We later found out that the evening before, a family from Chanhassen, MN, had been interviewed for a local news broadcast. This was their first outing as a family, and they'd come to North Dakota because the ride would inevitably be quite flat. After the Beulah to Killdeer route, they were talking about the hills in North Dakota. It would have been interesting to get an update on their opinion after today's ride, because the hills were longer, steeper, and more numerous. :-)

On that cheery note, I'll just mention that it was nice we were able to go around the hills instead of over them.

Speaking of hills, we hit them, with everyone slowing down. Dad and I were playing leapfrog with a fellow on a road bike. He looked enviously upon my granny gear as I passed him going up hills, and I looked enviously at him as he whizzed past us on the other side.

At the bottom was the first rest stop of the day, an Oasis sponsored by the Killdeer Klassics (never did quite figure this one out, but they were energetic). The Hawaiian music and grass skirts seemed a little out of place given the weather, but it was still appreciated. :-) It was fun watching the other cyclists coming in. Some had big smiles on their faces and others were running a little scared. One fellow was wishing he'd swapped the tires on his tandem before the ride, "especially since I'd already bought them!" Me? I'd wished I'd had a tailwind. :-)

The rest stop was at the site of the Lost Bridge, which is now just a piece of history as the original overhead structure bridge crossing the Little Missouri was replaced with a modern bridge not too long ago. Why the name "Lost Bridge?" Many years ago the ranchers needed a safe way to run their herds from one side of the river to the other. The closest bridge was the Long X Bridge fifty miles to the west, which meant for a long trail ride. They petitioned the government and were successful in getting the Lost Bridge built. But funding ran out for any graded road leading to and from the bridge, so it sat out in the middle of nowhere with only a dirt road on either side for many years. Eventually the funding came through and a road was built. Oil traffic on the road in the '80's finally pushed the need to replace it to a high enough level so the Lost Bridge is no more. And with current oil prices being so low in the '90's, there's not much oil traffic either.

Enough of a rest. Time to get moving. The Big Hill was next, a two mile climb out of the Little Missouri valley on a 5-7% grade and into the wind (of course!). Dad didn't have the luxury of the low gearing I did, so he had to push it a little harder and faster up the hills than I did. I'd eventually catch him after reaching the tops.

The next rest stop was at the turnoff to Mandaree (367), a town formed when Garrison Dam was built and Lake Sakakawea flooded out the good river bottom farmland and folks were forced to move. The name is derived from the Native American tribes living there: Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikaree. Jeanette from Berthold was there, and on the way out of the stop we rode with her and a friend. Dad had to get the update on the new road bike, what she felt was a nice change from the mountain bike she'd taken on earlier CANDISCs (except it wasn't quite as comfortable).

We finally turned west for the last thirty mile stretch (well, that was almost half the ride, but it wasn't directly into the wind anymore). We were getting close to a major descent when Doyle from Fargo passed us with "gotta go while the burst of energy is there!" He headed down the hill, I was second, and Dad followed. What happened after the ~mile descent is best explained in Doyle's own words, best as I can reconstruct them from the telling of the incident at the next rest stop:

"I cruised down the hill at 37 mph, hit the bottom, and then thought I'd get a leg up on the equally steep ascent. So, I shifted into the granny gear, except that the chain fell off! Well, it occurred to me that I was going 1 mph uphill and that I wasn't going to be able to do that for very long without the chain! I tried to unclip from my pedals but it was too late and I fell over, right in front of these two guys who were watching the cyclists ride by. [About this time I passed him, confirmed that he was all right, and kept going since he had "help" of sorts.] They came over to help, and thought that I'd fallen over like that just to entertain them, especially since it was so graceful! [Some discussion among the cyclists present about being able to relax versus the big no-no of trying to catch oneself by sticking out an arm.] Anyway, they helped me back on my bike, gave me a dollar, and I took off again!"

The rest of the ride was less eventful for us (and Doyle). :-) Dad was having some knee problems that slowed him down, and we were both getting tired of sitting. The sun was out and in an unusual circumstance, our gloves and shoes were drier than when we left in the morning, despite the miles. Two or three miles out of Watford City (1784) we saw Kevin (piano tuner from Minot) pull off into the country club. "I've got a tee time!" he hollered. We kept going until we arrived at the city park.

There were quite a few bags at the truck, which meant prime camping spots were still available. :-) We found a good spot that'd be in the shade during the heat of the day, somewhat distant from streetlights, etc. We must have done all right because Jeanette, who arrived about the same time, gave her stamp of approval and dropped her bags right next to us. Tents went up and all the wet stuff came out to dry.

Watford City had the weirdest shower setup we encountered. It was in a nice, new building on the neighboring county fairgrounds, a building that is used for hockey during the winter. CANDISC showers were assigned to locker rooms 1, 2, and 5 (or something similar). Off of each room was a smaller one with two showers. Our instructions were to "oh, take any room that isn't occupied," something a little tricky to do without poking a head through a door that was something the opposite gender might not appreciate! It must have worked out all right as no horror stories circulated through camp.

Dad and I walked the mile or so to downtown Watford City in search of ice cream. We ended up with ice cream bars from a convenience store. On the way back, we stopped in at a craft shop run by Ida Hitland, someone who lived in neighboring Alexander when I was growing up there. Her husband Darold was my math teacher. I hadn't seen her in several years. Business was slow so she had time to visit.

Back at camp, the usual activities took place--reading, bike maintenance (chains were really needing some attention), visiting, sleeping, eating, etc. Supper was pork on a bun, and special entertainment was Gene and Jessie Veeder, a father-daughter singing duo, along with a presentation by a ranger from the nearby Theodore Roosevelt National Park. (Gene had had the unforunate task of learning all the guitar accompaniment that Jesse (14) normally provides because she'd recently broken her arm in an incident with a horse!)

We ate with Art and his wife Donna, plus a couple from Oregon. Art had ridden all the way to Alexander and had come back to pick up his bags and get in on the activity. It was good to see Donna again, the last time probably being when she came down to Medora to spend a night with Art back on the '95 Bike the Badlands.

The dessert for supper was quite special: a birthday cake for Ken Covey from Moorhead, the oldest cyclist on the trip at the (most recent) age of 79. A gift he was given was registration for next year's ride. :-)

Dad and I called Mom and Linda late that evening to give them a report, and found out that Peter and Carol had heard that they would be able to adopt another child from Russia this fall. That was a pretty exciting way to end the day!

Footnote: Doyle got word from his wife that the MS150 ride in eastern North Dakota (150 miles over the past weekend to raise funds for the MS Society) included an 85 mile day bucking 20-30mph headwind with temperatures in the 90s!