhere in there, the firemen honored one of their own, who happened to be sitting next to me--the fellow from San Jose. It turns out he was the fire chief, with 750 men under him. He hadn't brought *that* fact out when we rode together south out of Crosby!

When I got back to camp, there was excitement at the travelling bulletin board. Tomorrow's forecast was for a NORTHWEST WIND AT 25MPH! And we had 100 miles to go SOUTHEAST to Minot! Being a realist and a native, I politely smiled and said I'd believe it when I got to ride with it. :-)

One final note on the day: Around 8:45, a neighbor got back from a trip around town, pushing his bike. A pedal had frozen. While discussing the problem with friends and finding out that the CANDISC mechanic was back in Minot with his newborn (twins, I think), a local stopped by with his pickup, wanting to chat. He was told of the problem and was asked when the hardware store would open in the morning. The reply was, "Let's just throw your bike in the back of my pickup and go get [the owner] and see what she has, right now!" They were back in 45 minutes, with a new pedal installed.