I won't keep you in suspense any longer; today was my favorite day of the week. I left Bowbells with a slight sense of urgency, because the winds were forecast to start out from the northwest, which was the direction to Estevan, and then switch to the southwest, the direction from Estevan to Crosby. (Have you figured out one of the things very much on a cyclist's mind? Water, food, and potty stops are about the only other regular concerns. So far rain, sometimes a concern, wasn't in the picture.)

We lost several bikers at Flaxton, the first town. Rumor of good food is always taken seriously, and there was supposed to be a good breakfast spread. I made a quick porta-potty stop and kept heading for the Canadian border at Portal, about thirty miles into the ride. By this time the sun was well up and the winds had picked up out of the northwest as predicted.

This stretch had the first few miles of today's many miles of North Dakota road repairs. Poor sections of road are fixed by sending out a dump truck with a load of asphalt, and a road grader to spread it across the entire lane and shoulder for the length of the section. The asphalt is then packed down with the grader's tires, designed for traction with big lugs rather than for creating a smooth surface. For vehicles with suspensions, the ride over the newly repaired section is fairly smooth but noiser. Most of our bikes didn't have suspensions, and it took a toll on hands, arms, and butt. The worst stretch of the day was between Noonan and Crosby, where many stretches couldn't really be avoided because the other lane had been repaired too. Oncoming traffic generally wasn't a concern when crossing over to avoid the patchwork. :-)

At the Canadian port of entry, there was a drive-through window, but nobody seemed to be there. Just as I was about to cross a yellow line on the road, Art from Alex came running over, hands waving, shouting, "Don't cross that line!!" "Why not?" "Because when I did, someone came *running* out of the building yelling the same thing!" No one did, so I parked my bike on the *other* side, at which time I saw another cyclist pointing at me while she talked to the Canadian fellow who had just appeared. Great. But when I went over there, he was very polite, and with a very business-like attitude, ran through the required list of questions: Origin? (today's or last week's?) Length of time in Canada? (very much wind-dependent) ..... Mace or pepper spray? (too much weight) Finally I was cleared. I just wonder if his mood relaxed a bit with another 275+ cyclists coming through in the next couple of hours. :-) I didn't stick around to find out.

As the miles rolled on, the small grains and hay fields gave way to slightly more rugged land, exaggerated by old and new piles of overburden from strip mining coal. From a purely environmentalist's viewpoint, my first reaction was disgust; at least North Dakota has land reclamation laws which force the healing of the open wounds. But in cycling past several of the older piles, I noticed there is really a diversity in the ecosystems, many not present in the native prairie. The tops of the hills were grass-covered, whereas the valleys were considerably wetter. The variety in plants and wildlife really came out. The practices aren't all bad. (My spirits must have been pretty high to come up with *that* conclusion!)

Near Estevan I passed a fellow in sandals and a Hawaiian shirt. He was from Colorado, and had gotten talked into the ride by his brother. *In* Estevan (10,000) at the first restaurant I came across, I met his brother, who promptly asked if I'd seen someone in a Hawaiian shirt. I visited with him a bit and found out that his doctor had given him a choice a few years ago of either exercising or not making it another five years. He's probably in his mid-forties, and thought he should kick around a little longer.

Mom's Cafe didn't sound all that appealing, and I'd seen a billboard advertising a Subway, so I kept peddling until I found it. It was about 10:15 and it felt like I'd already missed lunch. They took US money (no surprise) and the cash register made the conversion (but not at McDonalds where a few others got "taken." The exchange rate is about 70 cents US to a dollar Canadian.) What *did* surprise me though was getting back Canadian change, including a two dollar coin. It was just one of those things I hadn't thought through. The footlong tuna sub hit the spot. I left about the time four more cyclists showed up. The natives seemed a little leery of us and our bicycling outfits.

The wind was still from the northwest when I left south out of town, directly into the active mining area. A power plant was on the west side of the highway and its smoke was blowing over the road, slightly reducing visibility. In addition to "normal" customers, the power plant also powers the massive drag lines responsible for the large piles of dirt. These drag lines are something else. Their booms must be 200-300 feet in length, with buckets easily large enough to drive a regular dump truck into. And because they are electrically driven, they are so silent! I wouldn't have minded snapping some pictures, but there was nothing of "regular" scale to include to show their size. They were still visible twenty miles down the road.

In riding through the smog from the power plant, I got to wondering if energy consumption would be reduced in the Twin Cities if it was required that the power plants be built in downtown Minneapolis and St. Paul. Does anyone want to take a stab at answering *that* question? :-) It follows my desires that river water intakes for drinking supplies be located downstream from the sewage treatment outlets.

Back to biking. I had a good tail wind all the way to Noonan and the last several miles were on a down grade. There *was* the brief stop at the American port of entry however. Just as I came to a stop, a head popped out of the screen door and the fellow asked, "Are you US?" "Yep." "Okay." Have you ever wondered how hard it'd be to smuggle something across the border? You can stop wondering.

Noonan to Crosby: 14 miles into the wind, and the temperature was into the 90's. The dew point was in the 40's or 50's though, so my training (commuting to work, actually) in the high 80's with a dew point of over 70 was more than adequate preparation. I've also discovered that my body prefers the heat. The heat, wind, and more miles took a toll on several riders though, so the sag wagon was busy.

I met another rider on the outskirts of Crosby, wondering the same thing I was: which of the signs and markers were the ones we were supposed to follow? More conflicts by "unofficial" participation. My attitude was that Crosby (1400) wasn't big enough so that we'd have trouble finding Pioneer Village, the site of tonight's camp. (But where were the cheerleaders?) There weren't many others when we arrived at the Village.

Several historic buildings make up Pioneer Village, along with many steam and old gasoline tractors. There had been a big steam show the weekend before, so all the tractors were still out for display. One had been fired up for the afternoon to give demonstrations with three different saw mills. Later in the day a gasoline tractor powered a threshing machine. When I was over by a mill, an older fellow dressed in a long sleeve shirt, coat, long pants, leather gloves, and hat was busy filing teeth on a sawblade. The bank's thermometer read 96.

But back to setting up camp. Selecting the perfect tent site gets to be a combination of art and science. My bag was fairly heavy, so I didn't want to be too far from the baggage trailer. Being far away from a porta-potty isn't good, and being too close makes for a sleepless night as the doors get banged regularly. Shade on hot days is always strived for, and distance from street lights is desired. And ending up in a snore-free zone is a bonus. I saw my two (non-snoring) neighbors from Burlington setting up in the shade of one of the old churches about twenty yards away. Coincidentally, one was from Shoreview (near 49 and County Rd J), and the other from south Minneapolis ("half a block from Minnehaha Falls"). They were happy to see me, and we compared notes of the ride. In Estevan they looked for a place along the route they could get shakes, but didn't succeed. They'd seen a sign for a Dairy Queen seven blocks out of the way, but thought "that was too far." South of town they were kicking themselves when they determined a few extra blocks compared to the day's 83 miles would have been trivial.

The next essential questions we couldn't answer: Where's the water? Where are the showers? Where are the restrooms? Where is anything? Someone summed it up nicely with "We aren't in Bowbells anymore!" We'd gotten pretty spoiled. :-)

The water was potable, and that's about the only good thing I can say about it (and fortunately the most important). I flushed a toilet two times before I realized I was flushing just water. The showers were "across town" and I opted to walk instead of bike. It was perhaps just over half a mile, but "the other side of town" made it seem like a long hike. I *did* locate the ice cream shop though. :-) When I got to the school, one fellow said he'd let the water run twenty minutes and it was still ice cold. Great. Someone else turned around immediately and left. A couple of others and I were brave/stupid, so jumped in. And stayed! The hot water from the boiler on the other side of the school had arrived! The fellow who turned around had seeked out the custodian, who promptly turned on a recirculation pump to get the cold water back to the boiler and the hot water to the showers. He had known what was going on, and we were very appreciative!

I read a bit upon returning to camp, and then hiked back to the ice cream shop, enjoying both a banana split outdoors and watching the activity on the main drag. Summer afternoons can be very relaxing. :-)

More reading and a nap, and it was time to wander the Village. The machinery onsite is quite impressive in my opinion. (Someone else in The Support list kept mentioning "junk" though. :-) One item that caught my eye was a miniature live steam locomotive (4-4-0, if I remember correctly), pulling a gondola that seats four. It wasn't in operation however, so I had to be content to oooh and aaaah over it as best I could. There were also a couple of old "steam shovels" from previous coal mining days. The larger was actually electric, and the interior is visible from the tops of steps added alongside. The electric motors are quite impressive! The old buildings didn't hold as much fascination, as I grew up with similar ones in Alexander. But overall, Pioneer Village is quite nice!

Supper was served right there in one of the buildings, with a good buffet of home-cooked food. A pianist also kept her fingers busy for almost two hours with a wide selection of songs. After eating, I had to do a little bike maintenance and take a look at a squeaky chain. (Otherwise, the bike ran fine all week long.) More reading followed, until about 7:30 when I walked downtown for a special showing of "Northern Lights." The film was made in the late '70's in Crosby about the organizing of the North Dakota farmers in the 1914-1916 period to form the Nonpartisan League political party, eventually responsible for creating the state-owned mill and elevator. There was a good CANDISC turnout (a free movie in air conditioning certainly didn't hurt). I had the option of paying a little and sitting in the balcony. The balcony turned out to be a section in back raised a foot or two higher than the rest of the floor, with a railing around it. :-) But the chairs looked more comfortable than those in the rest of the theater. I declined the offer. The general seating was far better than what I'd sat on all day.

I caught a ride after the movie back to the Village, and crashed at 10:45. My neighborhood was free of the "thunder."